own quarrel, and they had come around the corner and were staring in
amazement at the other two.
"I'll break you, you snob," Porshinger sputtered. "I'll take every
dollar you have, if it costs me a million to do it."
Pendleton shrugged his shoulders indifferently and continued straight
over to the other two men.
"Mr. Emerson," he said, "I want to compliment you on what you have said
to this cad Dolittle. Yours was the conduct of a gentleman." Then he
turned to Dolittle. "As for you, you miserable retailer of scurrilous
gossip, I'm going to give you an opportunity to finish your tale."
His right hand shot out and seized Dolittle by the top of the
waistcoat; at the same time his left hand grasped the other's left
wrist. In a twinkle Dolittle's arm lay extended palm upwards across
Pendleton's right arm, and Pendleton was standing close beside him.
It was all done in an instant--and before Dolittle realized what was
happening he was absolutely helpless. Pendleton had but to press down
and the arm would snap like a pipe-stem.
Dolittle's first struggle was also his last. His right arm was free,
and with it he swung heavily at Pendleton's head--only to be lifted off
his feet by a slight downward pressure on his left wrist. The pain was
so excruciating he cried out.--The blow was wasted on the air.
"It's no use, Dolittle," said Pendleton. "You can't touch me and you
can't break my hold--though I can break your arm as readily as I can
break a commandment--and what is more, I'll do it unless you finish
your tale!"
"It was finished," Dolittle answered, balanced uncomfortably on one
foot and perfectly helpless.
"Not at all!" said Pendleton easily. "You have forgotten the most
important part--please listen, Mr. Emerson--the most important part, I
say. Let me remind you what it is."
"It isn't anything, I tell you!" Dolittle exclaimed.
"Think again!" Pendleton admonished, accompanied by the faintest
pressure--which instantly brought a spasm of pain to the other's face.
"You will, I'm sure.--Now this is what you omitted to relate. You told
Mr. Emerson that you saw Mrs. Lorraine being kissed by Porshinger last
evening in the Croyden conservatory, but you forgot to add that he
kissed her by force and despite her struggles.--Repeat it, please."
Dolittle was sullenly silent.
"Do you hear?" asked Pendleton, beginning to apply the pressure.
Dolittle stood the agony for an instant--then he wilted.
"I neglected to add, Mr. Emerson," he gasped, "that Porshinger kissed
Mrs. Lorraine by force and despite her struggles."
"I thought you could be depended upon to tell the whole truth,"
Pendleton remarked, easing up a trifle on his grip so that the other
stood at ease.
"Then if you want the whole truth, why was it that the lady went back
to the ballroom _with_ Porshinger?" Dolittle sneered.
"I'm coming to that," said Pendleton, tightening his hold again.
"Repeat, please--and immediately Mrs. Lorraine was free and out of
Porshinger's grasp, she ordered him to take her back to the ballroom,
so as to avoid the comment that might be provoked by her returning
alone."
With a scowl of fury, Dolittle repeated the words.
"Thank you," said Pendleton. "And one thing more--if I hear of
your telling this story any other way than with these truthful
additions--and if you don't amend, before this day is over, the
tales you've already told, I shall cane you within an inch of your
life--understand. I don't think the woman with you saw--but if she did,
better warn her also--though I don't doubt, if she did see it, she will
tell the truth. Now, go!"--and he flung him away in contempt.
"You damn bully!" Dolittle choked.
"As you wish!" Pendleton laughed. "I've found my muscular development
of much use for such abominations as you.--Mr. Emerson, will you do me
the honor of joining me in a drink?"
"That I will, sir!" exclaimed Emerson. "With pleasure, sir, with
pleasure! Where shall it be, Mr. Pendleton?"
"Here, if it please you. This is preferable to indoors on such a fine
day." He touched a bell. "Take Mr. Emerson's order," he said to the boy.
"My dear sir, it was great--great!" Emerson exploded. "You deserve a
vote of thanks from every man who has a wife or daughter. You're a
credit, sir, a credit to your class and to the Club--by God, sir, you
are!"
"It was a difficult situation to handle," said Pendleton--"and I'm not
so sure I handled it properly; however, it was the best I could think
of on the spur of the moment. Moreover, it was the simple truth that I
forced Dolittle to tell."
"I haven't a doubt of it," Emerson declared. "And what is more,
Dolittle knows that it is the truth, if he actually didn't see it.
He's a pup, sure enough."
"You slander the pup, Mr. Emerson!" smiled Pendleton.
"I do, indeed. I beg the pup's pardon. He's a--what is he?"
"He is the same as Porshinger--an abomination."
"That expresses it exactly--an abomination," Emerson agreed. He glanced
quietly around. "He has joined Porshinger--they are scheming trouble
for you, I'm afraid."
Pendleton smiled indifferently, and lit a cigarette.
"I wish I had your nerve," said Emerson admiringly. "To flout both
Porshinger and Dolittle--make them both your vindictive enemies, and
not to seem to care a damn. That's what you fellows call _noblesse
oblige_, isn't it?"
"Most people would call it rank idiocy, I fear!" Pendleton laughed.
"Then me for the rank idiots. Here's to more of them, Mr. Pendleton,
here's to more of them!" He put down his glass. "Who's this burning up
the speed regulations? Gee! he certainly is hitting it up some."
"It looks like Mr. Lorraine's machine," Pendleton replied.
The car dashed up and made a spectacular stop--to the injury of the
tires and the machinery--and Lorraine jumped out, followed by a man in
a shabby uniform with a shield on the front of his waistcoat.
"What's this?" said Emerson--"a plain clothes man in disguise--or," as
Lorraine and the man drew near, "a constable in regalia?"
Pendleton smiled slightly but did not reply.
Lorraine, his eyes on Porshinger, made his way directly across to
him--giving Pendleton a preoccupied nod as he passed.
"There is Porshinger--the man with his back to the railing!" said
Lorraine. "Serve your warrant, Officer Burke."
XIX
THE ARREST
The two were near enough for Porshinger to hear what Lorraine said,
and his eyes suddenly narrowed like a snake's and took on a look as
venomous.
"Is this Mr. Porshinger--Charles J. Porshinger?" the constable
inquired, with an important air, that was at the same time slightly
apologetic.
"Yes!" said Porshinger. The word was fairly bitten off.
"I've a warrant here for you, sir," the constable continued.
"For me!" Porshinger exclaimed. "What do you mean, fellow--do you know
who I am?"
"It don't make no difference to me who you are, sir. I'm doin' my duty,
in the name of the law, and I'm arrestin' you because I've a warrant
here what orders it."
"Arresting me for what?" Porshinger demanded.
"For assault and battery."
"At whose instance?"
Burke passed the warrant across.
"This gentleman here is the prosecutor, I believe," he said. "Now come
with me and see the magistrate. He'll fix the amount of bail."
Porshinger took the warrant and read it.
"So!" he sneered. "What do you think to gain by this business,
Lorraine?"
Lorraine ignored him.
"The prisoner is in your hands, constable," he remarked. "I suggest you
would better take him along--the magistrate is waiting. If he doesn't
want to enter bail, take him to jail."
"Take me to jail!--me to jail!" cried Porshinger.
"That's where I'll have to take you unless you enter bail, or arrange
with the magistrate. I've got nothin' to do but to take you, Mr.
Porshinger," said Burke firmly.
"Won't you take my word that I'll appear there before six o'clock and
enter bail?" Porshinger demanded.
"I'll take nothin' but you, sir. I must obey my warrant, and you've got
to obey it too."
"Do you know who I am?" said Porshinger again.
"I know who you are, all right, but that don't make no difference to
me, as I said before. I don't know nothin' about the merits of the
case; whether you're guilty or innocent is none of my business. I'm
executin' my warrant, and I'm a goin' to do it--so come along."
"I suppose you'll at least let me telephone to my lawyer?" said
Porshinger.
"Sure, sir; if you do it at once, with me along with you."
"Oh, certainly. I wouldn't lose the pleasure of your company!" mocked
Porshinger. "And then you'll let me ride with you in my car to the
magistrate's office?"
"No, I won't," Burke smiled. "We'll go in Mr. Lorraine's car. You
might forget to tell your buzz man where to stop."
"My dear officer, do you know you're piling up a lot of trouble for
yourself in the future?"
"I don't know nothin' at present but my warrant, Mr. Porshinger--so
come along and do your telephonin', and then let's be off. It's four
o'clock now, and if the magistrate's office is closed, it's you to the
jail in default of bail--understand?"
"What!" cried Porshinger.
"That's it," replied Burke.
"Then let us be going, by all means," said Porshinger sourly. He
crossed to where Lorraine was sitting. "It's a new rôle for you, Mr.
Complaisant Husband--to defend your wife!" he sneered. "You would
better have stirred yourself after Amherst--it might have been to more
purpose. Now--you're brave enough to drag her name through the mire of
a court--and wash all your dirty linen, including hers. I don't want to
tell all I know regarding Mrs. Lorraine, but I'll tell enough to show
that there was no _assault_. I _did_ kiss her--a number of times. She's
a very kissable lady--but it wasn't by force. _Oh, no!_"
Lorraine gripped his chair arms until his knuckles were white, but he
controlled himself. Then he arose.
"It was because I knew you were such a poltroon that I prosecuted
you rather than horse-whipped you," he replied; "and I am careful
to abstain from physical violence. You would be only too ready
to prosecute me, and so muddy the water. You're too despicable,
Porshinger, even to talk to," and he turned his back and walked away.
"You might as well start another prosecution, since you seem to
be strong on them at present," Porshinger went on. "Why don't you
prosecute the new Amherst?" with a look at Pendleton.
"The new Amherst!" cried Lorraine, whirling around--"The new
Amherst!--What do you mean?"
"You poor, blind cuckold!" was the mocking retort. "You've horns
growing all over you. You never see anything until it is too late.
You're an easy mark, sure enough. Oh, it isn't I--I'm not in the
Amherst class, thank God!--but your dear friend Pendleton _is_,"
raising his voice so that Pendleton could hear.
A contemptuously amused look came over Lorraine's face, and he broke
into a derisive laugh.
"I'm obliged for the information!" he replied.
"No doubt you are. If you doubt it, you might ask what your wife
and Pendleton were doing on the Criss-Cross piazza, one night
about five weeks ago. That was what first put me wise as to Mrs.
Lorraine's--possibilities--also capabilities."
"You damn coward!" cried Lorraine, springing toward the other.--Then he
stopped. "No--you don't lure me to offer you violence," he said.
"Time's passing, Mr. Porshinger," said Burke's voice behind him. "If
the magistrate's gone, don't blame me."
"Ah! thank you for reminding me," Porshinger answered. "Come, we'll go
to the telephone," and with a sneering smile at Lorraine, and another
at Pendleton as he passed him, he went into the Club-house--Burke
following just behind.
Porshinger got Dalton, his personal counsel, on the wire. He was just
leaving for the day, he remarked when he recognized Porshinger's voice.
"I wish you would send some one around to Magistrate Swinton's office
at once," Porshinger directed. "I've been arrested--yes, that's what I
said--I've been arrested for assault and battery, and the officer is
going to lock me up if I haven't bail ready. I'm out at the Otranto
Club now--but we're coming right in, and I'll meet your man there. You
telephone the magistrate we're coming, will you?--What?--Yes, they know
who I am, but it don't influence the fellow with the warrant--he says
he has to take me--which is correct, I reckon.... Yes, some one will
suffer, you're damn right!... What is it about?--the assault?--I'll
tell you when I see you. Some people have got themselves into a hell
of a mess.... Yes.... Very well. Good-bye.--Now, my man, I'm at your
service."
Side by side they crossed the piazza and entered Lorraine's car.
"Tell my machine to follow," said Porshinger, to the servant who opened
the door.
During the drive, Porshinger did not speak, and Burke was discreetly
quiet. When they drew up at the magistrate's office, Burke hopped out
and offered his hand to the other, who ignored it. Lorraine's car
immediately drove off, and Porshinger's took its place.
"Ah! Dalton, you came yourself, did you? I'm glad to see you," said
Porshinger. "There wasn't any need, I suppose, one of your young men
would have been able to handle this matter."
"I thought it best to come myself," Dalton replied. "No trouble, I
assure you--just simply a case of bail. Everything is arranged. All
you have to do is to sign your name. Then we'll waive a hearing, and
let the matter come up in court, if you want it to come up," with a
sharp glance at his client's face. "Otherwise, we'll have the district
attorney's office pigeon-hole it."
"I'm not sure what I want," said Porshinger.
"Well we'll waive the hearing anyway, and you can take your time to
consider."
"I'm not sure I want it waived," Porshinger answered. "I'm inclined to
fight."
"Don't do it before the magistrate," the lawyer advised. "He is sure
to hold you, and it will only make the matter more prominent. You're
playing into Lorraine's hands by doing it. For some reason, he seems to
want the facts aired. So it's your policy to suppress them--no matter
if you're as innocent as to-morrow. A _woman_ is involved--and you must
submit to a few adverse inferences for the general good of your cause.
Society will forgive much in such a case, _if you're quiet_--it will
never forgive you if you make a fight."
"That is your advice?"
"On general principles, yes," Dalton replied.
"There is force in your argument," Porshinger admitted. "However, I
don't know--let the magistrate fix the hearing--we can waive it any
time before, I suppose?"
"You will have to come around here and renew your bail," said Dalton.
"Why is that?"
"If you waive the hearing you give bail for court; if you don't waive
the hearing your bail will be to appear before the magistrate at a time
fixed."
"Hell!" exclaimed Porshinger, "I don't want to come here again, if I
concluded _not_ to go to a hearing.--Well, waive the hearing. We can
give the Lorraines all they want in court--and something more."
They entered the rear office where the magistrate was awaiting them.
Porshinger was introduced, he waived the hearing; the bail was quickly
arranged--one thousand dollars for appearance at the next term of
court; Dalton and he signed it; and they went out.
"A lawyer isn't supposed to go bail, but I fixed it up with the
squire," Dalton remarked. "It's a mere form in your case--and I thought
it well not to mention the matter to anyone. Moreover, I hadn't time to
get another bondsman. I knew you didn't care to be kept waiting."
Porshinger nodded.
"Have the Lorraines become reconciled?" Dalton inquired.
"Lorraine has become reconciled, the ninny--but Mrs. Lorraine hasn't, I
hear. Problem, isn't it?"
"Social problem!" laughed the lawyer.--"The unforgiving offender."
Porshinger smiled. "It may be that way--I can't quite comprehend it,
however. Why should Lorraine prosecute me if his wife's not reconciled
to him?--and she plainly isn't, or wasn't last evening."
"Which nevertheless is not material to the issue," Dalton replied. "It
is: did you commit an assault and battery on Mrs. Lorraine last night?"
"I kissed her in the Croyden conservatory," said Porshinger bluntly.
"Hum--did she know it--I mean, was the kissing with her consent?"
"Sure it was," he lied.
"But she told?"
"No--we were overseen by Dolittle--and he told."
"Most unfortunate!" smiled Dalton. "It's perfectly plain now. To defend
herself, Mrs. Lorraine tells Lorraine that you kissed her by force--and
Lorraine rushes off and prosecutes you. It's a pretty mess. Everybody
knows it, and everybody will be talking, and everyone concerned will be
more or less smudged. I'm sorry for you, Porshinger."
"Why sorry?" Porshinger demanded. "Since when has it become a crime to
kiss a pretty woman?"
"It hasn't. Your crime wasn't in kissing her but in kissing her so
bunglingly as to be overseen. Society never quite forgives one,
particularly a new-comer, that sort of clumsiness. It is always
remembered against him."
"Not if he can buy forgetfulness," said Porshinger easily.
Dalton's glance flashed an instant over the other's face.
"Perhaps--it's sometimes done, though not often. You may be an
exception, Porshinger. I trust so."
"You can do anything if you're willing to pay for it--and keep out of
jail," was the complacent answer. "I'll supply the money; it will be up
to you to keep me out of jail--understand?"
XX
THE TURN OF THINGS
For a while after Porshinger and the constable had departed, Lorraine
sat thinking. Those last words of Porshinger's, which he had seemed to
laugh to scorn, none the less bred suspicion.
"_You might ask what she and Pendleton were doing on the Criss-Cross
piazza, one night about five weeks ago._"
What did it mean? There must be some basis for the insinuation--some
fact that was suspicious on its face. He did not want to mistrust
Pendleton; he would _not_ mistrust him; he would frankly tell him what
Porshinger had said and accept his explanation or denial. Pendleton
was fond of Stephanie--had been fond of her before the marriage--had
stood by her nobly since her return. It was not credible. It was a
scheme of that miserable brute to embroil him with Stephanie's best
friend.--Yet he would like to have Pendleton's denial. He would feel
better--yes, decidedly better. There would be a satisfaction in having
the denial--in hearing it.
He got up and crossed over to where Pendleton and Emerson were sitting.
The latter remained a few moments, then excused himself, on the plea of
having to dress for golf, and went off to the locker-rooms.
Both Lorraine and Pendleton were silent--the former staring at the
floor, the latter gazing through his cigarette smoke out on the links,
which were beginning to fill with players.
"Well--it's done!" said Lorraine presently.
"Not exactly," Pendleton replied. "I should say it's only begun."
"The beginning is done, at any rate," Lorraine returned.
"It's easy to start something, but it's quite another thing to finish
it."
"No doubt about that--the difficulty with me hitherto has been that I
never started. Now----"
"Now it is a question whether it wouldn't be better if you _hadn't_
started."
"Do you think so?" demanded Lorraine.
"Candidly, I don't know what to think," said Pendleton. "It's such
a miserable mess all through. We want to do the best for Stephanie,
but I admit _I'm_ not competent to judge what the best is under the
circumstances. However, the attack has been made--it only remains now
to fight it out on your plan. Have you any plan, Lorraine?"
"Plan!" answered Lorraine vaguely. "No--I've no plan--other than to
punish Porshinger for his dirty conduct toward Stephanie, and to meet
Dolittle's nasty tale with the truth."
"Very good!" nodded Pendleton, "but that is the conclusion, not the
plan. What if Porshinger fights--and is supported by Dolittle? What if
he says that Stephanie was willing and that he did not use force?"
"I'll take Stephanie's word in preference to a thousand Porshingers
and Dolittles!" Lorraine declared.
"And so will I--but will a jury? You have not consulted counsel, I
suppose?"
"No--I've not consulted anyone. I acted solely on my own responsibility
because I was satisfied it was right."
"And what is more important to Stephanie--will the public accept her
word and believe it?" Pendleton reflected.
"Certainly it will. I haven't a bit of doubt of it."
Pendleton shrugged his shoulders.
"I wish I had your assurance," he replied. "There is only one thing
about it that isn't doubtful, to my mind."
"What is that?" Lorraine demanded impatiently.
"That Stephanie will be damned utterly unless her story is accepted."
"She is damned if Dolittle's story is accepted. This is the only means
she has of clearing herself--to fight openly. Unless"--he paused and
looked hard at Pendleton--"unless she will consent to a reconciliation
and resume her place as my wife."
"I wish someone could persuade her of that," Pendleton answered
instantly. "It is her best and wisest course. It would relieve the
entire situation."
"You will tell her so?" Lorraine demanded eagerly.
"I _have_ told her so--many times within the last few weeks. I told her
so to-day."
"And she----?"
Pendleton shook his head.
"It doesn't seem to appeal to her, Lorraine."
"I will do the next best thing--I'll stand by her," he exclaimed. "If
she won't have me for husband, she can't object to the moral and active
support of the man who has the first right to render it. Indeed, if I
am with her, if I instituted the fight, what has Society to say?"
"That is the proper attitude, Lorraine," Pendleton replied. "It will go
far to sustain Stephanie's story."
"I'll do everything in my power to make amends for the past," Lorraine
went on. "Maybe it will soften her a little toward me."
Pendleton said nothing.
"There is one thing I wanted to ask you, Pendleton," he went on, after
a moment's pause. "I trust that you won't misunderstand--that you'll
take it in the right way."
"Certainly, I'll take it in the right way," Pendleton answered heartily.
He knew what was coming and was ready to meet it. Porshinger had not
raised his voice in vain; though what he had intended for a threat was
a warning also.
"I want you to explain," said Lorraine, "what Porshinger meant when
he said, just before he went off with the constable: 'I'm not in
Amherst's class, but your dear friend Pendleton is--if you doubt it,
you might ask him what your wife and he were doing on the Criss-Cross
piazza, one night about five weeks ago.'--Don't imagine that I believe
the scoundrel's insinuation for an instant--that you and Stephanie
were guilty of even the most trifling indiscretion. I trust you,
Pendleton--you're not one to be swept away by passion or sentiment--and
I think that Stephanie has had enough to steady her permanently. Yet
what did he mean? Was it just thrown out for viciousness, or was there
something happened at Criss-Cross which his vile brain distorted into
vileness? Can you guess--can you imagine what basis in fact he could
have?"
"My dear Lorraine, no basis in fact I can assure you," Pendleton
answered very quietly. "I've been at Criss-Cross several times within
the last five weeks when Stephanie was there. I was alone with her on
the piazza repeatedly, by day and in the evening, but there wasn't a
time when Gladys or any of the guests could not have overheard our
conversation or seen our acts."
"God save me for a quibbler!" he thought. "A lie by inference and
intended to deceive--though true enough in word--is none the less a
lie. Yet for Stephanie's sake, I am remitted to it. The little woman
was right--and I was a fool!"
Lorraine put out his hand; and Pendleton took it, feeling like a dog
but smiling ingenuously.
"Woodside's place adjoins Criss-Cross and Porshinger visits him, you
know; he was invited to the Chamberlains, one Sunday when we were
there," Pendleton observed. "He might have seen me with Stephanie at
that time; he might even have used a field-glass from Woodside's or say
he did; and he might have seen us sitting together and concocted a
story to fit his purposes."
"More than likely concocted it while he was saying it!" Lorraine
exclaimed. "He wanted to embroil me with you--split the opposition into
fighting among themselves, when they should stand together. Well--it
hasn't succeeded. Nevertheless I thought it best that we should have it
out at once, so as to have no misunderstanding hereafter."