THE COMPACT IS SMASHED
Evan spent the afternoon walking about with Simeon Deaves. The old man
was an indefatigable pedestrian. He had no object in his wanderings,
but loved to poke into the oddest and most out-of-the-way corners of
the town. They were not followed to-day so far as Evan could tell. At
first Simeon Deaves was uneasy and suspicious of his body-guard, but
finding that Evan took everything calmly for granted, he unbent and
became loquacious. All his talk was on the same subject: how to get
along in the world, i.e. how to make money.
Evan having taken him home at last, sank into the seat of a bus with
relief. "Anyhow it will be good for my health," he thought.
Before going home he called at the studio of a friend, a member of the
Barbizon Club, and without taking him entirely into his confidence,
enlisted his aid in investigating the actions and habits of the men on
Hassell's list. It may be said here, that nothing came of this.
Evan and Charley met for the evening meal. The irrepressible Charley
was still singing about the red-haired girl. In spite of his boasts it
appeared that his advances had consistently been turned down. Evan
took a little comfort from this. Sullenness was unknown to the gay
Charley and he was not a whit less optimistic because of his set-backs.
"You don't want a girl to be too come-on-ish," he said. "A
highty-tighty manner adds zest to the game. They don't expect to be
taken seriously when they turn you down, bless your heart, no. Why, if
I let that girl drop now, she'd despise me for my faintheartedness.
Sure, and be as disappointed as anything!"
Evan was not in much of a humour to laugh at him. Indeed he foresaw
that an impossible situation would presently develop between Charley
and him unless he said something. With an elaborately casual manner he
began at last:
"I say, Charl, you and I have always played fair with each other."
"Well I should rather fahncy, as Lord Percy said. What's on your
chest, boy? Unload! Unload!"
"It's only fair to tell you that I have become acquainted with the
young lady in question."
Charley stared. "The Deuce you say! You, the scorner of the sex!
Since when?"
"Two nights ago."
"And you never said a word about it. You let me shoot off my mouth all
this time and never----"
"What was there to say?"
"You packed me off to the life class last night so you could--"
"That was for your own good!"
"Come off! Come off! Have I such a trusting eye? On the level why
didn't you tell me before?"
What was Evan to say. He began an explanation that was no explanation.
Charley's sharp eyes bored him through and through.
"By the Lord!" cried the latter at last, "Old Stony-heart has melted!
St. Anthony has fallen for the caloric tresses. Touched where he
lives, by Gad! Brought low and humbled in the dust!"
Evan grinned painfully. "Don't be a fool!" he muttered.
"How does it feel?" asked Charley with mock solicitude, "a dull ache in
the epigastrium or a fluttering sensation in the pericardium; some lay
stress on the characteristic feeling of heaviness behind the occiput."
"You wheeze like a vaudeville performer on small time," growled Evan.
Charley roared. He did not often get his partner on the grill like
this. It was generally the other way about. But in the midst of his
outrageous joshing it suddenly struck the warm-hearted Charley that
under his game grin Evan was suffering very pretty torments. Charley
jumped up and for the briefest of seconds laid his hand on his
partner's shoulder.
"Look here," he said abruptly, "you know what I think of you really, or
if you don't you'll have to take it for granted, for I'll never tell
you. I haven't the words, but only a line of cheap cackle as you say.
Understand, from this time on it's a clear field for you, see? Me for
the Movies, to-night."
Evan was touched, but of course he couldn't show Charley his feelings,
for that matter Charley did not require it. "You needn't go out on my
account," he grumbled. "I don't expect to see her to-night. She has a
date."
Such was the bitterness with which he said it, that Charley could not
help but laugh again. "Cheer up!" he cried. "It has been known to
happen. Fellows like you take it too hard. Hard wood is slow to
catch, eh, but Lor' what a heat she throws out!"
"Don't jolly me," muttered Evan. "I can't take it!"
Charley's face softened again for an instant. "C'mon with me," he
said. "Mildred Macy in the Spawn of Infamy's at the Nonpareil. Milly
is some vamp I hear."
"Couldn't sit through a picture," said Evan. "You go."
Nevertheless when the dishes were washed up the prospect of spending
the evening alone in the little room was too ghastly. As Charley got
up Evan said sheepishly:
"Believe I will go."
"Bully!" said Charley. "Get your hat."
As they passed her door Evan's ears were long. No sounds came from
within, no crack of light showed beneath. He had been hoping against
hope that she might be there. Where was she? The picture of a little
restaurant rushed before his mind's eye, Corinna and a man on opposite
sides of the table, their smiling faces drawing close over the cloth.
He suffered as much as if he had actually beheld them. That's the
worst of having a vivid imagination.
"Spawn of Infamy" proved to be what Charley termed "High-life for
low-lifers" and they were home shortly after nine. As they mounted the
first flight Evan perceived a crack of light under Corinna's door and
his heart rose. She was home early, she had not had a good time then.
But as they rounded the landing he heard her voice inside. She had a
visitor--alone in there with her! A horrible spasm of pain contracted
his breast. He had much ado to restrain himself from beating with his
fists on the door. He followed Charley up-stairs grinding his teeth.
He had never suspected that such raging devils lay dormant in his blood.
When they got up-stairs it was quite impossible for Evan to remain
there. For a moment or two he walked up and down like something caged;
he could not pretend to hide the feelings that were tearing him.
Charley glancing at him wonderingly out of the tail of his eye, bustled
about talking foolishly.
Finally Evan said thickly: "It's stuffy up here. I'm going down to
walk around the Park awhile."
Charley's eyes followed him compassionately. Charley's time to
experience this sort of thing had not arrived.
When he started Evan honestly intended to go down in the Park and calm
himself with the exercise of walking. But unfortunately he had to pass
her door. In spite of himself he stopped there, and despising himself,
listened. He heard her say: "I won't sing to-night. I'm not in the
humour." Then he heard a man's voice low and urgent, and he saw red.
He knocked.
She came promptly and opened the door, opened it wide. She did not
quail when she saw his lowering face.
"Good evening," she said with the upward inflection meaning: "What do
you want?"
Her tone flatly denied their intimacy of the night before. This aspect
of a woman's nature was new to Evan; he was astonished and hotly
indignant.
"May I come in?" he asked stiffly.
"Certainly," she said promptly and indifferently, and threw the door
open wide.
Evan stepped in, and his eyes flew to find his rival. The latter was
sitting between the piano and the window. He was younger than Evan,
not much more than a lad in fact, but a resolute, comely lad; one of
whom Evan could be jealous.
"Mr. Weir, Mr. Anway," said Corinna impassively.
They nodded, eyeing each other like strange dogs. A factitious calm
descended on Evan. He could even smile, but there were ugly lines
around his mouth. His voice was harsh.
"Aren't we going to have some music?" he said.
By this he meant to convey to the other man that he was accustomed to
be entertained in that room. The point was not lost. The younger man
whitened about the lips. The girl gave no sign at all. Even in his
anger Evan commended her pluck. She kept her chin up; her eyes were
scornful.
"I'll play," she said going towards the piano.
"I like your singing better," said Evan.
"I am not in the humour," she said in a tone that finally disposed of
the question.
She played--what she played Evan never knew. It is doubtful if any of
them heard a note. Evan sat affecting to listen with a smile like a
grimace. The other man kept his eyes down. Whatever Corinna may have
been feeling, it did not interfere with the technical excellence of her
performance; her fingers danced like fairies over the keys, but
to-night there was no magic in the sounds they evoked.
Corinna's part was the easiest because she had something to do and
somewhere to look. She went from one piece to another without a word
being spoken. Evan went on smiling until his face was cracking; the
other never looked up.
Finally the sounds began to get on Evan's nerves. "Don't tire
yourself!" he said with bitter politeness.
She stopped, and turning around on the bench waited for him to say
something more. Her attitude said plainer than words: "You provoked
this situation; very well, it's up to you to save it." This cool
defiance in a mere girl, a little one at that, angered Evan past all
bearing. He smiled the more, and addressed the other man:
"Fond of music, Mr. Anway?"
"Very," said the other without looking at him.
"What is your favourite piece in Miss Playfair's repertoire--I mean
among the songs."
"I have no favourite."
"But don't you think she sings 'Just a Wearyin' for You' and 'Love
Unexpressed' with wonderful expression?"
Anway did not answer. Corinna yawned delicately. "You'll have to
excuse me," she said. "I have to go to Ridgewood early to-morrow to
give lessons."
Anway, better-mannered than Evan--or better-trained, immediately rose.
Evan sat tight, smiling mockingly at Corinna. "No, you don't!" the
smile said. His conduct was inexcusable of course, but he was beyond
caring for that. She had denied him and defied him to his face; let
her take the consequences. Anway seeing that Evan wasn't going, sat
down again flushing.
"Don't wait for me," said Evan. "I only have to go up-stairs."
Anway bit his lip. He was not deficient in pluck, but he lacked Evan's
self-possession. The two or three years' difference in age put him at
a cruel disadvantage. Finally he looked at the girl.
"May I stay a little longer, Corinna?" he asked.
The Christian name stabbed Evan. He sneered. "Nice, well-mannered
little boy!" his expression said.
"You must both go," said Corinna calmly.
Evan smiled at her again, but she refused to meet his glance. However
he stood up now, for he wished to start the other man on his way.
Anway picked up his hat and gloves. Then all three stood there
avoiding each other's glances. Neither man would be the first to say
good-night, nor would Corinna address one before the other. It was a
sufficiently absurd situation, but it had all the potentialities of a
violent one. Finally Corinna cut the knot by saying:
"Good-night, both of you." She opened the door.
The two young men glared at each other. Anway was the weaker spirit
and he had to go first. But he lingered just outside the door to make
sure that Evan was coming too.
Evan whispered to Corinna: "I'm coming back."
"Indeed you're not!" she retorted, glancing significantly at the key in
the door.
"Then I won't go," said Evan coolly turning back into the room.
Corinna bit her lip. Clearly, Evan offered her a new set of problems
in the management of men. Anway sought to enter again, but she stopped
him.
"Please go, Leonard," she murmured. "This is too absurd!"
The whispered colloquy was perfectly audible to Evan.
Anway said: "But I don't like to leave you alone with----"
She laughed slightly. "Nonsense! I can take care of myself!"
"But, Corinna, if I go he'll think I----"
"I will put him straight as to that."
"Corinna," this low and thick, "what is this man to you?"
"No more than you--or any of my friends."
"But, Corinna----"
"Go!"
He went step by step with heavy feet on the stairs.
Corinna came into the room leaving the door open. Her eyes were bright
with anger. "Well, you won your pitiful little victory over the boy,"
she said scornfully. "I hope you're pleased with yourself!"
The blood began to pound in Evan's temples. "Don't speak to me like
that!" he said thickly. "I am no tame thing!"
"You may go," she said.
He smiled. "Not so easily!"
"Then I will."
"Where will you go?"
"To Miss Sisson's room."
Evan laughed. He had not much fear of that.
"What's the matter with you?" she demanded.
For a brief instant he seemed to catch a glimpse inside himself and was
aghast at what was stewing there. "God knows!" he said helplessly.
Corinna took heart at this evidence of weakness. "Then go away until
you come to your senses," she said imperiously.
Evan flushed darkly. "I will not go!" he said.
They stared at each other.
Finally words began to come to Evan, at first haltingly: "Last
night--you sang to me. Love songs--that drew the very heart out of
me----"
She made an indignant movement.
"Oh, I know what you're going to say, they were just songs that you
might sing to anybody. But you sung them to me--in a warm and tender
voice, knowing that my ears were hungry for the sounds. You sang down
all my defenses. You sang to me until I was soft and helpless. You
sang me to your feet. I offered you myself--all there is of me body
and soul. And you took me!--Oh, I know you made conditions, what did I
care? I scarcely heard them. What do words matter at such moments? I
offered you my love, and you took it. I felt from that moment that I
was yours, and you mine.
"To-night when I came I found another man here--another man you were
accustomed to sing to--how many of them are there?--the same songs, Oh
God! Another man who looked at you with sick eyes of longing! And you
denied me when I came! You looked at me with the eyes of a stranger
because he was here! And now you ask me what is the matter with me.
Am I a toy spaniel to be petted and turned out of the room by turn?"
She found her voice at last. "You have no right to speak to me like
that! You promised me----"
"Oh, damn such promises! That's all nonsense! You're a woman and I'm
a man! Have all the little brothers you want, but count me out. I
will be your lover or nothing!"
"How dare you!" she gasped. "You brute!"
"Yes, I'm a brute!" he said. "I'm glad of it! Brutal things need to
be said to clear the air. There's been too much sickly nonsense. You
despise men, don't you? You like to see them crawling? You need a
lesson! You shall be mine, and mine only and you shall respect me!"
Corinna was well-nigh speechless now. "I hate you! I hate you!" she
gasped. "Leave my room!"
"Not till we come to an understanding."
She darted for the door. It was a mistake in tactics. A joyous flame
leaped up in his eyes and he seized her. She fought him like a little
tigress, but he only laughed deep inside of him, and drawing her close
kissed her pulsing throat.
She ceased to struggle. The hands that had been beating his face stole
around his neck. Her lips sought his of their own accord.
"I love you!" she murmured. "I can't help myself! I love you! What
will happen to me now!"
At breakfast next morning Evan was in the highest spirits. His
piercing inaccurate whistling of "Mighty Lak' a Rose" got Charley out
of bed a good half hour before his time. Charley looked at him rather
sourly, not too well pleased to have his role of little sunshine
usurped by another. A scratch decorated one of Evan's cheeks which
Charley did not overlook.
"What have you been in?" he asked sarcastically.
"Cut myself shaving," replied Evan with a casual air.
"You must have shaved early. It's dry."
Evan's only reply was another cadenza.
"Here's a change of tune!" commented Charley. "Last night it was the
Dead March from Saul."
"Come on, slug! Breakfast's on the table."
It was impossible for Charley to be ill-tempered for long. Presently
he began to grin. "Pleasant walking in the Square last night?" he
asked dryly.
Evan couldn't quite confide in him, but he was not unwilling that
Charley should guess how matters stood. "Out-o'-sight!" he cried.
"Want to borrow some money?" said Charley carelessly. "I'm flush."
Evan stared. "How did you guess that?"
"They generally do," said Charley airily.
"I'll be paid by the old man at the end of the week."
"That's all right. Here's five, son. I can recommend the one on the
Avenue just below Fourteenth."
"The one what?" asked Evan innocently.
"Florist."
Evan blushed.
On his way down-stairs Evan tapped on her door with beating heart.
There was no answer. With a sigh he went on. Carmen, who missed
little, had heard him stop and coming out, volunteered the information
that Miss Playfair had gone out real early. Evan thanked her, and
hurried on, dreading to face the sharp-eyed spinster.
All morning he walked the streets with Simeon Deaves in a dream. In
the middle of the day he made an excuse to avoid luncheon at the
Deaves' and rushed home, stopping en route to buy a small-sized
cartwheel of violets.
He let himself in softly and managed to get on the stairs without
attracting Carmen's attention. The violets were hidden under his coat.
Corinna's door stood open now, and his heart began to beat. "Will she
recognise my step?" he thought. "I would know hers on my flight."
He stood in her doorway and the heart slowly froze in his breast. The
room was empty, dreadfully empty. She was gone. The empty mantel, the
empty floor, the empty place where the piano had stood seemed to mock
at him. He turned a little sick, and put his hand out behind him on
the door frame for support. "There is some mistake," he told himself,
but he knew in his heart there was no mistake. This was the natural
outcome of the tormenting mystery in which Corinna enveloped herself.
He looked stupidly down at the violets in his hand. In a spasm of pain
he threw them on the floor and ground them under his heel. Their
fragrance filled the room. Then the violence passed and he felt dead
inside. He looked inside the little dressing-room--not that he
expected to find her there, but it was a place to look. It was empty
of course.
When he issued out again the sight of the bruised flowers caused him a
fresh wrench. Lying there they were like a public advertisement of his
betrayed heart. He picked them up and thrust them as far as he could
reach up the chimney flue.
In the midst of Evan's pain a voice seemed to whisper to him: "You
might have expected it. It was too much happiness!"
Later he thought: "There will be a letter for me up-stairs," and ran up
the two flights, knowing there would be no letter. Yet he searched
even in the unlikeliest places. There was no letter. To his relief
Charley was out.
He thought of Carmen. Dreadful as it was to face her prying eyes, it
was still more dreadful not to know what had happened. He went
down-stairs again. On the final flight the unhappy wretch started to
whistle, hoping by that to attract her to her door that he might not
have to ask for information.
The ruse was successful. She came out into the hall. Evan found
himself curiously studying the odd bumps that the curling pins made
under her frowsy boudoir cap. She required no lead to make her talk.
"Miss Playfair has gone!" she cried.
"So I see," said Evan. He listened carefully to the sound of his own
voice. It did not shake. He kept his back to the light from the front
door.
"What do you know about that! I never did like her. One of them
flibbertigibbets! You never can trust a red-haired woman! And such a
display of her hair, as if it was beautiful indeed! That showed her
character. But I should worry! Paid me a month's rent in advance when
she came. Wanted part of it back this morning. But I said, 'Oh, no,
my dear! That's the landlady's propensity--I mean perquisite.'"
Evan wondered if the sick disgust he felt of the woman showed in his
face. As a matter of fact his face was simply wooden. Carmen rattled
on unsuspiciously:
"That's enough for me. I don't care if I never rent the rooms. No
more women in my house. They lower the tone. A man of course can do
anything and it doesn't matter, but a woman in the house is a cause for
suspicion even if she doesn't do anything."
Evan was not interested in Miss Sisson's ideas. He wanted information.
"What reason did she give for leaving?" he asked carelessly.
"Said she had an important musical offer from out of town. But do you
believe that? I don't."
"She didn't lose much time in moving her things," suggested Evan.
"No indeed. Looks very suspicious if you ask me."
Evan was obliged to put his question in more direct form. "Who moved
her things?"
"Just an ordinary truck without any name on it. I looked particularly.
The piano people came for the piano. Rented. It was a Stannering."
Fearing that the next question could not but betray him, Evan was
nevertheless obliged to ask it: "Did she leave any forwarding address?"
Miss Sisson's gimlet eyes bored him through before she replied. "Yes,
I asked her. She said she didn't expect anything to come here, but if
it did I could forward it care of her friend Miss Evans, 133 West Ninth
street. Did she owe you any money?"
This was too much. "No, indeed," said Evan, and hurried away.
He walked blindly across the Square, conscious only that Carmen was
probably watching him through the narrow pane beside the door. How
well he knew her expression of mean inquisitiveness. He was marching
into blackness. He was incapable of thinking consecutively. What was
left of his faculties was concentrated to the sole end of concealing
his hurt.
But he still had two clues. He automatically turned down Ninth street
looking for 133 only to find what everybody knows that West Ninth
street ends at Sixth avenue and there are consequently no numbers
beyond 100. He went to the Stannering piano warerooms to ask if they
had the new address of Miss Corinna Playfair on their books. He was
told that Miss Playfair had returned her piano that morning saying that
she was leaving town and would require it no longer.