by Leroy Scott
CHAPTER XVII
The taxi went rocking up Fourth Avenue. But now that decision was madeand he was headed toward Maggie, a little of judgment reasserted itself.It would not be safe for him to walk openly into the Grantham with amouthful of questions. He did not know the number of Maggie's suite. AndMaggie might not be in. So he revised his plan slightly. He called tohis driver:
"Go to the Claridge first."
Five minutes later the taxi was in Forty-Fourth Street and Larrywas stepping out. Fortune favored him in one fact--or perhaps hissubconscious mind had based his plan upon this fact: the time washalf-past ten, the theaters still held their crowds, the streets wereempty, the restaurants were practically unoccupied. He was incurring theminimum of risk.
"Wait for me," he ordered the driver. "I'll be out in five minutes."
In less than the half of the first of these minutes Larry had attainedhis first objective: the secluded telephone-room down behind the grill.It was unoccupied except for the telephone girl who was gazing raptly atthe sorrowful, romantic, and very soiled pages of "St. Elmo." The nextmoment she was gazing at something else--a five-dollar bill which Larryhad slipped into the open book.
"That's to pay for a telephone call; just keep the change," he saidrapidly. "You're to do all the talking, and say just what I tell you."
"I got you, general," said the girl, emerging with alacrity from romanceto reality. "Shoot."
"Call up the Hotel Grantham--say you're a florist with an order todeliver some flowers direct to Miss Margaret Cameron--and ask for thenumber of her suite--and keep the wire open."
The girl obeyed promptly. In less than a minute she was reporting toLarry:
"They say 1141-1142-1143."
"Ask if she's in. If she is, get her on the 'phone, tell her longdistance is calling, but doesn't want to speak to her unless she isalone. You get it?"
"Sure, brother. This ain't the first time I helped a party out."
There was more jabbing with the switch-board plug, evident switching atthe other end, several questions, and then the girl asked: "Is this MissMargaret Cameron? Miss Cameron--" and so on as per Larry's instructions.
The operator turned to Larry: "She says she's alone."
"Tell her to hold the wire till you get better connections--the stormhas messed up connections terribly--and keep your own wire open and makeher hold her end."
As Larry went out he heard his instructions being executed while anadept hand safely banked the bill inside her shirt-waist. Within twominutes his taxi set him down at the Grantham; and knowing that whateverrisks he ran would be lessened by his acting swiftly and without anysuspicious hesitation, he walked straight in and to the elevators, inthe manner of one having business there, his collar again pulled up,his cap pulled down, and his face just then covered with a handkerchiefwhich was caring for a sniffling nose in a highly natural manner.
With his heart pounding he got without mishap to the doors numbered1141, 1142, and 1143. Instinctively he knew in a general way what theapartment was like: a set of rooms of various character which the hotelcould rent singly or throw together and rent en suite. But which of thethree was the main entrance? He dared not hesitate, for the slightestqueer action might get the attention of the floor clerk downthe corridor. So Larry chose the happy medium and pressed themother-of-pearl button of 1142.
The door opened, and before Larry stood a large, elderly, imposing womanin a rigidly formal evening gown--a gown which, by the way, had beenpart of Miss Grierson's equipment for many a year for helping raw youngthings master the art of being ladies. Larry surmised at once that thiswas the "hired companion" his grandmother had spoken of. In other daysLarry had had experience with this type and before Miss Grierson couldbar him out or ask a question, Larry was in the room and the door closedbehind him--and he had entered with the easiest, most natural, mostpolite manner imaginable.
"You were expecting me?" inquired Larry with his disarming and whollyengaging smile.
Neither Miss Grierson's mind nor body was geared for rapid action. Shewas taken aback, and yet not offended. So being at a loss, she resortedto the chief item in her stock in trade, her ever dependable dignity.
"I cannot say that I was. In fact, sir, I do not know who you are."
"Miss Cameron knows--and she is expecting me," Larry returnedpleasantly. His quick eyes had noted that this was a sitting-room: anornate, patterned affair which the great hotels seem to order in hundredlots. "Where is Miss Cameron?"
"In the next room," nodding at the connecting door. "She is engaged.Telephoning. A long-distance call. I'm quite sure she is not expectingyou," Miss Grierson went on to explain ponderously and elaborately,but with politeness, for this young man was handsome and pleasant andwell-bred and might prove to be some one of real importance. "We wereto have had a theater party with supper afterwards; but owing to MissCameron's indisposition we did not go to the theater. But she insistedon keeping the engagement for the supper, but changing it to here.Besides herself and myself, there are to be only her uncle, her cousin,and just one guest. That is why I am so certain, sir, she is notexpecting you."
"But you see," smiled Larry, "I am that one guest."
Miss Grierson shook her carefully coiffured transformation. "I've metthe guest who is coming, and I certainly have not met you."
"Then she must have asked two of us. Anyhow, I'll just speak to her, andif I'm mistaken and de trop, I'll withdraw." And ere Miss Grierson couldeven stir up an intention to intervene further, this well-manneredyoung man had smiled his disarming smile and bowed to her and had passedthrough the door, closing it behind him.
He halted, the knob in his hand. Maggie was standing sidewise to him,holding a telephone in her hand, its receiver at her ear. She must havesupposed that it was Miss Grierson who had so quietly entered, for shedid not look around.
"Yes, I'm still waiting," she was saying impatiently. "Can't you everget that connection?"
Larry had seen Maggie only in the plain dark suit which she had worn toher daily business of selling cigarettes at the Ritzmore; and once, onthe night of his return from Sing Sing, in that stage gypsy costume,which though effective was cheap and impromptu and did not at all lifther out of the environment of the Duchess's ancient and grimy house.But Larry was so startled by this changed Maggie that for the momenthe could not have moved from the door even had he so desired. She wasaccoutered in the smartest of filmy evening gowns, with the short skirtwhich was then the mode, with high-heeled silver slippers, her roundedarms and shoulders and bosom bare, her abundant black hair piled high incareful carelessness. The gown was cerise in color, and from her forearmhung a great fan of green plumes. In all the hotels and theaters of NewYork one could hardly have come upon a figure that night more strikingin its finished and fresh young womanhood. Larry trembled all over; hisheart tried to throb madly up out of his throat.
At length he spoke. And all he was able to say was:
"Maggie."
She whirled about, and telephone and receiver almost fell from herhands. She went pale, and stared at him, her mouth agape, her dark eyeswide.
"La-Larry!" she whispered.
"Maggie!" he said again.
"La-Larry! I thought you were in Chicago."
"I'm here now, Maggie--especially to see you." He did not know it, buthis voice was husky. He noted that she was still holding the telephoneand receiver. "It was I who put in that long-distance call. But I cameinstead. So you might as well hang up."
She obeyed, and set the instrument upon its little table.
"Larry--where have you been all this while?"
He was now conscious enough to note that there was tense concern in hermanner. He exulted at it, and crossed and took her hand.
"Right here in New York, Maggie."
"In hiding?"
"In mighty good hiding."
"But, Larry--don't you know it's dangerous for you to come out? And tocome here of all places?"
"I couldn't help myself. I simply h
ad to see you, Maggie."
He was still holding her hand, and there was an instinctive grip of herfingers about his. For a moment--the moment during which her outer ormore conscious self was startled into forgetfulness--they gazed at eachother silently and steadily, eye into eye.
And then the things the Duchess had said crept back into his mind, andhe said:
"Maggie, I've come to take you out of all this. Get ready--let's leaveat once."
That broke the spell. She jerked away from him, and instantly she wasthe old Maggie: the Maggie who had jeered at him and defied him thenight of his return from prison when he had announced his new plan--theMaggie who had flaunted him as "stool" and "squealer" the evening shehad left the Duchess's to enter upon this new career.
"No, you're not going to take me out of this!" she flung at him. "Itold you once before that I wasn't going your way! I told you that I wasgoing my own way! That held for then, and it holds for now, and it willhold for always!"
The softer mood which had come upon him by surprise at sight of her andfilled him, now gave way to grim determination. "Yes, you are coming myway--sometime, if not now! And now if I can make you!"
Their embattled gazes gripped each other. But now Larry was seeing morethan just Maggie. He was also taking in the room. It was close kin tothe room in which he had left Miss Grierson: ornate, undistinguished,and very expensive. He noted one slight difference: a tiny hallwaygiving on the corridor, its inner door now opened.
But the greatest difference was what he saw over Maggie's smooth whiteshoulders: a table all set with china and glass and silver, and arrangedfor five.
"Maggie, what's this game you're up to?" he demanded.
"It's none of your business!" she said fiercely, but in a low tone--forboth were instinctively remembering Miss Grierson in the adjoining room.And then she added proudly: "But it's big! Bigger than anything you everdreamed of! And you can see I am putting it across so far--and I'll beputting it across at the finish! Compare it to the cheap line you talkedabout. Bah!"
"Listen, Maggie!" In his intensity he gripped her bare forearm. "This isbad business, and if you had any sense you'd know it! Don't you thinkI get the layout? Barney is your cousin, Old Jimmie is your uncle, thatdame in the next room and this suite and your swell clothes to help putup a front! And your sickness that wouldn't let you go to the theateris just a fake, so that, not wanting to disappoint them entirely, you'dhave an excuse for having supper here--and thus adroitly draw someperson into the trap of a more intimate relationship. It's a clever andclassy layout. Maggie, exactly what's your game?"
"I'll not tell you!"
"Who's that man that's coming here?"
"I'll not tell you!"
"Is he the sucker you're out to trim?"
"I'll not tell you!"
"You will tell me!" he cried dominantly. "And you're going to get outof all this! You hear me? It may look good to you now. But I tell you ithas only one finish! And that's a rotten finish!"
She tore free from his punishing grip, and pantingly glared at him--herformer defiance now an egoistic fury.
"I won't have you interfering with my life!--you fake preacher!--youstool, you squealer!" she flung at him madly. "Stool--squealer!" sherepeated. "I tell you I'm going my own way--and it's a big way--and Itell you again nothing you can say or do can stop me! If I could have mybest wish, all I'd wish for would be something to keep you from alwaysinterfering--something to get you out of my way!"
Panting, she paused. Her tense figure, with hands closing and unclosing,expressed the very acme of furious defiance--of desire to annihilate--ofultimate hatred. Larry was astounded by the very extent, the profundity,of her passion. And so they stood, silent except for their quickbreathing, eyes fixed upon eyes, for several moments.
And then a key sounded in the outer door of the little hallway.Instantly there was an almost unbelievable transformation in Maggie.From an imperious, uncontrollable fury, she changed to a white,quivering thing.
"Barney!" she whispered; and sprang to the inner door of the littlehallway, closed and locked it.
She turned on Larry a face that was ghastly in its pallor.
"Barney always carries a pistol," she whispered.
They had heard the outer door close with a click of its automatic lock.They now heard the knob of the inner door turn and tugged at; and thenheard Barney call: "What's the matter, Maggie? Let us in."
Maggie made a supreme effort to reply in a controlled voice:
"Just a minute. I'm not quite ready."
Then a second voice sounded from the other side of the door:
"Don't keep us too long, Maggie. Please!"
There was a distantly familiar quality to Larry in that second voice.But he did not try to place it then: he was too poignantly concerned inhis own situation, and in the bewildering change in Maggie.
She slipped a hand through his arm. "Oh, La-Larry, why did you evertake such a risk!" she breathed. Her whisper was piteous, aquiver withfright. "Come this way!" and she quickly pulled him into the room wherehe had met Miss Grierson and to the door by which he had entered.
Maggie opened this door. "They're all in the little hallway--I don'tthink they'll see you," her rapid, agitated whisper went on. "Don'ttake the elevators in this corridor, they're in plain sight. There areelevators just around the corner. Take them; they're safer. Good-bye,Larry--and, oh, Larry, don't ever take such a risk again!"
With that she pushed him out and closed the door.
Larry followed her instructions about the elevator; he used the sameprecautions in leaving that he had used in coming, and twenty minuteslater he was back in his room in the Sherwood apartment. For an hour ormore he sat motionless--thinking--thinking: asking himself questions,but in his tumultuous state of mind and emotions not able to keep to aquestion long enough to reason out its possible answer.
Just what was that game in which Maggie was involved?--a game whichrequired that Grantham setting, that eminently respectable companion,and Maggie's accouterment as a young lady of obvious wealth.
Whose was that vaguely familiar second voice?--that voice which he stillcould not place.
But what he thought about most of all was something very different. Whathad caused that swift change in Maggie?--from a fury that was bothfire and granite, to that pallid, quivering, whispering girl who had sorapidly led him safely out of his danger.
To and fro, back and forth, shuttled these questions. Toward two o'clockhe stood up, mind still absorbed, and mechanically started to undress.He then observed the roll of paintings Hunt had given him. Better forthem if they were flattened out. Mechanically he removed string andpaper. There on top was the Italian mother he had asked for. A greatpainting--a truly great painting. Mechanically he lifted this aside tosee what was the second painting Hunt had included. Larry gave a greatstart and the Italian mother went flapping to the floor.
The second painting was of Maggie; the one on which Hunt had beenworking the day Larry had come back: Maggie in her plain workingclothes, looking out at the world confidently, conqueringly; thepainting in which Hunt, his brain teeming with ideas, had tried toexpress the Maggie that was, the many Maggies that were in her, and theMaggie that was yet to be.