by Leroy Scott
CHAPTER XII
When Larry awoke the next morning, he blinked for several bewilderedmoments about his bedroom, so unlike his cell at Sing Sing and so unlikeHunt's helter-skelter studio down at the Duchess's which he had shared,before he realized that this big, airy chamber and this miracle of a bedon which he lay were realities and not a mere continuation of a dream offantastic and body-flattering wealth.
Then his mind turned back a page in the book of his life and he layconsidering the events of the previous evening: the scene with Barneyand Old Jimmie and Maggie, their all denouncing him as a policestool-pigeon and a squealer, and Maggie's defiant departure to begin herlong-dreamed-of career as a leading-woman and perhaps star in what shesaw as great and thrilling adventures; his own enforced and frenziedflight; his strange method of reaching this splendid apartment; hismeeting with the handsome, drink-befuddled young man in evening clothes;his meeting with the exquisitely gowned patrician Miss Sherwood, whohad received him with the poise and frank friendliness of a democraticqueen, and had immediately ordered him off to bed.
Strange, all of these things! But they were all realities. And in thisnew set of circumstances which had come into being in a night, what washe to do?
He recalled that Miss Sherwood had said that she and he would have theirtalk that morning. He pulled his watch from under his pillow. It waspast nine o'clock. He looked about him for clothes, but saw only abathrobe. Then he remembered Judkins carrying off his rain-soakedgarments, with "Ring for me when you wake up, sir."
Larry found an electric bell button dangling over the top of his bed bya silken cord. He pushed the button and waited. Within two minutes thedoor opened, and Judkins entered, laden with fresh garments.
"Good-morning, sir," said Judkins. "Your own clothes, and some shirtsand other things I've borrowed from Mr. Dick. How will you have yourbath, sir--hot or cold?"
"Cold," said the bewildered Larry.
Judkins disappeared into the great white-tiled bathroom, there was therush of splashing water for a few moments, then silence, and Judkinsreappeared.
"Your bath is ready, sir. I've laid out some of Mr. Dick's razors. Howsoon shall I bring you in your breakfast?"
"In about twenty minutes," said Larry.
Exactly twenty minutes later Judkins carried in a tray, and set it ona table beside a window looking down into Park Avenue. "Miss Sherwoodasked me to tell you she would see you in the library at ten o'clock,sir--where she saw you last night," said Judkins, and noiselessly wasgone.
Freshly shaven, tingling from his bath, with a sense of being garbedflawlessly, though in garments partly alien, Larry addressed himselfto the breakfast of grapefruit, omelette, toast and coffee, served onSevres china with covers of old silver. In his more prosperous erasLarry had enjoyed the best private service that the best hotels in NewYork had to sell; but their best had been coarse and slovenly comparedto this. He would eat for a minute or two--then get up and look at hiscarefully dressed self in the full-length mirror--then gaze from hishigh, exclusive window down into Park Avenue with its stream of carscomfortably carrying their occupants toward ten o'clock jobs in Wallor Broad Streets--and then he would return to his breakfast. This wasamazing--bewildering!
He was toward the end of his omelette when a knock sounded at his door.Thinking Judkins had returned, he called, "Come in"; but instead ofJudkins the opening door admitted the belligerent young man in rumpledevening clothes of the previous night. Now he wore a silk dressing-gownof a flamboyant peacock blue, his feet showed bare in toe slippers, hiswavy, yellowish hair had the tousled effect of a very recent separationfrom a pillow. A cigarette depended from the corner of his mouth.
Larry started to rise. But the young man arrested the motion with agesture of mock imperativeness.
"Keep your seat, fair sir; I would fain have speech with thee." Hecrossed and sat on a corner of Larry's table, one slippered footdangling, and looked Larry over with an appraising eye. "Permit me toremark, sir," he continued in his grand manner, "that you look as thoughyou might be some one."
"Is that what you wanted to tell me, Mr. Sherwood?" queried Larry.
The other's grand manner vanished and he grinned. "Forget the 'Mr.Sherwood,' or you'll make me feel not at home in my own house," hebegged with humorous mournfulness. "Call me Dick. Everybody else does.That's settled. Now to the reason for this visitation at such an ungodlyhour. Sis has just been in picking on me. Says I was rude to you lastnight. I suppose I was. I'd had several from my private stock early inthe evening; and several more around in jovial Manhattan joints whereprohibition hasn't checked the flow of happiness if you know thecountersign. The cumulative effect you saw, and were the victim of. Iapologize, sir."
"That's all right, Mr.--"
"Dick is what I said," interrupted the other.
"Dick, then. It's all right. I understand."
"Thanks. I'll call you Old Captain Nemo for short. Sis didn't tellme your name or anything about you, and she said I wasn't to ask youquestions. But whatever Isabel does is usually one hundred percentright. She said I'd probably be seeing a lot of you, so I'll introducemyself. You'd learn all about me from some one else, anyhow, so youmight as well learn about me from me and get an impartial and unbiasedstatement. Clever of me, ain't it, to beat 'em to it?"
Larry found himself smiling back into the ingratiating, irresponsible,boyish face. "I suppose so."
"I'll shoot you the whole works at once. Name, Richard LivingstonSherwood. Years, twenty-four, but alleged not yet to have reached theage of discretion. One of our young flying heroes who helped save Franceand make the world safe for something or other by flapping his wingsover the endless alkali of Texas. Occupation, gentleman farmer."
"You a farmer!" exclaimed Larry.
"A gentleman farmer," corrected Dick. "The difference between a farmerand a gentleman farmer, Captain Nemo, is that a gentleman farmer makesno profit on his crops. Now my friends say I'm losing an awful lot ofmoney and am sowing an awfully big crop. And according to them, insteadof practicing sensible crop rotation, I'm a foolish one-crop farmer--andmy one crop is wild oats."
"I see," said Larry.
"Of course I do do a little something else on the side. Avocation. I'min the brokerage business. But my chief business is looking after theSherwood interests. You see, my mother--father died ten years before shedid--my mother, being dotty about the innate superiority of the male,left me in control of practically everything, and I do as well by it asthe more important occupation of farming will permit. Which completesthe racy history of myself."
"I'm sorry I can't reciprocate."
"That's all right, Captain Nemo. There's plenty of time--and it doesn'tmake any difference, anyhow." For all his light manner and carelesschatter, Larry had a sense that Dick had been sizing him up all thiswhile; that, in fact, to do this was the real purpose of the presentcall. Dick slipped to his feet. "If you're just now a bit shy on duds,as I understand you are, why, we're about the same size. Tell Judkinswhat you want, and make him give you plenty. What time you got?"
"Just ten o'clock."
"By heck--time a farmer was pulling on his overalls and going forth tohis dew-gemmed toil!"
"And time for me to be seeing your sister," said Larry, rising.
"Come on. I'm a good seneschal, or major domo, or what you like--andI'll usher you into her highness's presence."
A moment later Larry was pushed through the library door and Dickannounced in solemn tone:
"Senorita--Mademoiselle--our serene, revered, and most high sisterIsabel, permit us to present our newest and most charming friend,Captain Nemo."
"Dick," exclaimed Miss Sherwood, "get out of here and get yourself intosome clothes!"
"Listen to that!" complained Dick. "She still talks to me as though Iwere her small brother. Next thing she'll be ordering me to wash behindmy ears!"
"Get out, and shut the door after you!"
The reply was Dick's stately exit and the sharp closing of the door.
"Has Dick been talking to you about himself?" asked Miss Sherwood.
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
Larry gave the substance of the autobiography which Dick hadvolunteered.
"Part of that is more than the truth, part less than the truth," MissSherwood remarked. "But this morning we were to have a real talk aboutyour affairs, and let's get to the subject."
She had motioned him to a chair beside the quaint old desk, and theywere now sitting face to face. Isabel Sherwood looked as much thefinished patrician as on the evening before, and with that easy,whimsical humor and the direct manner of the person who is sure ofherself; and in the sober, disillusioning daylight she had no lessof beauty than had seemed hers in the softer lighting of their firstmeeting. The clear, fresh face with its violet-blue eyes was gazing athim intently. Larry realized that she was looking into the very soul ofhim, and he sat silent during this estimate which he recognized she hadthe right to make.
"Mr. Hunt has written me the main facts about you, certainly the worst,"she said finally. "You need tell me nothing further, if you prefer notto do so; but it might be helpful if I knew more of the details."
Larry felt that there was no information he was not willing to give thisclear-eyed, charming woman; and so he told her all that had happenedsince his return from Sing Sing, including his falling in love withMaggie, the nature of their conflict, her departure into the ways of herambition.
"You are certainly facing a lot of difficult propositions." MissSherwood checked them off on her fingers. "The police are afteryou--your old friends are after you--you do not dare be caught. Youwant to clear yourself--you want to make a business success--you wantto eradicate Maggie's present ambitions and remove her from her presentinfluences."
"That is the correct total," said Larry.
"Certainly a large total! Of them all, which is the most importantitem?"
Larry considered. "Maggie," he confessed. "But Maggie really includesall the others. To have any influence with her, I must get out of thepower of the police, I must overcome her belief that I am a stool anda squealer, and I must prove to her that I can make a success by goingstraight."
"Just so. And all these things you must do while a fugitive in hiding."
"Exactly. Or else not do them."
"H'm!... The most pressing thing, I judge, is to have a safe andpermanent place to hide, and to have work which may lead to anopportunity to prove yourself a success."
"Yes."
"Mr. Hunt's O.K. on you would be sufficient, in any event, and he hasgiven that O.K.," Miss Sherwood said in her even voice. "Besides, my ownjudgment prompts me to believe in your truth and your sincerity. I havebeen thinking the matter over since I saw you last night. I thereforeask you to remain here, never leaving the apartment--"
"Miss Sherwood!" he ejaculated.
"And a little later, when we go out to our place on Long Island, you'llhave more freedom. For the present you will be, to the servants and anyother persons who may chance to come in, Mr. Brandon, a second cousinstaying with us; and your explanation for never venturing forth can bethat you are convalescing after an operation. Perhaps you can think of aplan whereby later on you might occasionally leave the house without toogreat risk to yourself."
"Yes. The risk comes from the police, and from some of my old friendsand the gangsters they have enlisted. So long as they believe me inNew York, they'll all be on the lookout for me every moment. If theybelieved me out of New York, they would all discontinue their vigilance.If--if--But perhaps you would not care to do so much."
"Go on."
"Would you be willing to write a letter to some friend in Chicago,requesting the friend to post an enclosed letter written by me?"
"Certainly."
"My handwriting would be disguised--but a person who really knows mywriting would penetrate the attempted disguise and recognize it as mine.My letter would be addressed to my grandmother requesting her to expressmy recent purchase of forfeited pledges to me in Chicago. A cleverperson reading the letter would be certain I was asking her to send memy clothes."
"What's the point to that?"
"One detail of the police's search for me will be to open secretly, withthe aid of the postal authorities, all mail addressed to my grandmother.They will steam open this letter about my clothes, then seal it and letit be delivered. But they will have learned that I have escaped them andam in Chicago. They will drop the hunt here and telegraph the Chicagopolice, And of course the news will leak through to my old friends, andthey'll also stop looking for me in New York."
"I see."
"And enclosed in another letter written by you, I'll send an order, alsoto be posted in Chicago, to a good friend of mine asking him to call atthe express office, get my clothes, and hold them until I call or sendfor them. When he goes and asks for the clothes, the Chicago police willget him and find the order on him. They'll have no charge at all againsthim, but they'll have further proof that I'm in Chicago or some placein the Middle West. The effect will be definitely to transfer the searchfrom New York."
"Yes, I see," repeated Miss Sherwood. "Go ahead and do it; I'llhelp you. But for the present you've got to remain right here in theapartment, as I said. And later, when you think the letters have hadtheir effect, you must use the utmost caution."
"Certainly," agreed Larry.
"Now as to your making a start in business. I suspect that my affairsare in a very bad shape. Things were left to my brother, as he told you.I have a lot of papers, all kinds of accounts, which he has brought tome and he's bringing me a great many more. I can't make head or tailof them, and I think my brother is about as much befuddled as I am. Ibelieve only an expert can understand them. Mr. Hunt says you havea very keen mind for such matters. I wish you'd take charge of thesepapers, and try to straighten them out."
"Miss Sherwood," Larry said slowly, "you know my record and yet you risktrusting me with your affairs?"
"Not that I wouldn't take the risk--but whatever there is to steal, someone else has already stolen it, or will steal it. Your work will be todiscover thefts or mistakes, and to prevent thefts or mistakes if youcan. You see I am not placing any actual control over stealable propertyin you--not yet.... Well, what do you say?"
"I can only say, Miss Sherwood, that you are more than good, and that Iam more than grateful, and that I shall do my best!"
Miss Sherwood regarded him thoughtfully for a long space. Then she said:"I am going to place something further in your hands, for if you are asclever as I think you are, and if life has taught you as much as I thinkit has, I believe you can help me a lot. My brother Dick is wild andreckless. I wish you'd look out for him and try to hold him in checkwhere you can. That is, if this isn't placing too great a duty on you."
"That's not a duty--it's a compliment!"
"Then that will be all for the present. I'll see you again in an hour ortwo, when I shall have some things ready to turn over to you."
Back in his bedroom Larry walked exultantly to and fro. He had security!And at last he had a chance--perhaps the chance he had been yearning forthrough which he was ultimately to prove himself a success!...
He wondered yet more about Miss Sherwood. And again about her and Hunt.Miss Sherwood was clever, gracious, everything a man could want in awoman; and he guessed that behind her humorous references to Hunt therewas a deep feeling for the big painter who was living almost like atramp in the attic of the Duchess's little house. And Larry knew MissSherwood was the only woman in Hunt's life; Hunt had said as much. Theywere everything to each other; they trusted each other. Yet there wassome wide breach between the two; evidently his own crisis had forcedthe only communication which had passed between the two for months. Hewondered what that breach could be, and what had been its cause.
And then an idea began to open its possibilities. What a splendidreturn, if, somehow, he could do something that would help bringtogether these two persons who had befriended him!...
Bu
t most of the time, while he waited for Miss Sherwood to summon himagain, he wondered about Maggie. Yes, as he had told Miss Sherwood,Maggie was the most important problem of his life: all his many otherproblems were important only in the degree that they aided or hinderedthe solution of Maggie. Where was she?--what was she doing?--how was he,in this pleasant prison which he dared not leave, ever to overcome herscorn of him, and ever to divert her from that dangerous career in whichher proud and excited young vision saw only the brilliant and profitableadventure of high romance?