1
|From the university clock, up in the north end of Sunbury village,
twelve slow strokes boomed out.
Henry Calverly, settled comfortably in the hammock on Mrs Arthur V.
Henderson's front porch, behind the honeysuckle vine, listened dreamily.
Beside him in the hammock was Corinne Doag.
At the corner, two houses away, a sizzing, flaring, sputtering arc lamp
gave out the only sound and the only light in the neighbourhood. Lower
Chestnut Avenue was sound asleep.
The storage battery in the modern automobile will automatically cut
itself off from the generator when fully charged. Henry's emotional,
nature was of similar construction. Corinne had overcharged him, and
automatically he cut her off.
The outer result of this action and reaction was a rather bewildering
quarrel.
Early in the present evening, shortly after Humphrey Weaver and Mrs
Henderson left the porch for a little ramble to the lake--'Back in a few
minutes,' Mildred had remarked--the quarrel had been made up. Neither
could have told how. Each felt relieved to be comfortably back on a
hammock footing.
Henry, indeed, was more than relieved. He was quietly exultant. The
thrill of conquest was upon him. It was as if she were an enemy whom he
had defeated and captured. He was experiencing none of the sensations
that he supposed were symptoms of what is called love. Yet what he
was experiencing was pleasurable. He could even lie back here and think
coolly about it, revel in it.
Corinne's head stirred.
'That was midnight,' she murmured.
'What of it?'
'I suppose I ought to be thinking about going in.'
'I don't see that your chaperon's in such a rush.'
'I know. They've been hours. They might have walked around to the
rooms.'
Henry was a little shocked at the thought.
'Oh, no,' he remarked. 'They'd hardly have gone _there_--without us.'
'Mildred would if she wanted to. It has seemed to me lately...'
'What?'
'I don't know--but once or twice--as if she might be getting a little
too fond of Humphrey.'
'Oh'--there was concern in Henry's voice--'do you think so?'
'I wonder if you know just how fascinating that man is, Henry.'
'He's never been with girls--not around here. You've no idea--he just
lives with his books, and in his shop.'
'Perhaps that's why,' said she. 'Partly. Mildred ought to be careful.'
Henry, soberly considering this new light on his friend, looked off
toward the corner.
He sat up abruptly.
'Henry' For goodness' sake! Ouch--my hair!'
'Ssh! Look--that man coming across! Wait. There now--with a suit-case!'
'Oh, Henry, you scared me! Don't be silly. He's way out in... Henry! How
awful! It _is!_'
'What'll we do?'
'I don't know. Get up. Sit over there,' She was working at her hair; she
smoothed her 'waist,' and pulled out the puff sleeves.
The man came rapidly nearer. His straw hat was tipped back. They could
see the light of a cigar. A mental note of Henry's was that Arthur V.
Henderson had been a football player at the state university. And a
boxer. Even out of condition he was a strong man.
'Quick--think of something to tell him! It'll have to be a lie.
Henry--_think!_'
Then, as he stood motionless, helpless, she got up, thrust his hat and
bamboo stick into his hands, and led him on tiptoe around the corner of
the house.
'We've got to do something. Henry, for goodness' sake--'
'We've got to find her, I think.'
'I know it. But----'
'If she came in with Hump, and he--you know, this time' of night--why,
something awful might happen. There might be murder. Mr Henderson----'
'Don't talk such stuff! Keep your head. Well--he's coming! Here!'
She gripped his hand, dragged him down the side steps, and ran lightly
with him out past the woodshed to the alley. They walked to the side
street and, keeping in the shadows, out to the Chestnut Avenue corner.
From this spot they commanded the house.
Mr Henderson had switched on lights in front hall, dining-room, and
kitchen. The parlour was still dark. Next he had gone upstairs, for
there were lights in the upper windows. After a brief time he appeared
in the front doorway. He lighted a fresh cigar, then opened the screen
door and came out on the porch. He stood there, looking up and down the
street. Then he seated himself on the top step, elbows on knees, like a
man thinking.
'Henry!'
'Yes.'
'Listen! You go over to the rooms and see.'
'But they might be down at the lake.'
'Not all this time. Mildred doesn't like sitting on beaches. If you find
them, bring her back. We'll go in together, she and I. We'll patch up a
story. It's all right. Just keep your head.'
'What'll you do?'
'Wait here.'
'I don't like to leave you.'
'You'll see me again.'
'I know, but----'
'Well... Now hurry!'
2
The old barn was dark.
'Hm!' mused Henry, pulling at his soft little moustache. 'Hm! Certainly
aren't here. Take a look though.'
With his latch-key he softly opened the alley door; felt his way through
machinery and belting to the stairs. At the top he stood a moment,
peering about for the electric switch. He hadn't lived here long enough
to know the place as he had come to know his old room in Wilcox's
boarding-house.