Lonesome Town

by E. S. Dorrance and James French Dorrance

  CHAPTER XXVI--HOUSE OF BLOCKS

  For a moment silence tortured. Then sounded an imperative tappingagainst the locked door.

  Pape, standing within arm-reach of the handle, felt something hard andcold slipped into his grasp; realized that Jane had re-armed him;appreciated her mute suggestion that it would be better, were they knownto be blocked within, to take his chance of overcoming a single enemythan to wait until reenforcements arrived.

  A second he considered the automatic, before placing it in his pocketready for emergency in case his arms and fists could not decide theissue. To throw open the door and drag inside the disturber would be thebest beginning to fight's finish. He waved the girl toward the far wall;soundlessly turned the latch; flung back with a jerk to admit----

  Their pursuer was official, yes, although not so much so as they hadfeared. With a bound he entered just below Pape's ready fists--and onfour feet instead of two.

  "Kicko--you scoundrel!"--Pape, sternly.

  "Precious pup!"--Jane, caressingly, from the floor seat into which shehad collapsed from very weakness of her relief.

  Pape mounted the wobbly doorstep and peered outside. No accompanyingofficers loomed through the fast-falling shadows. Either the dog hadoutsped them or had deserted them temporarily for some reason canine andless comprehensible. On relatching the door and facing about, he sawthat reason.

  The Belgian, his tail waving like a feather fan, trotted toward thegirl, swinging from his mouth a shiny object which explained why he hadbumped against and scratched at the door, instead of barking foradmittance. In Jane's lap he deposited the tin lunch pail, to carrywhich to his master at noon-time was his dearest duty and privilege.

  More than curiosity as to its contents--an animal eagerness almost asunrestrained as the dog's, returned Pape to his former seat upon thecuff of his coat and hurried his removal of the lid. Three hoveredgratefully over the removed contents of that pail. Certainly two wereready to believe that the errand of the third had been as innocent as itnow looked. They gave the quondam deserter benefit of every doubt, ifonly the dog's share of the benefits he had brought.

  "You've vindicated yourself, Towser," remarked Pape. "The lady in thiscase was right. She looks to me like one of the perfect kind that alwaysis--right, you know. _She_ said, old side-Kick, that you'd gone to bringa party. And you sure have brought one--some party, this! From thedepths of the heart of my inner man, I crave your pardon."

  The Belgian's grant of grace was as prompt as moist. His anxietycentered upon a less subtle exchange.

  "Oh, I am _so_ hungry--that's mostly what made me collapse!" Janesighed. "You see, I've formed the bad habit of eating once in a while.I'd quarrel over a crust of stale rye bread. Butboiled-tongue-and-mustard sandwiches, potato salad, apple pie--Peter,let's _begin_!"

  It did not take the three of them long to demonstrate that there was oneluncheon of which Shepherd Tom never should get a crumb. Between bitesPape remembered aloud the herdsman's rather dubious admission of Kicko'spropensity at times to present the precious pail to the "wrong" person.In this case, however, even he must have admitted that the wrong was theright. As the edge of their hunger was dulled they deducted thepossibilities. Either the police dog had missed his master at the noonhour or allowed himself to be distracted by some canine caprice.Happening into the excitement of the posse, he had relinquished the pailto join the chase. Afterward, having found preferred friends rather thanenemies to be the quarry, he had remembered duty neglected and brokenaway to retrieve his pail.

  The three-from-one meal ended, the girl took off her hat and settledback against the stone wall with a smile the more aesthetic for itsphysical content. The dog, although fuller of good-fellowship than offood, emulated her smile in spirit if not in expression, stretched outacross their feet, gaped his mouth and flopped his tail. The man wasable to delight the more in that rare smile on Jane's reposeful featuresbecause released from crasser cravings. He leaned low toward her in thedusk, as though to be under its downshed radiance.

  Her beauty seemed to intensify--to be taking the light and making thedarkness. Small wonder, he thought, that blind eyes ached again tobehold that face, pure as marble alive, tender of line, yet strong--eyesthe purple of a royal mystery, lips the color of life, hair a black,lustrous veil draped to reveal, rather than conceal.

  "You look," said he, "like the spirit of evening--the spirit that luresa fellow away from the rest of the world and contents him with one warmhearth-fire, one steady light, one complete companionship. Every man whobattles through his day hopes for that spirit at his eventide. I havebattled a bit to-day, Jane, and I--I can't help hoping----"

  "You believe in spirits, then?" she asked as if to cover, even in thatsympathetic light, the suggestion of his broken words.

  He nodded. "Assorted kinds--liquid, ghosts--and you."

  "Then maybe you won't laugh at my fancy--" her voice loweredsuperstitiously--"that Grandfather Lauderdale's spirit is hoveringaround inside this block-house--_now_."

  He did laugh, but softly. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

  "Oh, he wouldn't like any such formality! I can just see him sizing youup for himself with one glance of those blue, cliff-browed eyes of his.He used to tell me my inmost little-girl secrets before I could confidethem to him, he was so second-sighted. The first time he brought me herewas at one of his flag-raising dawns. I was very small, but I'll neverforget him, my tall, strong old fire-eater whom everybody but me thoughtqueer, with his magnificent head of thick, white, curling hair. A sortof glory lit in his face from the rising sun and the tears staggeredthrough the furrows of his cheeks when the flag caught thebreeze--spread out its full assurance of the freedom he had fought towin."

  "Never mind that introduction. Already you have presented him to me.Howdy, old-timer! Right glad to meet you."

  Pape, his grin gone, reached forward and grasped and shook the emptyair.

  "As I grew older," Jane continued, "I came with him often. One time waswhen they planted a bronze tablet in the outer wall as a tribute to theoutpost service which this house rendered in the War of 1812."

  "They did, eh? A tablet--for the War of----" More than before Papelooked interested. "Maybe it ain't granddad's spirit, after all--maybeonly the ghost of association."

  "No, I'm sure it is he. Wait. Perhaps he has a message for us." Stillwith that vague smile on her lips, Jane closed her eyes and spokedreamily: "He _has_ a message. It is for me. He wants me to give youwhat I've wanted to give you all along, my entire confidence--to tellyou that I've trusted you from first glance, no matter how I'veacted--to tell you just what is the improbable-sounding treasure thatwe've been hunting so desperately, lest our enemies find and destroyit--to tell you how and why the possession of it will clear my father'sname and restore us to that 'fortune forevermore' promised in hiscryptogram. You'll be incredulous at first, Peter Pape, but all willwork out once we have possession of--Listen, closely, now. That crock ofthe first verse holds----"

  Pape, despite her allegedly mystic instructions, interrupted: "Don'twant you to tell me! Won't hear it!"

  "Why-Not Pape," her eyes flashed open, "you're a--At least, you _might_be said to be mulish, the way you stick to a point."

  "Did granddad's spirit dictate that?" he enquired mildly.

  "No. That's thrown in on my own account. It is ridiculous for you to berisking life and limb, reputation, money and comfort, for somethingwhose very nature you don't know."

  "But I do know for what I'm risking all those little things."

  "For what, then?"

  "For you."

  The pause that ensued may be utilized for the admission that Pape wasnot as superior to curiosity as his stand would suggest. Indeed, he hadspeculated, so far as his intelligence and knowledge would take him,over the exact nature of the hidden hoard. He had heard of gold andjewels buried by eccentrics of little faith in modern banks and presumedthat something such was deposited in the missing crock. Once Jane hadsaid that the buried t
reasure was "bigger than Central Park itself."Just now she had declared the desperation of their hunt due to fear lesttheir enemies "destroy" it. Destroy what was bigger than Central Parkitself? She had added a new and confusing touch to the mystery.

  "I set out to give you the common or garden variety of service," heexplained his stand. "That's a kind that don't need to understand, thatdigs ditches and wages wars and wins women. Don't load me down withknowledge now. Let me go all the way to trail's-end--the crock--justtrusting that it will lead me to you."

  He bent that she should not miss his promising smile--twilight wasmixing with starlight by now.

  "Isn't faith best proved without words, dear?" he asked her. "If youhave any in me, this would seem a right good time to prove it. Ceaseworrying. Trust me. Rest. Isn't everything snug and _au fait_? You havemost everything you need--even a chaperone."

  "Meaning Kicko or that hoot-owl?"

  "Meaning granddad's spirit."

  "Oh ... all right ... I'll try."

  After a time----

  "Jane, tell the truth and shame the devil--don't you prefer me to thatwall?"

  "Why--why----"

  "Please prefer me."

  Perhaps his arm did more than his words to persuade her. At any rate,with her head resting against his shoulder, she made admission.

  "I do--prefer you to a stone wall, you know."

  "And aren't you going to prefer me to everybody and everything? I don'twish to seem to be making love to you, Miss Lauderdale--not just yet.You must admit that I have been very slow and steady."

  "Slow and steady--_you_?"

  "But it would help to get that settled now. Aren't you going to preferme, Jane?"

  "I am. That is, I do now--did in fact from that first night when Ipicked you out of a grand-tier of faces as the one man who----"

  "Wait a minute! You say _you_ selected _me_?"

  He took her by both shoulders; held her away from him; peered, startled,into her eyes.

  "Of course. But it was more instinct than reason that made me----"

  "Well, if _you_ selected _me_--" and he replaced that head of hers,veiled in soft, fragrant black, against the spot preferred to thewall--"_I'm_ helpless."

  "But not hopeless, I hope?"

  "Hopeless, when I've kissed you once and have hopes that--? Say, I wantto be slow and steady, to give you time to realize without being toldthat you're going to marry me. But if you self-selected me, JaneLauderdale, maybe you'll notify me as to the soonest possible momentwhen I'm due to kiss you again."

  She drew far enough away to peer into his eyes. Faint-smiling, yetwholly serious, she considered. Then----

  "Peter Pape, why not now?" she asked him.

  Pape had other reasons than the girl's weariness for persuading her totry for a snatch of the sleep she might need against possible strain onher nerve and endurance ahead. He wished to weigh--well, severalinteresting observations.

  For long after she had accepted his knee as a pillow, the rock floor asa bed, a live-fur rug for her feet and his coat for her coverlet, hepulled on his pipe; returned the dark scowl of the down-drooping night;thought. The while, out-loud observations which had seemed to soothePolkadot on that previous trip to the block-house recurred to him. Moreor less monotonously he crooned them over her like a lullaby.

  "Don't you hear the dog-wood yapping, dear?... Can't you just imaginethose old-fashioned pop-guns popping?... Nothing to break the silencessave the shriek of ten thousand auto sirens.... No one around butpeople--millions of 'em! Don't it make you think of a little old home inmy great new West, where we're to go one day--so like and yet sodifferent?... And Friend Equus is to go along, my heart, all the moreappreciative after his clash with the tame.... Yes, and you too, PolicePup--if Shepherd Tom can be persuaded to let you resign from the Force.He just may be willing after to-day's mis-delivered lunch.

  "Then list to the Nubian roar--much more like a lion it sounds than therumble of city streets.... List the whisper of poplars four--there wouldbe four, except that two have been white-circled into stumps.... Counteighteen--twelve.... Take heart and delve.... Above the crock the blockwill rock.... That block did rock--did rock--and rock----"

  He leaned low; listened. Jane's gentle, even breathing reported herasleep. He was more pleased than by any of the wonderful things she haddone while awake--even than by that voluntary kiss, so precious ascompared with her involuntary first. She did really trust him and restin his protectorate, else could she never have been lulled by hismurmurings into unconsciousness. She must indeed have been spent, whenthe growls and spasmodic foot work of the live fur rug did not disturbher. Kicko, evidently, had lapsed into dog dreams of chases and fights.

  The moon must be rising. Into the block-house was shed a weird, indirectlight. Then more and more direct it grew until, over the top of onewall, appeared a large, round inverted bowl of a candle-power thatdimmed the kilowatt signs along the Gay Way.

  Earlier in the evening, when he had spoken of waiting for darkness,under cover of which to attempt an escape afoot, Pape might havecomplained at the illumination of the sky. Now he beamed back at themoon. And his complacency waxed with her light, although he realizedthat bold young Dawn would be up to flirt with the pale night queen longbefore her departure; that any attempt to escape from the park would notbe blanketed that night.

  Let Luna reach the steps of her throne, he bade himself in thought, thateach corner of the old refuge house might be lighted. Let Jane have outher sleep--happy he to guard her gracious rest. Let the Nubian roar ofpower that was not leonine grow faint and die. Let the city and thecity's Finest go off guard.

  Time enough, then, to test application of the eccentric's cryptogram,copper-plated line by line, to a locality unsuspected by their enemiesand chosen by themselves quite through chance. Not a doubt shadowed hismind as he awaited the zero hour. The lines fitted, every one.

  "List' to the Nubian roar"--to the night noises of the surroundingmetropolitan monster, uncaged in Zoo, never-sleeping, ever-pacing.

  "And whisper of poplars four"--the branches of two staunch old rustlersamong the pines made silver lace of the moonlight just outside the wall.Doubtless the two that had been sentenced to death had been very muchalive at the time of the cryptogram's composition.

  "'Tis on a height"--where was one so high to the hoary-headed veteran asthis on which he delighted to raise his country's flag?

  "Eighteen and twelve will show"--Jane had named these very figures asthe date on the memorial tablet placed in the wall without. Not rods,not yards, not feet did they stand for, but a date.

  "Begin below"--and below was a block that rocked "as rocks wrong'soverthrow!"

  Not until the inverted bowl of the moon was a central ceiling light didWhy Not Pape move to answer the queer questions in his mind. Gently hethen lifted the coat-coverlet off the woman below; wrapped it into aroll; with it replaced the pillow of his knee. A low command he gave thepolice dog to lie still. Swiftly he crossed to the threshold stone,tilted it far enough to one side to assure himself it was a thin slaband muttered in a sort of ecstacy:

  "Count eighteen--twelve, Take heart and delve."

  His maximum of strength was required to turn the stone upon its back onthe floor of the block-house. Across the earth upon which it so long hadlain scurried the crawling things that thrive in under-rock dampness.Down on his knees dropped Pape and, with a slate-like fragment of rockwhich had broken off in the fall, began to remove the soft soil. Soonthe emergency implement met obstruction. No longer needing advice to"take heart," he cast aside the slate and began scooping out the eartharound this object with bare hands.

  A heavy touch upon his arm shocked him into an over-shoulder glance. TheBelgian stood bristling just behind him; had tapped him with a pawinsistent for a share in the digging job. Willingly enough Pape acceptedhis efficient aid down to the top of an earthen pot of the Boston beanvariety. More excited than in past hunts for seldom-found gold pocketsof his early prospecting days,
the Westerner pushed aside the dog;worked his two nail-torn hands down and down the smooth-curved sides.With a slow tug, he lifted what he could no longer doubt was the crockof the crypt. Reverently as though he were an acolyte bearing some holyvessel to an altar, he carried it across the room and placed it at thefeet of the low-seated high-priestess drawn up against the wall.

  "Am I dreaming?" she wondered aloud.

  "Am I?" he answered by asking. "Or do I see a tall, strong old man, witha shock of white hair and a laugh on his lips, raising a flag on yonderpole?"

  He removed the lid and she the contents of that crock of "fortuneforevermore."

  And thus was fulfilled one of the wild Westerner's wishes--that heshould not know until he had found the object of his search. Thus,through deeds and not words, he learned the nature of GranddadLauderdale's buried hoard.

  No helping of "a thousand on a plate," as doughboy might have expected,did Jane serve from the pot. No stream of gold fell through her fingers,to puddle between them on the stone-flagged floor. No packets ofbank-notes crinkled in her grasp. No king's-ransom jewels blinked in thenight-light after their long interment. Yet was the girl's predictionproved true that he scarcely could believe at first the nature of theirfind. Stupidly he stared. Only slowly could his mind, face its surpriseand its enormity.

  CHAPTER XXVII--"FORTUNE FOREVERMORE"

  At ten o'clock next morning a taxicab carrying three fares drew out ofthe Fifth Avenue "pass" and stopped before the Sturgis house. A womanand one of the men alighted. The second remained seated, his waitingrole evidently prearranged, as the pair did not so much as nod back athim. Ascending the stone flight, they rang the front bell, as strangersmight. In due time the door swung open.

  "Miss Jane--thank Heaven you're alive and back again!" Jasper'sexclamation was fervent beyond all rules of butlership. "Mr. Pape, goodmorning, sir. Your arrival is timely, too. They have been telephoning inall directions to locate you. Such excitement, Miss Jane, as we've beensuffering!"

  "_They_, Jasper?" The girl faced about in the vestibule.

  "The madame, Mrs. Sturgis, and Judge Allen. He has had a fall and brokenhis shoulder, we fear. Mr. Harford, also, was in some sort of accident.An automobile struck him, I believe."

  "Accidents all round, eh?" Pape enquired. "Ain't that odd?"

  "Indeed, yes, sir--odd and unfortunate."

  Distressed as he looked, Jasper might have joined in the exchanged smileof the younger pair, had he known how fortuitous, if odd, was thisgathering of those persons concerned in the pending crock's-bottomsettlement. Indeed, since the lid had been lifted from the bean pot offabulous store, circumstances had worked with them.

  Their exit from the block-house and the park had been shared with thatof the many young couples driven from Eden at the strokes of midnight.With the crock between them wrapped in Pape's coat, they had saunteredout Pioneers Gate unmolested by the law so lately hot at their heels.Straight to the yellow brick on East Sixty-third they had whirredthemselves and their find; had seen triumph complete in a pair ofoutward-blinded eyes which could reflect glad sights from within.

  Only an hour off after breakfast did Pape ask for the rescue of hisequine pal from the granite-spiked corral that flanks the mid-parkstables. This was effected by a ransom payment insignificant as comparedwith the paint-pony's joy. He was then ready for the business of thisfirst day of real togethership with his self-selected--she whoadmittedly herself had selected him.

  Of the quartette in the luxurious living-room upstairs, Irene Sturgiswas the first to exclaim their unannounced entry.

  "Jane--and still with _him_--the impossible person!"

  The histrionic horror in her voice brought Mills Harford to his feet;contrary-wise, sank Mrs. Sturgis into the depths of a wing-chair; brokeup the council of war under way beside the couch on which lay thewounded little judge.

  "Good morning, one and all!"

  The cheer of Jane's greeting was not reflected in the faces of thoseaddressed.

  "We hardly hoped to find you bunched up and waiting for us like this,"Pape added with something of a flourish. "Saves sending for you."

  The matron straightened on the edge of her chair and, with a preciseexpression, inspected first him, then her niece. "You two spent thenight together, I assume?"

  "Most of it, auntie, at a spiritualistic seance in Central Park."

  Pape chuckled. "The most inspiring I ever attended."

  "_Jane_--and you the girl I counted on as so reliable! My Irene issteady by contrast. You pretend to go visiting friends and only let usknow your whereabouts when you get arrested. One night in a policestation-house and the next--I presume--at least, I _hope_, for all oursakes, that you thought to marry this--this young man before bringinghim here."

  "Marry, mother--that _brute_?" Irene slithered from her seat on the armof the chair recently vacated by the handsome real-estater. Throwingherself upon her cousin's neck with a freshet of real tears, she wailed:"Oh, my poor dar-rling--our _poor_ old Janie! No matter what yourmistakes, you are more to be pitied than punished. Don't lay your neckon the altar of matrimony for this outlaw. I am sure there's a good manand true somewhere in the world for you, even though he does seem a longtime showing up. Don't be overcome by this Wild West stuff. _I_ knowfull well that he has his fatal fascinations. _I_ was once but a birdheld in his snake-like spell, until my Harfy saved me from the high seasof his tyranny and the burning blast of his----"

  "Enough, Rene. Loose me. You'll drown me with brine if you don't smotherme first," begged the object of her anxiety.

  The more Jane struggled, however, the tighter did the bob-haired cousincling.

  "But, you poor thing, I know he'll turn on you one day and beat you up!You saw how he treated my Harfy--a man and his superior in everyway--how he rained blow after blow on his priceless pate. What_wouldn't_ he do to a weak woman in his power? Don't you go and getdesperate just because--Luck in love always seems to run my way, don'tyou think so--or do you? Harfy was so nice-nice when he was coming toand so suppressed. I _dote_ on suppression. Do you--or don't you? Hejust gazed at me with all his _soul_ when I asked the question I knew hewas too used up to ask me. And we're going to have the biggest churchwedding of any girl in my set, with all the trimmings, just as soon asmother can manage it. Aren't we, dar-rling?"

  "It seems--that we are."

  In the admission, her challenged fiance looked neither into the blackeyes of his perquisitory young lady of to-day nor the blue ones of herupon whom he had pressed his heart and hand on every available occasionin their near past. His expression was that of one who acknowledgeshimself vanquished--and by a victor fairer than the fight.

  "Since, madame, you approve and even urge my suit for your niece'shand"--and Pape frowned deeply before the disdainful matron--"I'll goone better than Harfy by admitting without being told to that I haveassented. Although we aren't married yet-yet, Irene, we're going to beright soon-soon. That was as unalterable from the first as the laws ofgravity--or of levity. By way of trimmings, we have a score or two tosettle first with three of you folks, which is why we came."

  "Ah!"

  The pudgy jurist had risen painfully on one elbow and now sent thewarning word in company with a look--same sort--Mrs. Sturgis' way.

  "Thank God we are not too late, Helen," he added after athroat-clearance, "to save dear Jane from this schemer. As I hoped, theformalities of our marriage law have not been complied with. This leavesyou free to act as the foolish girl's nearest of kin. It will be easy tosecure an order from one of my friends at court restraining her furtheractivities by committing her into your care."

  "It will take more than an order from such friends at court as you willhave after to-day to restrain Jane," Pape suggested pleasantly.

  "Clearly she has acted under undue influence from you so far, youngman," Allen continued with impressment. "Were you half as clever asconspicuous you'd have got the ceremony over before coming here tothreaten her family. As the husband of an orphaned yo
ung woman you mighthave had something to say, but----"

  "Orphaned?"

  With the interruption Pape crossed to one of the Fifth Avenue windowsand there busied himself with a quite unnecessary readjustment of theshade.

  The lady of the house was apparently too disturbed to resent this newimpertinence.

  "You know how I dread the courts, Samuel. Let me first try suasion." Inemotionful appeal she turned to Jane. "For sake of the dear, dead sisterwho was your mother, I beg you, as one who has tried to take a mother'splace, to give up this ill-timed attack of folly and this impossibleman. Perhaps you inherited the tendency, for she also made a sad mistakein choosing her mate."

  "She did?" the "orphan" asked quietly, her eyes on the velvet hangingsof the hall door.

  "In marrying a Lauderdale--practically a pauper despite the familyobsession of their claim to vast estates in the Borough of theBronx--she ruined her life. She, too, became obsessed through his powerto control her thoughts. Her life, as well as his, was one longnightmare of crown-grants, wills, deeds, what-nots. She died of it,dear, just as your father afterwards went down under disgrace and gloom.Now you, child, stain your white hands with this black magic. Excited bythe craze for adventure of this person, you let yourself be led intoindiscretions that bid fair to ruin you. Why not give him up now--thismorning? I'll stand by you no matter what is said."

  "Me, too, dar-rling," chimed in Irene. "I'll soon be a matron, you know,and I'll find you some adequate male, up-to-date though honest, whomwe'll persuade to forget and forgive."

  Aunt Helene, her breath regained, pleaded further: "Listen to thisbefore you leap, my child. Despite what your grandfather left in the wayof puzzle-charts, Judge Allen and I, acting in your interest, have atlast satisfied ourselves that there is nothing--quite nothing of theslightest material value to you buried in Central Park. We didn't intendto tell you so soon, but all last night the judge had a crew of menworking at a spot indicated in the cryptogram."

  "And how did he get the instructions of the cryptogram?" Jane enquired."No one saw it before it was stolen but me."

  "_Jane_, that you should speak to me in that suspicious tone! Had I beengiven opportunity, I should have told you that yesterday the contents ofyour antique snuff-box were secretly exchanged for the large rewardwhich I offered in your name, presumedly by the thief who stole it frommy safe."

  "You don't say, ma'am? So! It was, eh?" The Westerner was ratherexplosive from acute interest.

  The matron ignored him. "The judge, Jane, followed directions anddiscovered a crock--large and open topped, like the sort dill picklesare made in. But, alas, it contained nothing but a half-witted old man'skeepsakes--scraps of his unutterable poetry, ribbon-tied parcels ofyellowed love-letters, pressed flowers and a wisp of some woman's hair.Were your father alive, I'd feel I should take some of my own fortuneand make restitution of his frauds upon the collateral heirs. But sincehe's dead and gone, I don't exactly feel----"

  "Not altogether gone, Helene, yet not in need of your restitution!"

  At the voice, Mrs. Sturgis smothered a scream; turned; stared.

  Through the portieres that closed off the hall stepped CurtisLauderdale, led from the taxi by the driver thereof in answer to Pape'ssignal from the window.

  Verily an apparition did he look to the four who had accepted the reportof his death. Mrs. Sturgis, with hands grasping behind her, was backingas though from a ghost. The little jurist did not move, but all theapple color had departed his cheeks. Irene's red-rouged lips could notpale, but at least her mouth was agape. Harford stiffened, as thoughpreparing for attack.

  One on either side, Jane and Pape crossed to the latecomer and lined upthe triumvirate. Accurately the blind eyes fixed on Allen. In directaddress the long unheard lips began to speak.

  "We meet again, Sam, my trusted counsellor and cherished friend. Withyour mask torn off, you look more changed to me than I possibly can toyou. Oh, don't waste time with denials! I'd need to be blinder thanmustard gas could make me not to see you as you are. For years youtraded upon the gullibility of my father. You persuaded him that fortunewould build bigger and faster if he withheld proof of title to our Bronxestates and let the Guarantee Investors develop a property that hasbelonged to the Lauderdales since the grant of King James. You overcamehis needs and his children's needs with false promises of rich rewardwhen he eventually would claim the improved acreage. And after lettinghim die in half-crazed poverty, with his mysterious instructions unfoundand our title proofs buried with them, you advised me to raise moneyfrom the collateral heirs and institute a court fight to establish ourrights. And it was you, I feel sure, who brought these heirs before theGrand Jury that indicted me for fraud just after I had sailed forSomewhere in France."

  A moment Lauderdale paused in the controlled fury of his accusation,brushed a hand across his eye-lids and moistened his lips.

  "But the crookedest lane has its end, Sam Allen. My chief treasure youcould not take from me--a glorious girl child born to retribution. Toher aid came this real-man sample from out the West. Working togetherthey have recovered every necessary document, even to my parent's lastwill and testament. We are ready and able now to right the most grievouswrong ever perpetrated in the medium of New York real estate--to forceyour company to turn over a thousand acres in the heart of the Bronx andto make restitution, under your guarantee, to innocent purchasers, evenif it breaks you as you would have broken----"

  He was stopped by the grasp which Pape had put on his arm.

  "Don't dump all the onus on the judge, Mr. Lauderdale," he advised. "Wemustn't forget that he is a lawyer, hence full of wriggles. Best leavehis punishment to me and that more easily proved charge of the MontanaGusher oil-stock fraud. There is one among those present, to approachthe subject guardedly, who is more directly responsible for the Bronxrealty steal than His Honor."

  Even Jane, close as she had been to the queer questioner throughoutrecent developments, was startled by his statement. What sort of a lonehand was he playing?

  Allen's pudgy palms clasped. Aunt Helene eyed one, then another of thegroup, as though bewildered.

  Only Pape's gaze did not wander. It turned from the blind man's face tofix upon that of Mills Harford. At the silent accusation, Irene sprangtoward him, no longer a kitten, but a flare-eyed mother-cat in defenseof her own.

  "Don't you dare accuse my Harfy, you cave-brute!" she cried. "Justbecause he makes _money_ out of real-estate isn't any reason to jump atthe _conclusion_ that he----"

  "Right, Rene." Pape had a sympathetic grin for her vehemence. "I wasonly considering your Harfy as a possible witness to the truth. Cross myheart, I ain't got a thing against him personally, now that he hasconsented to take you instead of----"

  "You horrid, hateful thing!" she screamed. "What do you _mean_ by'consented to'----"

  "Stand corrected, miss, soon to be madame. Now that you have consentedto take him instead of aspiring to me."

  "Beast! However could I have thought you nice-nice?"

  "Can't say, unless it is that I am--sometimes."

  Jane broke up their sprightly exchange with the serious demand: "But thesome one more directly responsible?"

  "Be done with innuendo, young man!" Mrs. Sturgis rose to her feet, withevery inch of her scant height counting. "A gentleman--one of whom wesay 'to the manner born'--makes no accusation without proof."

  "I don't need to make accusation or present proof to you, madam."

  "You're not trying to insinuate----"

  Many lights had Pape seen in women's eyes, but never one as startled,angry and afraid as that flashed him by Aunt Helene. Next moment sheattempted a light laugh that ended with a nervous crescendo.

  "You, too, must be mad."

  "At least that," he admitted cheerfully. "You've known why for severalminutes past. You acknowledge the judge here as your advisor, don'tyou?"

  "I certainly do."

  "Better ask his advice, then, without further delay. I've an idea he'lltell you
to come across clean--admit that you are The GuaranteeInvestors, Incorporated, who have been trying to grab off theLauderdales' Bronx ranch and put Jane here out of the heiress class.Come, madam! Any woman who can rob her own safe and give the alarm andplay-act the grief of a whole wake afterwards certainly ought to get agreat deal out of a confession scene. Suppose you take yourfamily-friend tool and your in-law-to-be into the library for aconference. Just possibly I--the outlaw-that-was--can show Mr. and MissLauderdale reasons why they should listen to a plea for mercy."

  Before Pape had finished, the small jurist was on his feet in acceptanceof the suggestion. The wilt of guilt drooped the matron into the arms ofher child. As one woman they were supported toward the door by MillsHarford.

  "It was all my poor husband's idea, not my own," Aunt Helene was heardto defend to an interlude of sobs. "And with him, as with me, it was allbecause we did so want our poor Irene to have the fortune her beautydeserves. We knew how impractical the Lauderdales were. He didn'tbelieve they ever could make good their claim to the Bronx estate. Weboth thought it would be better for our own dear child to have it thansome outsider. When he realized that he couldn't live to see the planthrough he charged me to carry it out. Of course I meant to make properprovision for Jane if----"

  The door closed behind them.

  When the triumvirate stood alone, low-voiced and happier exchangespassed.

  "How did you know, son?"

  "Didn't know. Aunt Helene seemed too good to be true, so I just stayedon a busted flush and finished a winner. Why not?"

  "Why not, indeed?" Jane showed sufficient knowledge of the game to payover what was due the taker of the pot.

  "Welcomed at last to Lonesome Town--welcomed with open arms!" exulted hewho so recently had had to welcome himself.

  ----

  And that very night Broadway saw new reason to believe in its signs. Outover Times Canon winked a re-lettered electric message that lit theimagination as does every such happy ending and happier start:

  CONGRATULATIONS MR. AND MRS. WHY-NOT PAPE

  THE END