VII
THE INVISIBLE WIRE
_In Which the Telephone Continues Ringing_
When he had finished writing he sorted out some silver, and handed it andthe yellow paper to Sacharissa.
"It's dark in here. Would you mind reading it aloud to me to see if I'vemade it plain?" he asked.
"Certainly," said Sacharissa; and she read:
MRS. DELANCY COURLAND,
Tuxedo.
I'm stuck in an idiotic elevator at 1008-1/2 Fifth Avenue. If I don'tappear by New Year's you'll know why. Be careful that no reporters gethold of this.
KILLIAN VAN K. VANDERDYNK.
Sacharissa flushed deeply. "I can't send this," she said.
"Why not?" demanded the young man, irritably.
"Because, Mr. Vanderdynk, my father, brother-in-law, married sister, andthree younger sisters are expected at the Courlands'. Imagine what effectsuch a telegram would have on them!"
"Then cross out the street and number," he said; "just say I'm stuck in astrange elevator."
She did so, rang, and a servant took away the telegram.
"Now," said the heir apparent to the Prince Regency of Manhattan, "thereare two things still" possible. First, you might ring up policeheadquarters and ask for aid; next, request assistance from fireheadquarters."
"If I do," she said, "wouldn't the newspapers get hold of it?"
"You are perfectly right," he said.
She had now drawn her chair so close to the gilded grille that, handsresting upon it, she could look down into the car where sat the scion ofthe Vanderdynks on a flimsy Louis XV chair.
"I can't express to you how sorry I am," she said. "Is there anything Ican do to--to ameliorate your imprisonment?"
He looked at her in a bewildered way.
"You don't expect me to remain here until after New Year's, do you?" heinquired.
"I don't see how you can avoid it. Nobody seems to want to work untilafter New Year's."
"Stay in a cage--two days and a night!"
"Perhaps I had better call up the police."
"No, no! Wait. I'll tell you what to do. Start that man, Ferdinand, on atour of the city. If he hunts hard enough and long enough he'll find someplumber or locksmith or somebody who'll come."
She rang for Ferdinand; together they instructed him, and he went away,promising to bring salvation in some shape.
Which promise made the young man more cheerful and smoothed out theworried pucker between Sacharissa's straight brows.
"I suppose," she said, "that you will never forgive my maid for this--orme either."
He laughed. "After all," he admitted, "it's rather funny."
"I don't believe you think it's funny."
"Yes, I do."
"Didn't you want to go to Tuxedo?"
"I!" He looked up at the pretty countenance of Sacharissa. "I _did_ wantto--a few minutes ago."
"And now that you can't your philosophy teaches you that you _don't_ wantto?"
They laughed at each other in friendly fashion.
"Perhaps it's my philosophy," he said, "but" I really don't care verymuch.... I'm not sure that I care at all.... In fact, now that I think ofit, why should I have wished to go to Tuxedo? It's stupid to want to goto Tuxedo when New York is so attractive."
"Do you know," she said reflectively, "that I came to the sameconclusion?"
"When?"
"This morning."
"Be-before you--I----"
"Oh, yes," she said rather hastily, "before you came----"
She broke off, pink with consternation. What a ridiculous thing to say!What on earth was twisting her tongue to hint at such an absurdity?
She said, gravely, with heightened color: "I was standing by the windowthis morning, thinking, and it occurred to me that I didn't care to go toTuxedo.... When did you change _your_ mind?"
"A few minutes a--that is--well, I never _really_ wanted to go. It'sjollier in town. Don't you think so? Blue sky, snow--er--and all that?"
"Yes," she said, "it is perfectly delightful in town to-day."
He assented, then looked discouraged.
"Perhaps you would like to go out?" he said.
"I? Oh, no.... The sun on the snow is bad for one's eyes; don't you thinkso?"
"Very.... I'm terribly sorry that I'm giving you so much trouble."
"I don't mind--really. If only I could do something for you."
"You are."
"I?"
"Yes; you are being exceedingly nice to me. I am afraid you feel underobligations to remain indoors and----"
"Truly, I don't. I was not going out."
She leaned nearer and looked through the bars: "Are you quite sure youfeel comfortable?"
"I feel like something in a zoo!"
She laughed. "That reminds me," she said, "have you had any luncheon?"
He had not, it appeared, after a little polite protestation, so she rangfor Sparks.
Her own appetite, too, had returned when the tray was brought; napkin andplate were passed through the grille to him, and, as they lunched, he inhis cage, she close to the bars, they fell into conversation, exchanginginformation concerning mutual acquaintances whom they had expected tomeet at the Delancy Courlands'.
"So you see," she said, "that if I had not changed my mind about going toTuxedo this morning you would not be here now. Nor I.... And we wouldnever have--lunched together."
"That didn't alter things," he said, smiling. "If you hadn't been ill youwould have gone to Tuxedo, and I should have seen you there."
"Then, whatever I did made no difference," she assented, thoughtfully,"for we were bound to meet, anyway."
He remained standing close to the grille, which, as she was seated,brought his head on a level with hers.
"It would seem," he said laughingly, "as though we were doomed to meeteach other, anyway. It looks like a case of Destiny to me."
She started slightly: "What did you say?"
"I said that it looks as though Fate intended us to meet, anyhow. Don'tyou think so?"
She remained silent.
He added cheerfully: "I never was afraid of Fate."
"Would you care for a--a book--or anything?" she asked, aware of a newconstraint in her voice.
"I don't believe I could see to read in here.... Are you--going?"
"I--ought to." Vexed at the feeble senselessness of her reply she foundherself walking down the landing, toward nowhere in particular. Sheturned abruptly and came back.
"Do you want a book?" she repeated.
"Oh, I forgot that you can't see to read. But perhaps you might care tosmoke."
"Are you going away?"
"I--don't mind your smoking."
He lighted a cigarette; she looked at him irresolutely.
"You mustn't think of remaining," he said. Whereupon she seated herself.
"I suppose I ought to try to amuse you--till Ferdinand returns with aplumber," she said.
He protested: "I couldn't think of asking so much from you."
"Anyway, it's my duty," she insisted. "I ought."
"Why?"
"Because you are under my roof--a guest."
"Please don't think----"
"But I really don't mind! If there is anything I can do to make yourimprisonment easier----"
"It is easy. I rather like being here."
"It is very amiable of you to say so."
"I really mean it."
"How can you _really_ mean it?"
"I don't know, but I do." In their earnestness they had come close to thebars; she stood with both hands resting on the grille, looking in; he ina similar position, looking out.
He said: "I feel like an occupant of the Bronx, and it rather astonishesme that you haven't thrown me in a few peanuts."
She laughed, fetched her box of chocolates, then began seriously: "IfFerdinand doesn't find anybody I'm afraid you might be obliged to remainto dinner."
"That prospect," he said, "is not unpleasant. You
know when one becomesaccustomed to one's cage it's rather a bore to be let out."
They sampled the chocolates, she sitting close to the cage, and as thebox would not go through the bars she was obliged to hand them to him,one by one.
"I wonder," she mused, "how soon Ferdinand will find a plumber?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
She bent her adorable head, chose a chocolate and offered it to him.
"Are you not terribly impatient?" she inquired]
"Are you not terribly impatient?" she inquired.
"Not--terribly."
Their glances encountered and she said hurriedly:
"I am sure you must be perfectly furious with everybody in this house.I--I think it is most amiable of you to behave so cheerfully about it."
"As a matter of fact," he said, "I'm feeling about as cheerful as I everfelt in my life."
"Cooped up in a cage?"
"Exactly."
"Which may fall at any--" The idea was a new one to them both. She leanedforward in sudden consternation. "I never thought of that!" sheexclaimed. "You don't think there's any chance of its falling, do you?"
He looked at the startled, gray eyes so earnestly fixed on his. The sweetmouth quivered a little--just a little--or he thought it did.
"No," he replied, with a slight catch in his voice, "I don't believe it'sgoing to fall."
"Perhaps you had better not move around very much in it. Be careful, Ibeg of you. You will, won't you, Mr. Vanderdynk?"
"Please don't let it bother you," he said, stepping toward herimpulsively.
"Oh, don't, don't move!" she exclaimed. "You really must keep perfectlystill. Won't you promise me you will keep perfectly still?"
"I'll promise you anything," he said a little wildly.
Neither seemed to notice that he had overdone it.
She drew her chair as close as it would go to the grille and leanedagainst it.
"You _will_ keep up your courage, won't you?" she asked anxiously.
"Certainly. By the way, how far is it to the b-basement?"
She turned quite white for an instant, then:
"I think I'd better go and ring up the police."
"No! A thousand times no! I couldn't stand that."
"But the car might--drop before----"
"Better decently dead than publicly paragraphed.... I haven't the leastidea that this thing is going to drop.... Anyway, it's worth it," headded, rather vaguely.
"Worth--what?" she asked, looking into his rather winning, brown eyes.
"Being here," he said, looking into her engaging gray ones.
After a startling silence she said calmly: "Will you promise me not tomove or shake the car till I return?"
"You won't be very long, will you?"
"Not--very," she replied faintly.
She walked into the library, halted in the center of the room, handsclasped behind her. Her heart was beating like a trip hammer.
"I might as well face it," she said to herself; "he is--by far--the mostthoroughly attractive man I have ever seen.... I--I _don't_ know what'sthe matter," she added piteously.... "if it's that machine William made Ican't help it; I don't care any longer; I wish----"
A sharp crack from the landing sent her out there in a hurry, pale andfrightened.
"Something snapped somewhere," explained the young man with forcedcarelessness, "some unimportant splinter gave way and the thing slid downan inch or two."
"D-do you think----"
"No, I don't. But it's perfectly fine of you to care."
"C-care? I'm a little frightened, of course.... Anybody would be.... Oh,I wish you were out and p-perfectly safe." "If I thought you could everreally care what became of a man like me----"
Killian Van K. Vanderdynk's aristocratic senses began gyrating; hegrasped the bars, the back of his hand brushed against hers, and themomentary contact sent a shock straight through the scion of thatcelebrated race.
She seated herself abruptly; a delicate color grew, staining her face.
Neither spoke. A long, luminous sunbeam fell across the landing, touchingthe edge of her hair till it glimmered like bronze afire. The sensitivemouth was quiet, the eyes, very serious, were lifted from time to time,then lowered, thoughtfully, to the clasped fingers on her knee.
Could it be possible? How could it be possible?--with a man she had neverbefore chanced to meet--with a man she had seen for the first time in herlife only an hour or so ago! Such things didn't happen outside of shortstories. There was neither logic nor common decency in it. Had she or hadshe not any ordinary sense remaining?
She raised her eyes and looked at the heir of the Vanderdynks.
Of course anybody could see he was unusually attractive--that he had thatindefinable something about him which is seldom, if ever, seen outside offiction or of Mr. Gibson's drawings--perhaps it is entirely confined tothem--except in this one very rare case.
Sacharissa's eyes fell.
Another unusual circumstance was engaging her attention, namely, that hisrather remarkable physical perfection appeared to be matched by abreeding quite as faultless, and a sublimity of courage in the face ofdestruction itself, which----
Sacharissa lifted her gray eyes.
There he stood, suspended over an abyss, smoking a cigarette, bravelyforcing himself to an attitude of serene insouciance, while the basementyawned for him! Machine or no machine, how could any girl look upon suchmiraculous self-control unmoved? _She_ could not. It was natural that awoman should be deeply thrilled by such a spectacle--and William Destyn'smachine had nothing to do with it--not a thing! Neither had psychology,nor demonology, nor anything, with wires or wireless. She liked him,frankly. Who wouldn't? She feared for him, desperately. Who wouldn't?She----
"C-r-rack!"
"Oh--_what_ is it!" she cried, springing to the grille.
"I don't know," he said, somewhat pale. "The old thing seems--to besliding."
"Giving way!"
"A--little--I think----"
"Mr. Vanderdynk! I _must_ call the police----"
"Cr-rackle--crack-k-k!" went the car, dropping an inch or two.
With a stifled cry she caught his hands through the bars, as though tohold him by main strength.
"Are you crazy?" he said fiercely, thrusting them away. "Be careful! Ifthe thing drops you'll break your arms!"
"I--I don't care!" she said breathlessly. "I can't let----"
"Crack!" But the car stuck again.
"I _will_ call the police!" she cried.
"The papers may make fun of _you_."
"Was it for _me_ you were afraid? Oh, Mr. Vanderdynk! What do I care forridicule compared to--to----"
The car had sunk so far in the shaft now that she had to kneel and puther head close to the floor to see him.
"I will only be a minute at the telephone," she said. "Keep up courage; Iam thinking of you every moment."
"W-will you let me say one word?" he stammered.
"Oh, what? Be quick, I beg you."
"It's only goodbye--in case the thing drops. May I say it?"
"Y-yes--yes! But say it quickly."
"And if it doesn't drop after all, you won't be angry at what I'm goingto say?"
"N-no. Oh, for Heaven's sake, hurry!"
"Then--you are the sweetest woman in the world!... Goodbye--Sacharissa--dear."
She sprang up, dazed, and at the same moment a terrific crackling andsplintering resounded from the shaft, and the car sank out of sight.
Faint, she swayed for a second against the balustrade, then turned andran downstairs, ears strained for the sickening crash from below.
There was no crash, no thud. As she reached the drawing-room landing, toher amazement a normally-lighted elevator slid slowly down, came to astop, and the automatic grilles opened quietly.
As Killian Van K. Vanderdynk crept forth from the elevator, Sacharissa'snerves gave way; his, also, seemed to disintegrate; and they stood forsome moments mutually supporting each other
, during which intervalunaccustomed tears fell from the gray eyes, and unaccustomed words,breathed brokenly, reassured her; and, altogether unaccustomed to suchthings, they presently found themselves seated in a distant corner of thedrawing-room, still endeavoring to reassure each other with interclaspedhands.
They said nothing so persistently that the wordless minutes throbbed intohours; through the windows the red west sent a glowing tentacle into theroom, searching the gloom for them.
It fell, warm, across her upturned throat, in the half light.
For her head lay back on his shoulder; his head was bent down, lipspressed to the white hands crushed fragrantly between his own.
A star came out and looked at them with astonishment; in a little whilethe sky was thronged with little stars, all looking through the window atthem.
Her maid knocked, backed out hastily and fled, distracted. Then Ferdinandarrived with a plumber.
Later the butler came. They did not notice him until he ventured to coughand announce dinner.
The interruptions were very annoying, particularly when she was summonedto the telephone to speak to her father.
"What is it, dad?" she asked impatiently.
"Are you all right?"
"Oh, yes," she answered, carelessly; "we are all right, dad. Goodbye."
"We? Who the devil is 'We'?"
"Mr. Vanderdynk and I. We're taking my maid and coming down to Tuxedothis evening together. I'm in a hurry now."
"What!!!"
"Oh, it's all right, dad. Here, Killian, please explain things to myfather."
Vanderdynk released her hand and picked up the receiver as though it hadbeen a live wire.
"Is that you, Mr. Carr?" he began--stopped short, and stood listening,rigid, bewildered, turning redder and redder as her father's fluencyincreased. Then, without a word, he hooked up the receiver.
"Is it all right?" she asked calmly. "Was dad--vivacious?"
The young man said: "I'd rather go back into that elevator than go toTuxedo.... But--I'm going."
"So am I," said Bushwyck Carr's daughter, dropping both hands on herlover's shoulders.... "Was he really very--vivid?"
"Very."
The telephone again rang furiously.
He bent his head; she lifted her face and he kissed her.
After a while the racket of the telephone annoyed them, and they slowlymoved away out of hearing.
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