The Adventure of Atherton
Atherton stood on the steps of the cafe watching Mills' departure
until his friend's broad back and sturdy shoulders were swallowed up
in the crowd; then, descending to the street, he strolled leisurely
away in the opposite direction. But although, as he had just said to
Mills, Blagden's enthusiasm had inspired him, he now concluded that it
was not at this particular moment that he desired adventure, for there
is a limit to human endurance, and the experiences of the day had left
him exhausted both in body and mind. So that in spite of Blagden's
counsel as to keeping constantly on the alert, he threaded his way
through the throng absent-mindedly, his thoughts, through force of
long habit, reverting instinctively to the ticker, whose sudden plunge
downward had proved so ruinous to all his hopes and plans.
At length, however, as he turned aside from the main thoroughfare, he
was roused from his abstraction by the sight of an automobile standing
motionless at the curb, while the chauffeur cranked away manfully, but
without result, and a tall, well-built man of middle age, evidently
the owner of the car, stood looking on with a frown upon his brow. The
whole affair was commonplace enough, and presumably Atherton would not
have given it a second thought, if it had not been for the girl who
stood at the man's side; but at the sight of her, her beauty and the
charm of her radiant youth suddenly made him forget everything else in
the world, and under the pretense of looking into a neighboring
window, he lingered for the pure delight of stealing an occasional
glance at her, already determined that as soon as the car took its
departure he would contrive to note its number, so that he might learn
its owner's name.
But a still better opportunity was to present itself, for presently
there came an explosion, not from the car but from its owner. "That
will do," he said crisply. "You can't run an automobile, and never
could. You're discharged. Go to the garage and tell them to send for
the car, and come out to-morrow for your pay and your clothes."
Without protest, and almost as if glad to escape thus easily, the
chauffeur vanished around the corner, and immediately Atherton, lover
and master of motors, saw the Goddess of Adventure beckoning to him
alluringly. At once he stepped forward, and asked, "Beg pardon, but
may I help you?"
The owner glanced at him sharply. "That depends," he retorted, "on how
much you know about a car. I doubt if you could know any less than the
idiot I was fool enough to hire. If you want to try, go ahead."
Without the loss of an instant Atherton began his investigations.
"Spark's all right," he muttered; then, sniffing the air suspiciously,
he added, "but I can smell gas; she must have sprung a leak." And
inserting his hand under the carbureter, he brought it forth again,
his palm dripping with gasolene. "Feed pipe," he decided, but shrewdly
surmising that the owner would care more for results than for
explanations, he kept his knowledge to himself, and drawing his knife
from his pocket, he dropped on his knees beside the car and after a
few moments' deft manipulation, rose, walked forward, and gave the
crank a vigorous turn. There followed two or three spasmodic reports,
after which the engine, once more receiving its normal supply of gas,
settled down to work and began to whirr away in perfect and melodious
rhythm. Whereupon Atherton, who by this time was beginning to find
enjoyment in the situation, approached the owner of the car and
touching his cap, reported, "All right, sir; she'll run now."
The owner eyed him keenly. "Good," was his brief comment; then added
in a tone that was half a statement, half a query, "You're not a
professional chauffeur?"
There was a moment's silence before Atherton, seized by inspiration,
answered, "Well, not exactly, sir; not at present. The fact is, I'm
looking for a situation."
Again the keen appraising glance, followed by question and reply.
"You're a good driver?"
"Yes, sir, I can drive a car."
"My name is Hamilton. I live near Rosecroft, about twenty miles out of
town. Do you want to drive me there?"
This time Atherton did not hesitate. At once he recognized his
patron's name, and became aware that here was a genuine adventure, an
opportunity not to be disregarded. And accordingly, striving to adopt
a tone appropriate to his new employment, he responded respectfully,
"Yes, sir, I'd be glad to."
Hamilton turned to the girl. "Jump in, Helen," he said, and to
Atherton, in the manner of a man thoroughly accustomed to giving
orders, "Now find the nearest telephone; ring the Central Garage and
tell them that I shan't need them, after all. Do it as quick as you
can, and then come back here."
He stepped into the motor, and Atherton, smiling to himself, hastened
to carry out the banker's orders, and then returned to the car, eager
to discover what the outcome of this adventure would be, and
determined to show his passengers that he had not overstated his
ability as a chauffeur.
Nor did he disappoint them, although as a matter of fact he had every
opportunity for producing a favorable impression. The roads were
perfect, the car behaved splendidly, and aided by occasional brief
instructions from Mr. Hamilton, in a little over an hour from their
departure he entered the winding driveway, experienced a momentary
glimpse of wide lawns, shrubbery and stately trees, and brought the
car to a halt beneath the portico. Immediately the door opened, and a
dark, dapper-looking little man in livery came down the steps to meet
them, alertly enough, yet as it seemed to Atherton with the air of one
a trifle unaccustomed to his surroundings. And that this impression
was correct became evident when Mr. Hamilton, alighting, looked at the
servant in some surprise and then as if suddenly recollecting said,
"Oh yes, you're the new second man. Where is Martin?"
"Martin, sir," the man answered, "has retired. Shall I tell him that
you are here?"
"No, never mind," answered Mr. Hamilton. "Ask the housekeeper to get
us something to eat." And turning to Atherton, he added brusquely,
"You said you were looking for a situation. Do you want this one?"
The question, under the circumstances, was not wholly unexpected, and
Atherton, during the drive, had had ample opportunity to make up his
mind as to his answer. So that now he replied promptly, "Yes, sir.
Very much indeed, sir."
"Satisfactory references?" asked the banker, and Atherton, knowing a
number of men upon whom he could rely, responded, "Yes, sir."
Whereupon the financier, without further questioning, observed, "Very
well then, you're engaged on trial." And to his daughter, "I'm going
to ask Bellingham to show him to his room. By the way, what's your
name?"
"Atherton, sir," answered the new chauffeur.
"Very well," said Hamilton again. "Wait here."
He disappeared within the house, but Helen Hamilton, instead of
following him, remained standing on the porch, and presently, with
frank approval, she remarked, "You drive a car very well indeed. Much
better than the other man."
At her words, Atherton felt as if the genial warmth of his romance had
suffered a sudden chill. The other _man_. He did not care for the
term, for it made him realize that although he had obtained a foothold
in the Hamilton family, he had gained it by means of the rear entrance
instead of the front. He was a servant, Mr. Hamilton's _man_. But
though at first resentful, he soon had the grace to perceive that
after all his position was of his own choosing, and accordingly he
answered deferentially, "I thank you, miss, very much indeed."
There followed silence, and Atherton, fearing that she would depart,
was racking his brains to discover some method of prolonging the
conversation, when she solved the problem for him by continuing, "I am
really very glad that we met you to-night."
Immediately, Atherton felt a glow of joy, only the next instant to
have his hopes again dispelled as she added, "It is an excellent
chance for you. Mr. Bellingham will give you all the details, but I
know that for one thing if you suit my father he always allows his
chauffeurs two sets of livery free."
Atherton gazed at her, wondering if any object underlay her words. Her
glance was sincerity itself; her tone seemed blandly philanthropic;
yet Atherton could not make himself believe that the daughter of
Marshall Hamilton would stand upon the porch of her house at midnight,
discussing the terms of his employment with an unknown chauffeur. No.
Even if he flattered himself unduly by the assumption, he imagined
that she must have detected at least a trace of the gentleman in his
demeanor, and was trying to draw him out. Yet despite his blind and
adoring infatuation, he promptly decided that if this were her
purpose, he would give her no satisfaction, and therefore with assumed
eagerness he answered greedily, "That's very generous of him, miss.
And I hope, miss, he don't object to something with a bit of life to
it. A purple, miss, with a red stripe, is tasty; very rich and tasty
indeed."
If she was puzzled by his reply, she did not show it, but whether at
the vision of the "tasty" suit, or for some other reason, she broke
forth into silvery laughter, so bewitching that the enraptured
Atherton, in another moment, might have capitulated and revealed to
her the secret of his identity, if the door had not opened to announce
the return of Mr. Hamilton, followed by a good-looking young fellow,
apparently some four or five years Atherton's senior.
"Bellingham," said the banker, "this is Atherton, who is to take
Rawlings' place, temporarily at least, perhaps permanently. I wish you
would show him his room, and explain to him the customary routine.
Have the car ready at half past eight."
Bellingham acknowledged the introduction with a nod, jumped into the
car, and they started at once for the stables. Atherton's first
impression of his new acquaintance was not particularly favorable, for
the secretary was evidently preoccupied and hardly spoke until he had
conducted the new chauffeur to his pleasant and comfortable room in
the upper portion of the stables. But here, as he lit the light and
for the first time had a fair chance to see what the new arrival
looked like, a sudden change came over him, and after a somewhat
prolonged scrutiny he suddenly exclaimed, "Well, I may not be in a
class with the well-known Mr. Holmes, but if descriptions and family
resemblances count for anything, I should say the odds were about a
hundred to one that you were a cousin of Billy Atherton, Princeton,
'12."
It was Atherton's turn to stare. "Right you are," he answered. "Do you
know Billy?"
"More or less," responded Bellingham. "We roomed together for four
years."
And suddenly Atherton remembered. "What a fool I am!" he cried. "Hugh
Bellingham, of course. I never thought of it. Why, I've heard about
you from Billy time and again."
They stood gazing at each other, and at precisely the same moment
both of them began to grin. "I suppose," said Atherton, a trifle
sheepishly, "that you're wondering about this fool chauffeur
business--"
But Bellingham cut him short. "My dear fellow," he rejoined, "I'm not
wondering at anything. It's none of my business what you are. And as
far as that goes, you have an equal right to wonder at my job; I fear
it's not a very exalted one for a college graduate to hold. But we're
neither of us on the witness stand. All I can say is that I'm glad
you're here, and if there's anything I can do to make you comfortable,
or anything I can tell you about the household, why just fire away and
ask me what you please. I'm quite at your service."
There was a sincerity in his tone that Atherton appreciated. "You're
mighty good," he answered, "and there are some things I'd like to
know, but first, if you don't mind, I'd like to explain my being
here." And forthwith, while Bellingham seated himself on the side of
the bed and listened attentively, Atherton briefly recounted his
misadventures in the market, his meeting with Mills and Blagden, and
his subsequent search for adventure, with its most unlooked-for
ending.
When he had finished, Bellingham sat for some moments in thoughtful
silence before he replied, "Atherton, we're getting pretty
confidential on short acquaintance, but of course it's not as though
we were absolute strangers. And I want to take a liberty, and give you
a piece of advice. The man who does that is usually a fool, but you
will understand me better if I follow your example, and tell you just
why I am in my present position. When I was a year or so older than
you are now, I made the same mistake that you have just made. I went
broke in the stock market, tried for over six months to land a job,
and finally found employment with Mr. Hamilton, and have been here
ever since. So at all events there is a bond of sympathy between us."
"By Jove, I should say so," Atherton answered, "and I imagine, if we
knew the truth, we could find a long list of fellow sufferers."
"Not a doubt of it," replied the secretary, "and that leads up to what
I wish to say. If you're like me, if you're like ninety-nine men out
of a hundred, you'll find that after a while you'll forget your
lesson, and you'll rake and scrape to get money together to go back
into the game again. And what I want to urge upon you, most earnestly,
is just this: Don't do it. I'm not at liberty to tell you all I know,
but I can tell you this: You can't beat the game, and to go on trying
is nothing more nor less than dashing your head against a wall. It's
suicide in either case."
Neither his earnestness nor his good-will could be misunderstood, and
Atherton was quick to respond, "I don't doubt that you're right, and
I'll surely remember what you say. But I don't think I'm going to be
tempted again; I believe I know when I've had enough."
The secretary was silent. Presently he rose from his seat and
nervously paced up and down the room before he finally came to a halt
in front of the new chauffeur.
"Atherton," he said, "doubtless you'll think I'm crazy, but I assure
you that I'm not. And you can't appreciate what a godsend it is to me
to have you here. I want to ask two favors of you, and I repeat that I
was never more serious in my life. Do you mind letting me tell you
what they are?"
The events of the day--and night--had been so many, so varied, and so
nearly akin to those of a "movie show," that Atherton had reached a
point where he felt really incapable of experiencing surprise at
anything. And therefore he simply responded, inelegantly but heartily,
"Why, sure, fire ahead."
"Then first," said the secretary, "if at any time during your stay
here you think you discover anyone in the household, from Mr. Hamilton
down, trying to spy upon me, either by daylight or dark, I want you to
promise that you will let me know as soon as you possibly can. Are you
willing to do that?"
"Of course I am," responded Atherton. "I'm afraid I'm not worth much
in the detective line, but I'll keep my eyes open, and let you know if
I see anything out of the ordinary. That settles number one; what's
number two?"
"This," Bellingham answered. "If I had to leave very suddenly, could
you give me an address in the city where I could go and stay for a
little while, in case I wanted a temporary hiding-place? I mean a
house where I could be sure that I could trust the occupants; the
quieter the locality, the better for me."
Atherton pulled out his memorandum book, tore out a page, and scrawled
Blagden's address across it. "Here's the very place," he answered.
"And if I find that you've left, I'll get in touch with Blagden at
once and tell him to be on the lookout for you. The neighborhood is
just what you're after; old-fashioned and peaceful."
Bellingham took the paper and thrust it into his pocket. "That's
fine," he said with evident relief, "and thank you for being willing
to take me seriously. Perhaps some day I can explain everything to
you; I might even be able to reciprocate your kindness."
Atherton smiled. "You can reciprocate right now, if you'd like to," he
responded. "I'd like to ask you just one question. Is Miss Hamilton
engaged to be married, or anything like that?"
Bellingham stared; then smiled in his turn. "So that's it," he
rejoined. "Well, now the chauffeur business becomes clear. And I'm
glad that I may relieve your mind. No, there have been plenty of
applicants, but I don't think the right one has yet appeared. I
believe she is still heart whole and fancy free."
Atherton heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear that," he
answered, and unable to remain quiet, he leaped to his feet, and in
his turn began to pace the room. "Bellingham!" he cried, "she is--she
is--" but the words would not come, and his very silence bore witness
to the fervor of his love.
Bellingham, in spite of his worries and anxieties, threw back his head
and laughed aloud. "My dear fellow!" he cried, "you're certainly hard
hit. But let me tell you this. I've known Miss Hamilton for three
years, and I can testify that no finer girl ever lived. I wish you
luck, Atherton, although I must say that just at present I should
think you were laboring under quite a handicap."
At the thought of his poverty, Atherton's face fell, but the next
moment he regained his confidence. "A handicap," he retorted, "makes a
fellow do his best. If I hadn't lost my money, I should never have met
Miss Hamilton; and by Jove, Bellingham, it's worth the price. I don't
regret it."
At this reasoning, the secretary smiled, but he answered kindly,
"Well, I think you deserve to succeed. But I'll leave you now, for
it's late, and you must be tired."
They parted at the door, and Atherton, left alone, began slowly to
disrobe, reflecting earnestly upon the events of the last twelve
hours. "Some day," was his conclusion. "Some hectic day." And at the
thought of his friends and the meeting in the restaurant, he added,
half aloud, "I'll have to admit that Blagden is a wonder. 'Adventure'
is certainly right."