The next morning when Jardine issued early forth from the little blue
reception room, where he had tossed sleepless almost throughout the
night on the folding cabinet bed, he paused on the verandah, staring
in stultified amaze. Not a tent was visible on the square, not a
huckster's stand. The great circumference of the Ferris Wheel no longer
vexed with its incongruous periphery the august mountain scene which
it had framed. Not a spieler's horn could be heard, nor an echo of the
brazen melodies of the band; the wooden horses of the merry-go-round
seemed to have galloped away in the night. There was not even the mast
for the high dive, nor the reservoir that broke the fall of the leaping
acrobat. The street fair had vanished, like an exhalation of the night
in the beams of the morning sun. Jardine might have doubted his senses,
save for the crowds of wondering rustics that wandered dolefully up and
down the pavements, disconsolate, disappointed. Now and again groups
paused before written notices pasted on the door of the courthouse
and of the post office, and at the distance seemed to discuss it,
and then moved aimlessly away, making space for other groups on like
errands. Another placard was at the main entrance of the hotel, also
under frequent consultation by drearily strolling groups of the more
prosperous class of country folks. It was of course impossible to
decipher it at the distance, but as Jardine moved toward it he was
accosted by the duck-like clerk, seated in the office window opening on
the verandah.
"Complete surprise, ain't it?" said the clerk jovially. "Jig's up."
"The fair is gone?" asked Jardine futilely.
"Do you see any fair?" quacked the duck. "I don't."
"Isn't it very sudden?" Jardine demanded.
"Liked to broke my neck," declared the clerk hyperbolically. "Left on
the morning train."
"What's the reason for it?" Jardine asked, looking again toward the
posted notice.
He was experiencing the most intense relief. All the troubles that
had infested his consciousness were annihilated. The vanishing of
the street fair was like awakening from a nightmare--a deep sense of
gratitude contended with a feeling that his troubles had been unreal,
overstrained, gratuitous.
"Oh, they give the plain facts--straight goods--honest fellow, that
Lloyd. Couldn't pay expenses any longer--only made their transportation
in three days. Disbanded show, and lit right out."
He had jumped down on the inner side of the office, then turned anew to
the window, as if with a sudden thought.
"That fellow, Captain Ollory--keen to get away--never saw a man so
rattled! Here in the office last night they had it out--_one_ of them
had to stay. _He_ wouldn't--he'd have walked to New York first--said
so--perfectly wild!"
Jardine looked for a moment as if he had beheld a Gorgon's face--his
own seemed petrified.
"Then that manager--that rascal Lloyd is here yet?" he asked.
The clerk seemed disconcerted.
"Hard phrase, Mr. Jardine." Then he hesitated as if he thought he
had said too much. It was no part of his duty as clerk of the Avoca
House of Colbury to censor the guests' criticism of each other. "Poor
business, but no man could behave more fairly. Lloyd wanted to go, but
gave up the preference. Ollory seemed possessed to get away--Haxon, I
should say. And there was not money enough for both."
Jardine could hardly control his irritation, the revulsion was so
great. He had just been liberated from all his fears and anxieties to
find himself suddenly enmeshed anew. It mattered little indeed that the
foolish, sordid, futile paraphernalia of the fair had been removed,
if the point of danger in divers interpretations, the man himself,
remained. As he stood by the window, frowning down in deep absorption
at the floor, silent, forbidding of aspect, cold and formal as always,
the clerk resumed, somewhat at a loss.
"Lloyd, too, seemed frantic to be off," he said. "He could hardly
resign himself."
He laughed a little at the forlorn plight; it had to him its ludicrous
suggestions. "'Sent for, but couldn't go,'" he quoted gaily.
Jardine made no answer; he was reflecting that both men had doubtless
the best of reasons for quitting the country; he hardly questioned that
they were amenable to the Federal law in some measure for conspiring
with the distillers for the sale of illicit liquor, and reciprocally
profiting thereby through the enterprise of the street fair. The
manager was obviously the responsible individual, the principal, and
his apprehension would rebound with all its conspicuous derogations
upon the personnel of Jardine's own select party. Since one must needs
remain, it was a thousand pities that that one could not have been the
innocuous Captain Ollory.
He did not speak, and the clerk had an unpleasant fear that he had
offended him, for the sake of a phrase, forsooth, in the disparagement
of the most absolute stranger, for whom the duck in reality did not
care a single quack. He waxed suddenly very genial and confidential,
and Jardine, who under other circumstances would have resented the
gossip as familiar and intrusive, was an eager listener--absurdly
enough he had so much at stake in the personality of this man Lloyd.
"'Twas as good as a play," the clerk laughed, "in the office late last
night,--a much better play than any they bill--when they counted out
the money--had it in my desk. All couldn't get off. Ollory wanted to
leave Wick-Zoo, too, but it seemed the wild man had money of his own.
They paid him with a due bill, ha, ha! Ollory wanted to leave the Fat
Lady; he said she was too fat to be disturbed--I don't know whether he
meant mentally or physically--and Lloyd--he's a funny fellow!--he swore
he wouldn't mention such a thing; she was a high-toned lady, if she was
a bit stout! He declared he never would run off and leave a part of
his company stranded, least of all a woman, and one, by her infirmity,
helpless to shift for herself--_he's_ not a bad egg, Mr. Jardine! When
Lloyd saw it must fall between himself and Ollory--Ollory had the money
in his paw; he grabbed it as soon as it was laid on the counter, and to
do him justice he counted out only the transportation--and Lloyd had
the bag to hold, he tried to raise the money for his railroad fare on a
personal valuable that he's got. Told him nobody here did pawn-broking.
Tried me."
"Why didn't you lend it to him?" exclaimed Jardine suddenly, seeing a
way out of the difficulty. It had never occurred to him to pay the man
to go, lest he implicate himself in he knew not what--though money was
no object in this connection. But it was indeed grievous to perceive a
means of extrication so simple, so near, and cast aside.
"Didn't know how valuable valuable might be," the clerk laughed. "Step
in here, Mr. Jardine. Show it to you. Left in safe."
It was a thing of which Mr. Jardine would never have believed himself
capable as he stepped through the window and addressed himself to
appraise a valuable which an unknown man had left in the custody of
an hotel safe. But he made up his mind, however worthless the trinket
might be, to advance to the clerk the necessary sum, to be loaned
through him, without mention of the source whence it came. Anything to
be rid of the incubus of the showman!
His face changed as the clerk touched the spring of a small leather
case. There, reposing on a bed of faint blue Genoa velvet, so faded
as to be near green, was a ring set with a large pigeon's blood ruby;
a row of very white diamonds was encrusted into the dull gold of the
setting, but the red stone was held up in claws, and was visible
throughout.
Jardine had a sudden monition of caution. These were gems of price,
doubtless stolen! He could not--he would not involve himself further
in such a matter, whatever æsthetic discomforts, whatever mortifying
publicity incidents of far less moment might occasion Miss Lucia
Laniston. Every throb of his impulse was still. He was once more the
cautious man of the world.
"Worth the money?" the clerk queried curiously.
"Worth forty times the money," Jardine calmly responded. If the Avoca
House should oblige a guest by lending money on good security it would
rid him of his dilemma, and affect him no further. But beyond this
he promised himself he would not be urged by his adoring, worshipful
reverence for the pellucid aloofness and unapproachableness befitting a
young girl, that lent her the dignity and remote charm of a star. There
were sordid matters to consider in this world, and the responsibility
of trafficking with stolen goods was one of them.
"But look here; these rubies are sometimes what you call doublets,
ain't they? Just a sort of veneer of the real thing over glass."
"This is no doublet," said Jardine, taking the gem into his hand. "This
is a genuine and very perfect stone of a very rare type--the pigeon's
blood ruby."
As he looked at it he was impressed with the antique aspect of the
ring; the setting was in gold of several different tints--green, red,
yellow in two shades. He had not given much attention to ornaments of
this order, but he knew that this method of setting was antiquated,
not to say antique. He thought of the incongruity with the sordid
little show--the high dive, Wick-Zoo, the Ferris Wheel. More than ever
the conviction that the gem was stolen took possession of him. He
suffered suddenly a qualm of conscience. He felt that the clerk was of
limited experience and needed a warning. He ought not to be suffered
unnecessarily to lose his money and involve himself.
"It is so fine, so rare, and so valuable that I am very sure it must be
stolen. I don't say by whom, or when."
"Oh, Mr. Jardine," said the clerk, quite self-sufficient. His cheek
reddened. He was blushing for the imputation. "Don't you think you are
quite a little _too_ suspicious?"
"Perhaps--perhaps! At all events you are warned," said Mr. Jardine, as
he walked past the safe, around the desk, and out of the office by the
door, rather than informally through the window as he had entered.
The clerk looked after him with no very friendly eyes, then he snapped
the old ring in its dingy leather case, and locked it in the safe with
Mr. Jardine's careful warnings. The value of the jewels ascertained he
was prepared to lend the amount of transportation upon it; should he
not be repaid he would profit enormously, and he was altogether willing
to take the risk that however in the vicissitudes of his life the
showman had come by the ring it was honestly owned.
Before the hack started for New Helvetia--it was indeed standing in
front of the door--Frank came fuming up into his mother's room, where
she, his sister, and his cousin were putting on their hats, preparatory
to the journey. The young girls were fresh and bright again in their
white dresses, which had, indeed, been sent to the laundry to be
pressed and now showed as unwrinkled and perfect as if the stiff linen
skirts and dainty little embroidered jackets were donned for the first
time. The embroidered frills of their lingerie hats shaded, yet did
not shadow, their fair faces, which showed no trace of the fatigue
and excitements of yesterday, save that Lucia seemed a bit pale, and
her eyes were larger and more appealing than usual. They were putting
on their long silk gloves, now and then turning to eye each other from
head to foot, for they entertained an enthusiastic mutual admiration,
and were wont to point out a hair awry, or a line out of plumb with a
serious rebuke, as of sacrilege.
Mrs. Laniston was not ill-pleased to be getting back to New Helvetia,
but she regarded the outing as a highly successful break to the
monotony. She could not enter into Mr. Jardine's sentiments in
reference to the little fair; she had noticed his impatience with its
grotesqueness and shortcomings, and in the privacy of the domestic
circle had commented adversely. Did he think it was the Paris
Exposition? she had demanded sarcastically of her daughter and niece.
There is a sort of leniency of judgment peculiarly becoming to the
highly bred and highly placed. Mrs. Laniston realised, for example,
that the little village hotel was not the finest type of house of
entertainment in all the world, but one was fairly comfortable there,
and she seemed courteously unaware that there was aught better or
more pretentious in New York or London, so long as she was under its
hospitable roof. To be easily entertained with the best attainable
was an instinct with her, and when Frank, his boyish face red and his
scanty frown drawn above vexed and troubled eyes, paused with his
hands in his pockets, complaining, "I do declare, that fellow Jardine
bullyrags the life out of me," she was predisposed to be her son's
partisan, and to discriminate against some ultra-fastidious prejudice
of Mr. Jardine's of the sort which, if regarded, would already have
destroyed every vestige of pleasure which the humble little outing
could afford. She whirled half around from the bureau, where she was
standing before the mirror putting on her wide black hat, holding it
with one hand, while with the other she thrust a hat pin tentatively
back and forth through the structure, seeking to find a steady grip in
her masses of grey-blond hair.
"In the name of pity!" she ejaculated, gazing inquiringly at him.
"Ye-es," he whined, "anybody would think I was born yesterday, and
couldn't find my way to the hall door there."
"Well, what is it now?" she asked impatiently, with another thrust of
the hat pin forceful enough to seem to the uninitiated very dangerous.
"Well," he pushed both hands far down in his pockets and took an
aimless step to and fro, his red face overcast and crestfallen with
the sense of being thought a fool, and such a realisation of his own
immaturity as prevented the recouping satisfaction of a full faith
in himself. "I found that that fellow Lloyd would be here a little
while waiting for remittances--it seems the whole show came very near
being stranded, and, like the captain of a sinking ship, he is the
last to leave. Well, it seemed no great absurdity to me, as he is a
first-class, all-round professional athlete, such as I am not likely to
meet again in a hurry, to ask him to give me a few lessons in boxing.
I'm _bound_ to have exercise, and a punchbag is such a lonesome fool!"
Mrs. Laniston evidently did not see the point as yet. The hat adjusted
at last, she began to pull on her black silk gloves over her rather
bony jewelled fingers, gazing the while into the mirror, to which
reflection he addressed his appeal.
"Do you see anything extraordinary in that project?"
"Except the expense of coming from and going to New Helvetia," she
replied a little wonderingly. "I always did think the monopoly of that
hack line ought to be put down. The charges are extortionate--it is
practically impossible to go back and forth as one might like to do in
excursions about the country if rates were reasonable."
"Why, that is what I told the fellow--that I could better afford the
price of the lessons if he were waiting at New Helvetia, instead of
here in Colbury."
"And then?" Mrs. Laniston was very dense; she did not yet perceive the
point.
"Then Lloyd inquired as to the hotel rates at New Helvetia, and when
he found they were lower at this season than the charges for transient
guests at this place he said that he had no objection to going to New
Helvetia--that it would be a change for him, and that he was fed up
with Colbury."
"See here, Frank, you are developing a gift for oratory. Why don't you
come to the point, if there _is_ any point?" Mrs. Laniston, who herself
could hold forth so volubly and with such a flow of well-considered
words, admonished him.
"Why, it seemed such an advantageous arrangement; he said, first off,
that he could give much better value for the money. He could coach
me, too, for the track team--it seems he was once a short-distance
sprinter--free of charge. He said we could just run up and down the
roads for fun, if they were as good as I said. And then we could have a
few bouts with the foils, once in a while--he took a prize for fencing
once in an athletic contest--showed me the medal. And I'm getting
so fat!" Frank's voice rose to a dreary plaint. "I was perfectly
scandalised this morning when I stepped on the public scales on the
other side of the square----"
"We understand," murmured Ruth. "Where they weigh the other prize
calves."
He looked at her with a little grin of appreciation, but, absorbed in
the subject, went on without retort. "I shall be ruled out of every
athletic event at college this year. Whereas, if I train down, and have
this splendid coach to get me fit I may be able to take my place on the
gridiron just as if I hadn't been away; it's only a substitute playing
with the Eleven now."
Mrs. Laniston's mind quickly reviewed the situation. So long as
athletics did not interfere with scholastic grading, her husband and
she had agreed that they were to be encouraged. Frank had neither the
tastes nor the application of a student, but he possessed a good mind,
and a very sound conscience. Since his parents desired he should have a
collegiate education, and take a degree, he read with great diligence,
and they sugar-coated the pill by endorsing the college athletics,
and giving him all the outdoor sport that was craved by his physique,
abounding in vitality and vigour. It was a compact in some sort,
unacknowledged, but very definitely appreciated, that he should grind
and toil, and assimilate a thousand ideas for which, so far, he had
neither use nor liking, and pass his examinations creditably, and that
he should be unmolested to play as he would.
"Yes; it seems an excellent arrangement for the purpose. Mr. Jardine is
a man of very judicious conclusions, but I can't imagine his objections
in this instance."
"Simply threw a fit! I told him that Lloyd and I had signed up a little
contract, for I want only to promise to pay for the boxing lessons. I
couldn't, out of my allowance, undertake to pay for _all_ that fellow
could teach me--he could teach me something of value for every wink
of my eyelids. And Lloyd chimed in, too, and said it was best to have
it understood, for we would probably be lonesome, and spend the time
playing--with Indian clubs, and dumb-bells, and wrestling--and we had
better set down what was to be work, and what was to be pastime."
"Come to the point, Frank! You _are_ long-winded!" his mother
admonished him. She had sunk into a chair, and, as the two girls were
ranged side by side on the sofa, he stood before the family in the
guise of a domestic orator, and made a desperate bolt at the main
statement of his disclosure.
"Threw a fit! Adjured me not to compromise the dignity of the family!"
There was a feminine chorus of exclamations.
"Crazy, ain't he?" said Frank. "I told him a few lessons in boxing
couldn't compromise the dignity of any family that had any dignity. He
said I perversely misunderstood him. For a fact he did. Said it was the
_person_ he objected to. Emphasised _person_ as if he would like Lloyd
better if he went on four feet, like Wick-Zoo, once in a while. I asked
him what was the matter with Lloyd. Said that on account of my folly he
had had an opportunity to ride with Miss Laniston in the Wheel."
"Well, upon my word!" exclaimed Mrs. Laniston.
And the two young ladies grew breathless and round-eyed.
"It was his own fault--he should have called off the event; he could
have said that he was waiting for me; his party was not complete. I
did not dare suggest this, though. I declare I have had to eat enough
humble-pie this morning to destroy my appetite forever." And Frank
drew out his handkerchief, and, with a long-suffering air, mopped his
shining, roseate, fresh face.
"I think it was very ill-judged in Mr. Jardine to bring the mention
of Miss Laniston into the matter," said Mrs. Laniston, her delicate
features flushing with irritation.
"In my humble mind that was the only impropriety committed," said
Frank. "But of course on account of my youth, and being a sort of
standard fool, I did not dare to say so. But I did pluck up enough to
state that we could not consider Lloyd's riding in the Wheel with Miss
Laniston in any sense except as a convenience to her, to weight the
machine, and we could not base any action on any other hypothesis."
"You were very right," said his mother heartily, and Frank, encouraged
by this infrequent and unexpected approval, took heart of grace to
continue, fetched a long sigh of relief, and once more mopped his face
with his handkerchief.
"I said to Jardine that there had been no presumption whatever in the
man's conduct, and that the suggestion was offensive to us."
"Very well, indeed," said Mrs. Laniston. She was thinking that Frank,
after all, was not so incompetent as a squire of dames, and was
realising how the contortion of the circumstances in Jardine's mind
would affect George Laniston, should he hear that version.
"But you won't believe that he wouldn't accept the situation. He called
me a boy, and of course I had to submit to that. He said the showman
had noticed our family at table--he had been offended to observe it. As
if, in this free and enlightened country, people should fall on their
faces, with their faces in the dust at our august approach. I reminded
him that the bullet-eyed man stared at us, and that it was _we_ who
stared at the manager, who is liable to that sort of thing, for he has
got the face of a god or an archangel--told me, when I asked him where
was his photograph in the show collection, that he had promised Duroc,
the painter, not to be taken till his great picture, 'The Last Day,' is
finished. Lloyd is the model for the angel Gabriel in that, and he says
it's great, though he thinks the horn makes him look like a translated
spieler."
"But about Mr. Jardine----"
"Mamma, I think I am the most put-upon fellow that ever lived. That
great Jay stopped Lloyd as he passed and told him that I was a minor,
and incapable of making a contract--in my presence, mind you; _in my
presence_!"
"Why, Frank!" exclaimed Mrs. Laniston, amazed and offended.
"Oh, he did it in a sort of innocuous way--he's very crafty; said I'd
been telling him about the arrangement, and then, as if jocularly
reminding me of a disability, said that I was a minor, and the
contract invalid. He slicked it over and smoothed it down. I think he
could smooth down the Great Smoky Mountains, if he should try his hand
on them."
"And what did Mr. Lloyd say?" asked Mrs. Laniston, very seriously
annoyed and indignant.
"Really, he seemed the best-bred man of the two. He said he would
consider my word as good as my bond--the contract was merely a
memorandum, as between us two, determining what exercises should be
considered business and be paid for, the rest being merely amusement
and voluntary. He passed it off easily, but I felt extremely out of
countenance."
"I must say Mr. Jardine takes a good deal on himself," Mrs. Laniston
said, holding her head very high, the colour mantling her cheek, "and
his standpoint is very unreasonable. That you should not hire the
services of an athletic coach, because he took a vacant place beside
Miss Laniston, in order to weight the machine and make it safe, there
being no one else for the purpose in the party, he being the manager
and owner of the apparatus, is more than preposterous. We must take no
notice of Mr. Jardine's assumptions that there was anything derogatory
in the matter. We will treat the man like any other stranger. And now
let us get back to New Helvetia where, thank a merciful providence,
there is somebody besides the wearisome Mr. Jardine!"
The approach to New Helvetia ushered Lloyd into a new experience,
despite his wide wanderings in many ways. The trails he had followed
had not sought seclusion; a full population, showward bent, was the
desideratum of his journey's goal hitherto. He had scarcely realised
that there was so lonely a region on the face of the earth as the dense
and gigantic forests through which the smooth, hard, red clay road
led. The scarlet oak, the sumach, and the sourwood on exposed slopes
to the north had turned red, and flaunted gorgeously against the blue
sky. The foliage of hickory now and again appeared at sudden turns, a
clear translucent yellow from trunk to topmost twig. Here and there
great grey crags showed through boughs still green and lush, that yet
held the summer captive, loath to let it go. There was a stream that
kept the road company, as if apart they might be affrighted in the
vast unbroken wildernesses, and now it showed a miniature cataract,
clear as crystal, fringed with foam, leaping down great broken ledges;
and now it brawled, widening into marshy tangles by the wayside; and
now it ran over rocks, and flashed and frothed like rapids; and now
it showed stretches of smooth golden flow above a bed of gravel, with
here and there the sudden silver glinting of a water-break. He watched
it with a sort of fascinated revery, unconsciously marking its moods
and garnering its spirit. Occasionally a gap in the woods showed the
mountains, vast, endless, austere, dominating all the world, and he
appreciated that the road was continuously rising by gentle degrees to
higher and higher levels. The horses were fleet and strong; the roads
only fairly good, for in some localities the rain had converted the red
clay into mud of a most tenacious character; elsewhere the downpour
had come with such force as to beat the ground hard. Here they bowled
swiftly; the driver, evidently, had a monition toward atoning for the
interval when they toiled and bogged through the sloughs. There had
been a delay at the last moment; a new passenger presented himself who
could not be ready to start till one o'clock, and, though Mr. Jardine
had protested that he had chartered the hack,--in the phrase of the
region,--the driver declared that the orders of the line required him
to take up all the custom he could gather before it was necessary
to leave town in order to make the run before dark. The episode had
greatly irritated Jardine, but he found a certain consolation in the
fact that the presence of this representative of the general public,
so to speak, exerted a repressive influence on the exuberance of the
two young ladies. The incidents that had marked the trip down were not
repeated--the pauses to alight and gather wild flowers; the shrieks of
delight over some lovely vista of the stream and protestations how dear
it would be to wade in the shallow crystal flood, floored with golden
gravel and great solid ledges of moss-grown rock; the determination
which could not be gainsaid to visit the shaft of a mine, worked for
silver, in a primitive way, hard by, where a windlass was in operation.
Lucia unexpectedly stepped into the swaying bucket above the abyss of
ninety feet, holding her skirts tight about her, and ordered the men
to lower her, that she might look into the intersecting tunnel. "I'll
bring you luck," she declared. "I'm a mascot!"
"Shure I niver knew till to-day, leddy, that anny o' the fairies had
emigrated from Oirland, their native land," said an old Irishman, as
she alighted from the bucket, relinquishing, with pretended reluctance,
the descent which her aunt with some precipitancy forbade; the
compliment in a rich brogue, and the flattering twinkle of the eye had
set Jardine wild, but Mrs. Laniston had laughed pleasantly, and had
descanted elaborately, after they were in the stage once more, on the
national gift of blended blarney and poesy that tips the tongue of an
Irishman, of whatever degree, wherever found.
Now all was changed. Strangers were fellow-travellers. Placed with Mrs.
Laniston on the back seat of the "hack," the young ladies had relapsed
into the inexpressive, sedate demeanour which they assumed so easily
when subjected to the gaze of the outside world. It might have been
different, thought Jardine, if only Lloyd--who had unluckily acquired a
quasi acquaintance--had been added to the family party.
The person who thus reconciled Mr. Jardine to the fact of his creation
and appearance on this occasion was himself disposed to take little
note of the personnel and conditions of his environment. He was a
tall, portly man, with a strong, handsome, rather round, face, a
florid complexion, and round, somewhat staring, eyes; middle-aged,
soberly dressed, and extremely reticent. Beyond an undeveloped feint
of a bow to the assemblage in the hack when he entered the vehicle, he
accorded none of them a moment's notice. He had the front seat beside
the driver; each of the other two seats held three passengers, Jardine
being between Lloyd and Laniston, and controlling the very scanty
conversation, taking the word whenever an observation was ventured by
either. This line of tactics greatly nettled Frank, who, being unable
to appropriately return it in kind, relapsed into a marked silence.
Lloyd was apparently not aware of its significance, for he responded
pleasantly, though monosyllabically, but indeed Jardine permitted
nothing more.
When they reached the foot of the mountain, however, and the driver
paused to breathe the horses, the men alighting to lessen the burden
for the steep ascent, the stranger, who had presumably been profiting
by the platitudes with which Mr. Jardine had beguiled the journey,
did not select his company as solace in the long, stiff tramp. On the
contrary he attached himself to Lloyd, and together they were soon
well in advance of the straining team, while Frank and Jardine walked
on either side of the vehicle and talked to the ladies over the high
wheels. Here, out of sight and beyond the participation of the mere
outsiders, Mr. Jardine was pleased to unbend, and be most affable and
entertaining, for he did not include in the scheme of creation such
objects as the driver--the mere furniture of life--a stalwart young
mountaineer, walking nimbly beside his team, holding the reins in his
hand, and calling out admonitions and encouragements. As he could not,
afoot, use the brake Frank found occupation and utility in "scotching"
the wheels with a big stone, or locking them with the chain, generally
used to impede a too rapid descent, whenever the team was halted on the
steep acclivity for a few minutes of breathing space.
Lucia, with her quick faculties, was well-fitted for a duplicate mental
process. She smiled appropriately when Jardine made his neat little
points of mirth, or nodded serious acquiescence, when his remarks
seemed of weight. In reality she gave him only the most superficial
attention, barely enough to discern the trend of his talk. Her interest
was concentrated on the two pedestrians ahead, and once more she
wondered how the showman should look such a gentleman. The road curved
and doubled in innumerable turns to evade slants impossible to the
straining horses. Looking upward one could see it here and there in
the breaks of the thinning foliage, suggesting unwound coils of brown
ribbon. The wind came fresh and free, laden with the sweet dank odours
of the fallen leaves, the exquisite freshness of the mountain heights,
and all the bouquet and tang of the wayside herbage. It brought the
words of the two pedestrians, now passing them on a higher level, and
visible above a mass of broken rock.
"Late in the season to visit the mountain resorts," the elder man
observed.
"They are usually closed by this time," Lloyd politely responded.
"I suppose the yellow fever in the South detains their patrons."
Then they both trudged silently on.
The horses were once more urged forward; in their improved speed
Jardine and Frank both fell behind. The driver, who had no possibility
of comprehending the many finical delicacies which racked Mr. Jardine's
prepossessions, kept up the pace till he had passed the two passengers
on ahead, and when next he paused in the shade to rest, the stanch
team, sweating at every pore, they presently overtook in turn the
stationary vehicle, and stoutly marched past, without a word or glance
for the occupants.
"Fine water at these springs?" suggested the stranger.
"So I hear, but I am new to the place--never was here before," Lloyd
replied.
His fine figure was especially marked, the perfection of strength
and symmetry, as he went swinging past, his hands in the pockets of
his light fawn-tinted suit, his hat tipped slightly over his eyes, a
spray of the jewel-weed, which he had caught up by the wayside, in his
buttonhole, keeping step with his portly companion, who was content
to pound over the ground anyhow, regardless of grace, as a man of his
weight must needs be.
Jardine, all blown, and panting, and eager from his hasty pull after
the hack--he and Frank had sought to shorten the distance by a
cross-cut through from one curve to another, and hindered by brambles
and obstructed by boulders, had found it hard travelling--had noticed,
too, the figures on ahead, and had heard the words as the wind wafted
to him the casual talk. He had taken off his hat, and was wiping the
traces of his exertion from his brow with his fine white cambric
handkerchief.
From time to time the elder stranger fixed the eyes of a very close and
keen observation on his companion. He was evidently interested, even
inquisitive.
"You hardly look as if you need the waters for your health, sir," he
said.
"I am particularly fit, just now," said Lloyd. But he made no advances
to gratify the curiosity of his new acquaintance. His reserve struck
Jardine with a peculiarly sinister suggestion. Did the showman fear
this stranger, and why? He remembered his own conclusion, that the
street carnival had been involved in the sale of the moonshine whisky
and that the manager as representative was personally liable. A new
fear fell upon him like a thunderbolt. This stranger was doubtless a
detective, an emissary of the revenue department, who was tracking
and shadowing this man till he had grounds sufficient for the arrest.
And Frank Laniston--the callow fool!--had brought upon him, upon his
own family so ill-flavoured and derogatory an association. Nothing
had supervened like this--the detective might arrest the creature
at any moment, and had the authority to call on him, and Laniston,
and the driver as a _posse comitatus_ to assist him in apprehending
and securing his prisoner. What else could bring a man of this type
here, at this season, an evident stranger to the locality, when the
sojourners of the Spa had flitted home, and business was booming in
the cities, and only a few old habitués of the place, a mere handful,
lingered, extending the summer, to avoid the yellow fever in the South.
As these thoughts surged through Jardine's mind he followed the
vehicle with so disordered and exhausted a step, although he was of
a stanch, wiry, and tough physique, that Mrs. Laniston called out to
him, inviting him to ride for a while, saying there was quite a level
stretch of road ahead, and the additional weight would not harass
the horses here. He so far collected his faculties as to express his
thanks, and protest his comfortable state, and then fell back to
contemplate the horrible possibility. Good God! what would people say!
In what fantastic guise would they imagine he disposed of himself,
to come into such a plight. He, too, kept an eye on the two figures
in advance, and he gave strict heed to their words, as in detached
fragments they floated back.
Evidently Lloyd thought a counter-query was in order.
"They say the waters have wonderful medicinal qualities. Do you expect
to take them?"
"Me--no, no, sir. No, indeed. I am here on a piece of business,
important business. Out-of-the-way place."
He seemed not only to Jardine, but to Lloyd, to cast a singularly sharp
and wary eye upon the figure at his side. In fact he was obviously
scanning the contour of the showman's face for some moments, when he
suddenly said:
"If it is not an impertinence, sir, may I ask your motive in visiting
New Helvetia?"
"Business, too, in a way," said Lloyd. "I am a coach for that young
gentleman beside the hack."
"The classics?" the stranger asked respectfully.
"Oh, Lord, no!" poor Lloyd burst out explosively. "Excuse me, but I'm
an athletic coach. He wants to train down for the gridiron--and he
needs it, too--going all to fat."
Once more the long keen scrutiny, from which Lloyd visibly winced; his
cheeks reddened; his hot, hunted eyes gazed straight ahead; his step
flagged. Nevertheless he held his ground and kept his self-control.
"And is this coaching your regular profession?" the inquisitive
stranger persisted.
"I have no regular profession," Lloyd hesitated. Then, gathering his
nerve with a mighty effort, he boldly risked absolute candour. "I
have done many stunts in the athletic line. Performed in circuses and
shows; sung a little, too----" with a wry contortion of his perfectly
chiselled lips, for he knew what good music is, and he loved it. "But
lately I have been trying to make some money on my own account. I have
been the manager of a street fair----"
"Oh, fool, fool, fool!" Jardine apostrophised him, between set teeth.
"A good, clean show it was," continued Lloyd, "some unparalleled
attractions; finest high dive I ever saw. But we went to pieces
here--got stranded--and----"
The wind carried away the words, and as Jardine, still muttering,
"Fool--fool," looked up, he saw the tall, portly figure stop short,
lean forward, and clutch the manager excitedly by the arm. The next
moment the foliage intervened. Suddenly there rose on the air Lloyd's
voice, pitched high, in wild agitated exclamations, and the deep,
steady, bass tones of the stranger. Then was silence, and the forests
received them, and the tourists below saw and heard no more.