CHAPTER XVII
A NIGHT MARCH
Arkwright saw no one but his valet-masseur for several days; on the leftside of his throat the marks of Craig's fingers showed even above thetallest of his extremely tall collars. From the newspapers he gatheredthat Margaret had gone to New York on a shopping trip--had gone for astay of two or three weeks. When the adventure in the garden was morethan a week into the past, as he was coming home from a dinner towardmidnight he jumped from his electric brougham into Craig's arms.
"At last!" exclaimed Josh, leading the way up the Arkwright steps andringing the bell. Grant muttered a curse under his breath. When the manhad opened the door, "Come in," continued Josh loudly and cheerily,leading the way into the house.
"You'd think it was his house, by gad!" muttered Grant.
"I've been walking up and down before the entrance for an hour. Thebutler asked me in, but I hate walls and roof. The open for me--thewide, wide open!"
"Not so loud," growled Arkwright. "The family's in bed. Wait till we getto my part of the house."
When they were there, with doors closed and the lights on, Craig exhaledhis breath as noisily as a blown swimmer. "What a day! What a day!" hehalf-shouted, dropping on the divan and thrusting his feet into the richand rather light upholstery of a near-by chair.
Grant eyed the feet gloomily. He was proud of his furniture and ascareful of it as any old maid.
"Go ahead, change your clothes," cried Josh. "I told your motorman notto go away."
"What do you mean?" Arkwright demanded, his temper boiling at the rim ofthe pot.
"I told him before you got out. You see, we're going to New Yorkto-night--or rather this morning. Train starts at one o'clock. I met oldRoebuck at the White House to-night--found he was going by specialtrain--asked him to take us."
"Not I," said Arkwright. "No New York for me. I'm busy to-morrow.Besides, I don't want to go."
"Of course you don't," laughed Craig, and Arkwright now noted that hewas in the kind of dizzy spirits that most men can get only by drinkinga very great deal indeed. "Of course you don't. No more do I. But I'vegot to go--and so have you."
"What for?"
"To help me get married."
Grant could only gape at him.
"Don't you know Margaret has gone to New York?"
"I saw it in the paper, but--"
"Now, don't go back a week to ancient history."
"I don't believe it," foamed Grant, so distracted that he sprang up andpaced the floor, making wild gestures with his arms and head.
Craig watched, seemed hugely amused. "You'll see, about noon to-morrow.You've got to put in the morning shopping for me. I haven't got--Youknow what sort of a wardrobe mine is. Wardrobe? Hand satchel!Carpet-bag! Rag-bag! If I took off my shoes you'd see half the toes ofone foot and all the heel of the other. And only my necktie holds thiscollar in place. Both buttonholes are gone. As for my underclothes--butI'll spare you these."
"Yes, do," said Grant with a vicious sneer.
"Now, you've got to buy me a complete outfit." Craig drew a roll ofbills from his pocket, counted off several, threw them on the table."There's four hundred dollars, all I can afford to waste at present.Make it go as far as you can. Get a few first-class things, the restdecent and substantial, but not showy. I'll pay for the suits I've gotto get. They'll have to be ready-made--and very good ready-made ones aman can buy nowadays. We'll go to the tailor's first thing--about seveno'clock in the morning, which'll give him plenty of time foralterations."
"I won't!" exploded Grant, stopping his restless pacing and slamminghimself on to a chair.
"Oh, yes, you will," asserted Craig, with absolute confidence. "You'renot going back on me."
"There's nothing in this--nothing! I've known Rita Severence nearlytwenty years, and I know she's done with you."
Craig sprang to his feet, went over and laid his heavy hand heavily uponArkwright's shoulder. "And," said he, "you know me. Did I ever say athing that didn't prove to be true, no matter how improbable it seemedto you?"
Arkwright was silent.
"Grant," Craig went on, and his voice was gentle and moving, "I needyou. I must have you. You won't fail me, will you, old pal?"
"Oh, hell!--I'll go," said Grant in a much-softened growl. "But I knowit's a wild-goose chase. Still, you do need the clothes. You're aperfect disgrace."
Craig took away his hand and burst into his noisy, boyish laughter, soreminiscent of things rural and boorish, of the coarse, strong spiritsof the happy-go-lucky, irresponsibles that work as field hands andwood-haulers. "By cracky, Grant, I just got sight of the remnants ofthat dig I gave you. It was a beauty, wasn't it?"
Arkwright moved uneasily, fumbled at his collar, tried to smilecarelessly.
"I certainly am the luckiest devil," Craig went on. "Now, what a strokepushing you over and throttling you was!" And he again laughed loudly.
"I don't follow you," said Grant sourly.
"What a vanity box you are! You can't take a joke. Now, they're alwayspoking fun at me--pretty damn nasty! some of it--but don't I always lookcheerful?"
"Oh--YOU!" exclaimed Grant in disgust.
"And do you know why?" demanded Craig, giving him a rousing slap on theknee. "When I find it hard to laugh I begin to think of the greatestjoke of all--the joke I'll have on these merry boys when the cards areall played and I sweep the tables. I think of that, and, by gosh, Ifairly roar!"
"Do you talk that way to convince yourself?"
Craig's eyes were suddenly shrewd. "Yes," said he, "and to convince you,and a lot of other weak-minded people who believe all they hear. You'llfind out some day that the world thinks with its ears and its mouth, myboy. But, as I say, who but I could have tumbled into such luck as camequite accidentally out of that little 'rough-house' of mine at yourexpense?"
"Don't see it," said Grant.
"Why, can't you see that it puts you out of business with Margaret?She's not the sort of woman to take to the fellow that shows he's theweaker."
"Well, I'll be--damned!" gasped Arkwright. "You HAVE got your nerve! Tosay such a thing to a man you've just asked a favor of."
"Not at all," cried Craig airily. "Facts are facts. Why deny them?"
Arkwright shrugged his shoulders. "Well, let it pass.... Whether it'ssettled me with her or not, it somehow--curiously enough--settled herwith me. Do you know, Josh, I've had no use for her since. I can'texplain it."
"Vanity," said Craig. "You are vain, like all people who don't talkabout themselves. The whole human race is vain--individually andcollectively. Now, if a man talks about himself as I do, why, his vanityfroths away harmlessly. But you and your kind suffer from ingrowingvanity. You think of nothing but yourselves--how you look--how youfeel--how you are impressing others--what you can get foryourself--self--self--self, day and night. You don't like Margaret anymore because she saw you humiliated. Where would I be if I were likethat? Why, I'd be dead or hiding in the brush; for I've had nothing butinsults, humiliations, sneers, snubs, all my life. Crow's my steadydiet, old pal. And I fatten and flourish on it."
Grant was laughing, with a choke in his throat. "Josh," said he, "you'reeither more or less than human."
"Both," said Craig. "Grant, we're wasting time. Walter!" That last in astentorian shout.
The valet appeared. "Yes, Mr. Craig."
"Pack your friend Grant, here, for two days in New York. He's goingto-night and--I guess you'd better come along."
Arkwright threw up his hands in a gesture of mock despair. "Do as hesays, Walter. He's the boss."
"Now you're talking sense," said Craig. "Some day you'll stand beforekings for this--or sit, as you please."
On their way out Josh fished from the darkness under the front stairs atattered and battered suitcase and handed it to Walter. "It's my littleall," he explained to Grant. "I've given up my rooms at the Wyandotte.They stored an old trunkful or so for me, and I've sent my books to theoffice."
"Look here, Josh," said
Grant, when they were under way; "does Margaretknow you're coming?"
"Does Margaret know I'm coming?" repeated Joshua mockingly. "DoesMargaret know her own mind and me?... Before I forget it here's a list Iwrote out against a lamp-post while I was waiting for you to come home.It's the things I must have, so far as I know. The frills and froth youknow about--I don't."
The Fashionable Adventures of Joshua Craig: A Novel Page 17