Children of the Whirlwind

by Leroy Scott

  CHAPTER XXVI

  During all these days Larry waited for news of the result of theexperiment in psychology which meant so much to his life. He had notexpected to hear directly from Maggie; but he had counted upon learningat once from Dick, if not by words, then either from eloquent dejectionwhich would proclaim Dick's refusal (and Larry's success) or from anebullient joy which would proclaim that Maggie had accepted him. ButDick's sober but not unhappy behavior announced neither of these twoto Larry; and the matter was too personal, altogether too delicate, topermit Larry to ask Dick the result, however subtly he might ask it.

  So Larry could only wait--and wonder. The truth did not occur to Larry;he did not see that there might be another alternative to the twopossible reactions he had calculated upon. He did not bear in mind thatMaggie's youthful obstinacy, her belief in herself and her ways, weretoo solid a structure to yield at once to one moral shock, howeverwisely planned and however strong. He did not at this time hold in mindthat any real change in so decided a character as Maggie, if changethere was to be, would be preceded and accompanied by a turbulent periodin which she would hardly know who she was, or where she was, or whatshe was going to do--and that at the end of such a period there might beno change at all.

  Inasmuch as just then Maggie was his major interest, it seemed to Larryin his safe seclusion that he was merely marking time, and marking timewith feet that were frantically impatient. He felt he could not standmuch longer his own inactivity and his ignorance of what Maggie wasdoing and what was happening to her. He could not remain in thissanctuary pulling strings, and very long and fragile strings, andstrings which might be the mistaken ones, for any much greater period.He felt that he simply had to walk out of this splendid safety, backinto the dangers from which he had fled, where he might at least havethe possible advantage of being in the very midst of Maggie's affairsand fight for her more openly and have a more direct influence upon her.

  He knew that, sooner or later, he was going to throw caution asideand appear suddenly among his enemies, unless something of a definitecharacter developed. But for these slow, irritating days he held himselfin check with difficulty, hoping that things might come to him, that hewould not have to go forth to them.

  He had brought Hunt's portrait of Maggie to Cedar Crest in the bottom ofhis trunk, and kept it locked in his chiffonier. During these days,more frequently than before, he would take out the portrait and inthe security of his locked room would gaze long at that keen-visionedportrayal of her many characters. No doubt of it: there was a possiblesplendid woman there! And no doubt of it: he loved that woman utterly!

  During these days of his ignorance, while Maggie was struggling in thedarkness of her unexplored being, Larry drove himself grimly at thebusiness to which under happier circumstances he would have gone underthe irresistible suasion of pure joy. One afternoon he presented toMiss Sherwood an outline for his growing plan for the development ofthe Sherwood properties on the basis of good homes at fair rentals. Hediscovered that, in spite of her generous giving, she had much the sameattitude toward Charity as his own: that the only sound Charity, exceptfor those temporarily or permanently handicapped or disabled, was thegiving of honest values for honest returns--and that was not Charity atall.

  The project of reforming the shiftless character of the Sherwoodproperties, and of relieving even in a small degree New York's housingcongestion, appealed at once to her imagination and her sensibleidealism.

  "A splendid plan!" she exclaimed, regarding Larry with those wise,humorous eyes of hers, which were now very serious and penetrating. "Youhave been working much harder than I had thought. And if you will pardonmy saying it, you have more of the soundly humane vision which bigbusiness enterprise should have than I had thought."

  "Thank you!" said Larry.

  "That's a splendid dream," she continued; "but it will take hard work totranslate that dream into a reality. We shall need architects, builders,a heavy initial expense, time--and a more modern and alert management."

  "Yes, Miss Sherwood."

  She did not speak for a moment. Her penetrating eyes, which had beenfixed on him in close thought, were yet more penetrating. Finally shesaid:

  "That's a big thing, a useful thing. The present agents wish to berelieved of our affairs as soon as I can make arrangements--and I'dlike nothing better than for Dick to drop what he's doing and get intosomething constructive and useful like this. But Dick cannot do italone; he's too unsettled, and too inexperienced to cope with some ofthe sharper business practices."

  She paused again, still regarding him with those keen eyes, which seemedto be weighing him. Finally she said, almost abruptly:

  "Will you take charge of this with Dick? He likes you and respectsyour judgment; I'm sure you'd help steady him down. Of course you lackpractical experience, but you can take in a practical man who willsupply this element. Practical experience is one of the commonestarticles on the market; vision and initiative are among the rarest--andyou have them. What do you say?"

  Larry could not say anything at once. The suddenness of her offer, thelargeness of his opportunity, bewildered him for the moment. And hisbewilderment was added to by his swift realization of quite anotherelement involved in her frank proposition. He was now engaged in theenterprise of foisting a bogus article, Maggie, upon this woman who wasoffering him her complete confidence--an enterprise of most questionableethics and very dubious issue. If he accepted her offer, and the resultof this enterprise were disaster, what would Miss Sherwood then think ofhim?

  He took refuge in evasion. "I'm not going to try to tell you how muchI appreciate your proposition, Miss Sherwood. But do you mind if I holdback my answer for the present and think it over? Anyhow, to do allthat is required I must be able to work in the open--and I can't dothat until I get free of my entanglements with the police and my oldacquaintances."

  Thus it was agreed upon. Miss Sherwood turned to another subject. Thepre-public show of Hunt's pictures had opened the previous day.

  "When you were in the city yesterday, did you get in to see Mr. Hunt'sexhibition?"

  "No," he answered. "Although I wanted to. But you know I've already seenall of Mr. Hunt's pictures that Mr. Graham has in his gallery. How wasthe opening?"

  "Crowded with guests. And since they had been told that the pictureswere unusual and good, of course the people were enthusiastic."

  "What kind of prices was Mr. Graham quoting?"

  "He wasn't quoting any. He told me he wasn't going to sell a picture,or even mention a price, until the public exhibition. He's veryenthusiastic. He thinks Mr. Hunt is already made--and in a big way."

  And then she added, her level gaze very steady on Larry:

  "Of course Mr. Hunt is really a great painter. But he needed a jolt tomake him go out and really paint his own kind of stuff. And he neededsome one like you to put him across in a business way."

  When she left, she left Larry thinking: thinking of her saying thatHunt "needed a jolt to make him go out and really paint his own kindof stuff." Hidden behind that remark somewhere could there be theexplanation for the break between these two? Larry began to see aglimmer of light. It was entirely possible that Miss Sherwood, in sofinished and adroit a manner that Hunt had not discerned her purpose,had herself given him this jolt or at least contributed to its force. Itmight all have been diplomacy on her part, applied shrewdly to theman she understood and loved. Yes, that might be the explanation. Yes,perhaps she had been doing in a less trying way just what he was seekingto do under more stressful circumstances with Maggie: to arouse him tohis best by indirectly working at definite psychological reactions.

  That afternoon Hunt appeared at Cedar Crest, and while there dropped inon Larry. The big painter, in his full-blooded, boyish fashion, fairlygasconaded over the success of his exhibit. Larry smiled at the other'sexuberant enthusiasm. Hunt was one man who could boast without everbeing offensively egotistical, for Hunt, added to his other gifts, hadthe divine gift of being able to lau
gh at himself.

  Larry saw here an opportunity to forward that other ambition of his:the bringing of Hunt and Miss Sherwood together. And at this instantit flashed upon him that Miss Sherwood's seemingly casual remarks aboutHunt had not been casual at all. Perhaps they had been carefully thoughtout and spoken with a definite purpose. Perhaps Miss Sherwood had beenvery subtly appointing him her ambassador. She was clever enough forthat.

  "Stop declaiming those self-written press notices of your unapproachablesuperiority," Larry interrupted. "If you use your breath up like thatyou'll drown on dry land. Besides, I just heard something better thanthis mere articulated air of yours. Better because from a person in hersenses."

  "Heard it from whom?"

  "Miss Sherwood."

  "Miss Sherwood! What did she say?"

  "That you were a really great painter."

  "Huh!" snorted Hunt. "Why shouldn't she say that? I've proved it!"

  "Hunt," said Larry evenly, "you are the greatest painter I ever met,but you also have the distinction of being the greatest of all damnedfools."

  "What's that, young fellow?"

  "You love Miss Sherwood, don't you? At least you've the same as told methat in words, and you've told me that in loud-voiced actions every timeyou've seen her."

  "Well--what if I do?"

  "If you had the clearness of vision that is in the glassy eye of a coldboiled lobster you would see that she feels the same way about you."

  "See here, Larry"--all the boisterous quality had gone from Hunt'svoice, and it was low-pitched and a bit unsteady--"I don't mind yourjoshing me about myself or my painting, but don't fool with me aboutanything that's really important."

  "I'm not fooling you. I'm sure Miss Sherwood feels that way."

  "How do you know?"

  "I've got a pair of eyes that don't belong to a cold boiled lobster. Andwhen I see a thing, I know I see it."

  "You're all wrong, Larry. If you'd heard what she said to me less than ayear ago--"

  "You make me tired!" interrupted Larry. "You two were made for eachother. She's waiting for you to step up and talk man's talk to her--andinstead you sulk in your tent and mumble about something you think shemight have thought or said a year ago! You're too sensitive; you're tooproud; you've got too few brains. It's a million dollars to one that inyour handsome, well-bred way you've fallen out with her over somethingthat probably never existed and certainly doesn't exist now. Forget itall, and walk right up and ask her!"

  "Larry, if I thought there was a chance that you are right--"

  "A single question will prove whether I'm right!"

  Hunt did not speak for a moment. "I guess I've never seen my part of itall in the way you put it, Larry." He stood up, his whole being subduedyet tense. "I'm going to slide back into town and think it all over."

  Larry followed him an hour later, bent on routine business of theSherwood estate. Toward seven o'clock he was studying the presentdecrepitude and future possibilities of a row of Sherwood apartmenthouses on the West Side, when, as he came out of one building andstarted into another, a firm hand fell upon his shoulder and a voiceremarked:

  "So, Larry, you're in New York?"

  Larry whirled about. For the moment he felt all the life go out of him.Beside him stood Detective Casey, whom he had last seen on the nightof his wild flight when Casey had feigned a knockout in order to aidLarry's escape from Gavegan. Any other man affiliated with his enemiesLarry would have struck down and tried to break away from. But notCasey.

  "Hello, Casey. Well, I suppose you're going to invite me to go alongwith you?"

  "Where were you going?"

  "Into this house."

  "Then I'll invite myself to go along with you."

  He quickly pushed Larry before him into the hallway, which was emptysince all the tenants were at their dinner. Larry remembered the scenedown in Deputy Police Commissioner Barlow's office, when the Chief ofDetectives had demanded that he become a stool-pigeon working underGavegan and Casey, and the grilling and the threats, more thanfulfilled, which had followed.

  "Going to give me a little private quiz first, Casey," he asked, "andthen call in Gavegan and lead me down to Barlow?"

  "Not unless Gavegan or some one else saw and recognized you, whichI know they didn't since I was watching for that very thing. And notunless you yourself feel hungry for a visit to Headquarters."

  "If I feel hungry, it's an appetite I'm willing to make wait."

  "You know I don't want to pinch you. My part in this has been a dirtyjob that was just pushed my way. You know that I know you've been framedand double-crossed, and that I won't run you in unless I can't get outof it."

  "Thanks, Casey. You're too white to have to run with people like Barlowand Gavegan. But if it wasn't to pinch me, why did you stop me out therein the street?"

  "Been hoping I might some day run into you on the quiet. There are somethings I've learned--never mind how--that I wanted to slip you for yourown good."

  "Go to it, Casey."

  "First, I've got a hunch that it was Barney Palmer who tipped off thepolice about Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt, and then spread it amongall the crooks that you were the stool and squealer."

  "Yes, I'd guessed that much."

  "Second, I've got a hunch that it really was from Barney Palmer thatBarlow got his idea of making you become a stool-pigeon. Barney is asmooth one all right, and he figured what would happen. He knew youwould refuse, and he knew Barlow would uncork hell beneath you. Barneycertainly called every turn."

  "What--what--" stammered Larry. "Why, then Barney must be--" He paused,utterly astounded by the newness of the possibility that had just risenin his mind.

  "You've got it, Larry," Casey went on. "Barney is a police stool. Hasbeen one for years. Works directly for Barlow. We're not supposed toknow anything about it. He's turned up a lot of big ones. That's whyit's safe for Barney to pull off anything he likes."

  "Barney a police stool!" Larry repeated in the stupor of his amazement.

  "Guess that's all the news I wanted to hand you, Larry, so I'll be on myway. Here's wishing you luck--and for God's sake, don't let yourself bepinched by us. So-long." And with that Casey slipped out of the hallway.

  For a moment Larry stood moveless where Casey had left him. Then fiercepurpose, and a cautious recklessness, surged up and took mastery of him.It had required what Casey had told him to end his irksome waiting andwavering. No longer could he remain in his hiding-place, safe himself,trying to save Maggie by slow, indirect endeavor. The time had now comefor very different methods. The time had come to step forth into theopen, taking, of course, no unnecessary risk, and to have it out face toface with his enemies, who were also Maggie's real enemies, though shecounted them her friends--to save Maggie against her own will, if hecould save her in no other way.

  And having so decided, Larry walked quickly out of the hallway into thestreet.