CHAPTER VII
SPUN-GOLD HAIR, BLUE EYES, AND VARIOUS ENCOUNTERS
She was quite unaware of his presence, and yet he was directly in herpath, though some distance away. Her head was bent; her mien wasthoughtful, her stride slow and aimless.
The azure blue of the sweater she wore presented an inharmonious noteon the field of velvety green;--it was strangely out of place, hethought,--almost an offence to the eye. He was conscious of an instantprotest against this profanation.
She was slender, graceful and evidently quite tall, although she seemeda pigmy among the towering giants that attended her stroll. Her handswere thrust deep into the pockets of a white duck skirt. A glancerevealed white shoes and trim ankles in blue. She wore no hat. Her hairwas like spun gold, thick, wavy and shimmering in the subdued light.
Suddenly she stopped, and looked up. He had a full view of her face asshe gazed about as if startled by some unexpected, even alarming,sound. For a second or two he held his breath, stunned by the amazingloveliness that was revealed to him. Then she discovered him standingthere.
He was never to forget the expression that came into her eyes; nor hadhe ever seen eyes so blue. Alarm gave way to bewilderment as she staredat the motionless intruder not thirty feet away. Then, to his utterastonishment, her lips parted and a faint, wondering smile came intoher eyes. His heart leaped. She recognised him!
In a flash he realised that he was face to face with the stranger ofthe day before,--she of the veil, the alluring voice, the unfalteringspirits, and the weighty handbag!
He took two or three impulsive steps forward, his hand going to hishat,--and then halted. Evidently his senses had deceived him. There wasno smile in her eyes,--and yet he could have sworn that it was there aninstant before. Instead, there was a level stare.
"I am sorry if I startled--" he began.
The figure of a man appeared, as if discharged bodily from some magictree-trunk, and stood directly in his path: A tall, rugged man inoveralls was he, who held a spade in his hand and eyed him inimically.Without another glance in his direction, the first and more pleasingvision turned on her heel and continued her stroll, sauntering off tothe right, her fair head once more bent in study, her back eloquentlyindifferent to the gaze that followed her.
"Who do you want to see?" inquired the man with the spade.
Before Barnes could reply, a hearty voice accosted him from behind. Hewhirled and saw O'Dowd approaching, not twenty yards away. TheIrishman's face was aglow with pleasure.
"I knew I couldn't be mistaken in the shape of you," he cried,advancing with outstretched hand. "You've got the breadth of adock-hand in your shoulders, and the trimness of a prize-fighter inyour waist."
They shook hands. "I fear I am trespassing," said Barnes. His glancewent over his shoulder as he spoke. The man with the spade had beenswallowed up by the earth! He could not have vanished more quickly inany other way. Off among the trees there were intermittent flashes ofblue and white.
"I am quite sure you are," said O'Dowd promptly, but without a trace ofunfriendliness in his manner. "Bedad, loving him as I do, I can't helpsaying that Curtis is a bally old crank. Mind ye, I'd say it to hisface,--I often do, for the matter of that. Of course," he went onseriously, "he is a sick man, poor devil. I have the unholy courage tocall him a chronic crank every once in awhile, and the best thing I cansay for his health is that he grins when I say it to him. You see, I'veknown him for a dozen years and more, and he likes me, though God knowswhy, unless it may be that I once did his son a good turn in London."
"Sufficient excuse for reparation, I should say," smiled Barnes.
"I introduced the lad to me only sister," said O'Dowd, "and she kepthim happy for the next ten years. No doubt, I also provided Mr. Curtiswith three grandchildren he might never have had but for mygraciousness. As for that, I let meself in for three of the mostprodigious nephews a man ever had, God bless them. I'll show you aphotograph of them if ye'd care to look." He opened the back of hiswatch and held it out to Barnes. "Nine, seven and five, and all of themas bright as Gladstone."
"They must be stunning," said Barnes warmly.
"They'll make a beggar of me, if I live long enough," groaned O'Dowd."It beats the deuce how childer as young as they are can havediscovered what a doddering fool their uncle is. Bedad, the smallest ofthem knows it. The very instant I pretend to be a sensible, provident,middle-aged gentleman he shows me up most shamelessly. 'Twas only acouple of months ago that his confounded blandishments wiggled asixty-five dollar fire engine out of me. He squirted water all over thedrawing-room furniture, and I haven't been allowed to put foot into thehouse since. My own darlin' sister refused to look at me for a week,and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if she changed me namesake'stitle to something less enfuriating than William." A look of distresscame into his merry eyes. "By Jove, I'd like nothing better than to askyou in to have a dish of tea,--it's tea-time, I'm sure,--but I'd nomore think of doing it than I'd consider cutting off me head. Hedoesn't like strangers. He--"
"My dear fellow, don't distress yourself," cried Barnes heartily."There isn't the least reason in the world why--"
"You see, the poor old chap asks us up here once or twice a year,--thatis to say, De Soto and me,--to keep his sister from filling the houseup with men he can't endure. So long as we occupy the only availablerooms, he argues, she can't stuff them full of objectionables. Twice ayear she comes for a month, in the late fall and early spring. He'svery fond of her, and she stands by him like a major."
"Why does he continue to live in this out-of-the-world spot, Mr.O'Dowd? He is an old man, I take it, and ill."
"You wouldn't be wondering if you knew the man," said O'Dowd. "He is ascholar, a dreamer, a sufferer. He doesn't believe in doctors. He saysthey're all rascals. They'd keep him alive just for the sake of whatthey could get out of him. So he's up here to die in peace, when histime comes, and he hopes it will come soon. He doesn't want itprolonged by a grasping, greedy doctor man. It's his kidneys, you know.He's not a very old man at that. Not more than sixty-five."
"He certainly has a fanciful streak in him, building a place likethat," said Barnes, looking not at the house but into the thicketabove. There was no sign of the blue and white and the spun gold thatstill defied exclusion from his mind's eye. He had not recovered fromthe thrall into which the vision of loveliness plunged him. He wasstill a trifle dazed and distraught.
"Right you are," agreed O'Dowd; "the queerest streak in the world. It'shis notion of simplicity. I wish you could see the inside of the place.You'd wonder to what exalted heights his ideas of magnificence wouldcarry him if he calls this simplicity. He loves it all, he dotes on it.It's the only joy he knows, this bewildering creation of his. Fornearly three years he has not been more than a stone's throw from thewalls of that house. I doubt if he's been as far as the spot wherewe're standing now."
"Green Fancy. Is that the name he gave the place or does it springfrom--"
"'Twas christened by me own sister, Mr. Barnes, the first time she washere, two years ago. I'll walk with you to the fence beyond if you'veno objections," said O'Dowd, genially, and linked his arm through thatof Barnes.
The latter was at once subtly aware of the fact that he was beingdeliberately conducted from the grounds. Moreover, he was now convincedthat O'Dowd had been close upon his heels from the instant he enteredthem. There was something uncanny in the feeling that possessed him.Such espionage as this signified something deep and imperative in thepresence not only of O'Dowd but the Jack-in-the-box gardener a fewminutes earlier. He had the grim suspicion that he would later onencounter the spectacled De Soto.
His mind was still full of the lovely stranger about whom O'Dowd had somanifestly lied over the telephone.
"I must ask you to apologise to the young lady on whom I blundered afew moments ago, Mr. O'Dowd. She must have been startled. Pray conveyto her my solicitude and excuses."
"Consider it done, my dear sir," said the Irishman. "Our most cha
rmingand seductive guest," he went on. "Bedad, of the two of you, I'll stakeme head you were startled the most. Coming suddenly upon such rareloveliness is almost equivalent to being struck by a bolt of lightning.It did something like that to me when I saw her for the first time acouple of weeks ago. I didn't get over it for the better part of aday,--I can't say that I really got over it at all. More than onepainter of portraits has said that she is the most beautiful woman inthe world. I don't take much stock in portrait painters, but I'm alwaysfair to the lords of creation when their opinions coincide with mine.Mayhap you have heard of her. She is Miss Cameron of New Orleans, afriend of Mrs. Van Dyke. We have quite an enchanting house-party, Mr.Barnes, if you consider no more than the feminine side of it.Unfortunate creatures! To be saddled with such ungainly lummixes as DeSoto and me! By the way, have you heard when the coroner is to hold hisinquests?"
"Nothing definite. He may wait a week," said Barnes.
"I suppose you'll stick around until it's all over," ventured O'Dowd.Barnes thought he detected a slight harshness in his voice.
"I have quite made up my mind to stay until the mystery is entirelycleared up," he said. "The case is so interesting that I don't want tomiss a shred of it."
"I don't blame ye," said O'Dowd heartily. "I'd like nothing bettermeself than to mix up in it, but, Lord love ye, if I turned detectiveI'd also be turned out of the spare bed-room beyond, and sped on me waywith curses. Well, here we are. The next time you plan to pay us avisit, telephone in advance. I may be able to persuade my host thatyou're a decent, law-abiding, educated gentleman, and he'll consent toreceive you at Green Fancy. Good day to ye," and he shook hands withthe departing trespasser.
A quarter of a mile below the spot where he parted from O'Dowd, Barnescaught a glimpse of De Soto sauntering among the trees. He smiled tohimself. It was just what he had expected.
"Takin' a walk?" was the landlord's greeting as he mounted the tavernsteps at dusk. Putnam Jones's gaunt figure had been discernible forsome time, standing motionless at the top of the steps.
"Going over the ground of last night's affair," responded Barnes,pausing. "Any word from the sheriff and his party?"
"Nope. The blamed fools are still up there turnin' over all the loosestones they c'n find," said Jones sarcastically. "Did you get a glimpseof Green Fancy?"
Barnes nodded. "I strolled a little distance into the woods," he saidbriefly.
"I wouldn't do it again," said Jones. "Strangers ain't welcome. I mighthave told you as much if I'd thought you were going up that way. Mr.Curtis notified me a long while ago to warn my guests not to set footon his grounds, under penalty of the law."
"Well, I escaped without injury," laughed Barnes. "No one took a shotat me."
As he entered the door he was acutely aware of an intense starelevelled at him from behind by the landlord of Hart's Tavern. Half wayup the stairway he stopped short, and with difficulty repressed theexclamation that rose to his lips.
He had recalled a significant incident of the night before. Almostimmediately after the departure of Roon and Paul from the Tavern,Putnam Jones had made his way to the telephone behind the desk, and hadcalled for a number in a loud, brisk voice, but the subsequentconversation was carried on in subdued tones, attended by haste andoccasional furtive glances in the direction of the tap-room.
Upon reaching his room, Barnes permitted the suppressed emotion toescape his lips in the shape of a soft whistle, which if it could havebeen translated into words would have said: "By Gad, why haven't Ithought of it before? He sent out the warning that Roon and Paul wereon the way! And I'd like to bet my last dollar that some one at GreenFancy had the other end of the wire."
Mr. Rushcroft stalked majestically into his room while he was shaving,without taking the trouble to knock at the door, and in his mostimpressive manner announced that if there was another hostelry withinreasonable distance he would move himself, his luggage and his entirecompany out of Putnam Jones's incomprehensible house.
"Why, sir," he declared, "the man is not only a knave but a fool. Heflatly declines the prodigious offer I have made for the corner roomsat the end of the corridor. In fact, he refuses to transfer my daughterand me from our present quarters into what might be called the royalsuite if one were disposed to be facetious. The confounded blockheadinsists on seeing the colour of my money in advance." He sat down onthe edge of the bed, dejectedly. "My daughter, perversity personified,takes the extraordinary stand that the wretch is right. She agrees withhim. She has even gone so far as to say, to my face, that beggarscannot be choosers, although I must give her credit for not using theexpression in the scoundrel's presence. 'Pon my soul, Barnes, I havenever been so sorely tried in all my life. Emma,--I should say,Mercedes,--denounces me to my face. She says I am a wastrel, aprofligate,--(there I have her, however, for she failed to consult thedictionary before applying the word to me),--an ingrate, and a lot ofother things I fail to recall in my dismay. She contends that I have noright to do what I please with my own money. Indeed, she goes so far asto say that I haven't any money at all. I have tried to explain to herthe very simple principles upon which all financial transactions arebased, but she remains as obtuse as Cleopatra's Needle. Her ignorancewould be pitiful if she wasn't so damned obstinate about it. And to capthe climax, she had the insolence to ask me to show her a dollar inreal money. By gad, sir, she's as unreasonable as Putnam Jones himself."
Barnes gallantly came to the daughter's defense. He was more thanpleased by the father's revelations. They proved her to be possessed offine feelings and a genuine sense of appreciation.
"As a matter of fact, Mr. Rushcroft, I think she is quite right," hesaid flatly. "It isn't a bad idea to practice economy."
"My dear sir," said Rushcroft peevishly, "where would I be now in myprofession if I had practiced economy at the expense of progress?"
"I don't know," confessed Barnes, much too promptly.
"I can tell you, sir. I would be nowhere at all. I would not be thepossessor of a name that is known from one end of this land to theother, a name that guarantees to the public the most elaborateproductions known to--"
"Pardon me," interrupted the other; "it doesn't get you anywhere withPutnam Jones, and that is the issue at present. The government puts theportrait of George Washington on one of its greenbacks but his face andname wouldn't be worth the tenth of a penny if the United States wentbankrupt. As it is, however, if you were to go downstairs and profferone of those bills to Putnam Jones he would make his most elaborate bowand put you into the best room in the house. George Washington hasbacking that even Mr. Jones cannot despise. So, you see, your daughteris right. Your name and face is yet to be stamped on a government banknote, Mr. Rushcroft, and until that time comes you are no better offthan I or any of the rest of the unfortunates who, being still alive,have to eat for a living."
"You speak in parables," said Mr. Rushcroft, arising. "Am I to assumethat you wish to withdraw your offer to lend me--"
"Not at all," said Barnes. "My desire to stake you to the comforts anddignity your station deserves remains unchanged. If you will bear withme until I have finished shaving I will go with you to Mr. Jones andshow him the colour of your money."
Mr. Rushcroft grinned shamelessly. "My daughter was right when she saidanother thing to me," he observed, sitting down once more.
"She appears to be more or less infallible."
"A woman in a million," said the star. "She said that I wouldn't make ahit with you if I attempted to put on too much side. I perceive thatshe was right,--as usual."
"Absolutely," said Barnes, with decision.
"So I'll cut it out," remarked Rushcroft quaintly. "I will beeverlastingly grateful to you, Mr. Barnes, if you'll fix things up withJones. God knows when or whether I can ever reimburse you, but as I amnot really a dead-beat the time will certainly come when I may beginpaying in installments. Do we understand each other?"
"We do," said Barnes, and started downstairs with him.
H
alf an hour later Barnes succeeded in striking a bargain with PutnamJones. He got the two rooms at the end of the hall at half price,insisting that it was customary for every hotel to give actors asubstantial reduction in rates.
"You shall be treasurer and business-manager in my reorganizedcompany," said Rushcroft. "With your acumen and my eccentricity unitedin a common cause we will stagger the universe."
Despite his rehabilitation as a gentleman of means and independence,Mr. Rushcroft could not forego the pleasure of staggering a smallsection of the world that very night. He was giving Hamlet's address tothe players in the tap-room when Barnes came downstairs at nineo'clock. Bacon and Dillingford having returned earlier in the eveningwith the trunks, bags and other portable chattels of the defunct"troupe," Mr. Rushcroft was performing in a sadly wrinkled Norfolk suitof grey which Dillingford was under solemn injunction to press beforebreakfast the next morning.
"I know I don't have to do it," said the star, catching the surprisedlook in Barnes's eye and pausing to explain, sotto voce, "but I hadn'tthe heart to refuse. They're eating it up, my dear fellow. Up to thisinstant they've been sitting with their mouths wide open while I hurledit, word after word, into their very vitals. "Whereupon he resumed thesonorous monologue, glowering balefully upon his transfixed hearers.
Barnes, leaning against the door-jamb, listened with an amused smile onhis lips. His gaze swept the rapt faces of the dozen or more customersseated at the tables, and he found himself wondering if one of thesemen was the father of the little girl whose mother had described Hart'sTavern as a "shindy." Was it only yesterday that he had spoken with thebarefoot child? An age seemed to have passed since that brief encounter.
Rushcroft ended Hamlet's speech in fine style, and almost instantly amild voice from the crowd asked if he knew "Casey at the Bat." Not inthe least distressed by this woeful commentary, Mr. Rushcroftcheerfully, obligingly tackled the tragic fizzle of the immortal Casey.
A small, dark man who sat alone at a table in the corner, caughtBarnes's eye and smiled almost mournfully. He was undoubtedly astranger; his action was meant to convey to Barnes the information thathe too was from a distant and sophisticated community, and that a bondof sympathy existed between them.
Putnam Jones spoke suddenly at Barnes's shoulder. He startedinvoluntarily. The man was beginning to get on his nerves. He seemed tobe dogging his footsteps with ceaseless persistency.
"That feller over there in the corner," said Jones, softly, "is abook-agent from your town. He sold me a set of Dickens when he was herelast time, about six weeks ago. A year's subscription to two magazinesthrowed in. By gosh, these book-agents are slick ones. I didn't wantthat set of Dickens any more'n I wanted a last year's bird's nest. Thething I'm afraid of is that he'll talk me into taking a set of Scottbefore he moves on. He's got me sweatin' already."
"He's a shrewd looking chap," commented Barnes.
"Says he won't be satisfied till he's made this section of the countrythe most cultured, refined spot in the United States," said Jonesdolefully. "He brags about how much he did toward makin' Boston theliterary centre of the United States, him and his father before him.Together, he says, they actually elevated Boston from the bottomlesspit of ignorance and----Excuse me. There goes the telephone. Maybe it'snews from the sheriff."
With the spasmodic tinkling of the telephone bell, the book-agent aroseand made his way to the little office. As he passed Barnes, he winkedbroadly, and said, out of the corner of his mouth:
"He'd make DeWolf Hopper look sick, wouldn't he?"
Barnes glanced over his shoulder a moment later and saw the book-agentstudying the register. The poise of his sleek head, however, suggesteda listening attitude. Putnam Jones, not four feet away, was speakinginto the telephone receiver. As the receiver was restored to its hook,Barnes turned again. Jones and the book-agent were examining theregister, their heads almost meeting from opposite sides of the desk.
The latter straightened up, stretched his arms, yawned, and announcedin a loud tone that he guessed he'd step out and get a bit of fresh airbefore turning in.
"Any news?" inquired Barnes, approaching the desk after the door hadclosed behind the book-agent.
"It wasn't the sheriff," replied Jones shortly, and immediately resumedhis interrupted discourse on books, book-agents and the reclamation ofBoston. Ten minutes elapsed before the landlord's garrulity was checkedby the sound of an automobile coming to a stop in front of the house.Barnes turned expectantly toward the door. Almost immediately the carstarted up again, with a loud shifting of gears, and a moment later thedoor opened to admit, not a fresh arrival, but the little book-agent.
"Party trying to make Hornville to-night," he announced casually."Well, good night. See you in the morning."
Barnes was not in a position to doubt the fellow's word, for the carunmistakably had gone on toward Hornville. He waited a few minutesafter the man disappeared up the narrow stairway, and then proceeded totest his powers of divination. He was as sure as he could be sure ofanything that had not actually come to pass, that in a short time theautomobile would again pass the tavern but this time from the directionof Hornville.
Lighting a cigarette, he strolled outside. He had barely time to take aposition at the darkened end of the porch before the sounds of anapproaching machine came to his ears. A second or two later the lightsswung around the bend in the road a quarter of a mile above Hart'sTavern, and down came the car at a high rate of speed. It dashed pastthe tavern with a great roar and rattle and shot off into the darknessbeyond. As it rushed through the dim circle of light in front of thetavern, Barnes succeeded in obtaining a brief but convincing view ofthe car. That glance was enough, however. He would have been willing togo before a jury and swear that it was the same car that had depositedhim at Hart's Tavern the day before.
Having guessed correctly in the one instance, he allowed himselfanother and even bolder guess: the little book-agent had eitherreceived a message from or delivered one to the occupant or driver ofthe car from Green Fancy.
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