The Transgression of Andrew Vane: A Novel

by Guy Wetmore Carryl

  CHAPTER XX.

  THE SHADOW.

  Your most astute strategist is the general ready, at any stage of thecampaign, to authorize a complete change of plan, if the circumstancescall for it, and to make for the end in view along wholly altered lines.The Braddocks of warfare are those who at all hazards persist in thecourse at first laid out.

  Radwalader, contrary to his custom, did not leave his apartment untilmid-afternoon of the following day. He carried a valise, and stopped fora moment on the step to snuff the fresh air with appreciation. Then hesaid "Psst!" and the yellow cab which was standing at the corner of theavenue squeaked into motion and drew up at the kerb.

  "Gare St. Lazare," said Radwalader briefly. He flung his valise upon theseat, climbed in after it, put one foot on the _strapontin_ to steadyhimself, and plunged, with a grin of amusement, into the latest numberof _Le Rire_. He could afford a few moments of sheer frivolity: for hehad just finished eight hours of careful reflection, and his plans werequite complete.

  The driver of the yellow cab had only grunted in reply, but he drovebriskly enough, once they were under way. Though the day was warm, hewore his fawn-coloured coat, with the triple cape, and had turned up thecollar about his ears. His white cockaded hat, a size too large, wastipped forward over his nose, and between it and his coat-collar, in theback, showed a strip of bright red hair. For features, he had a nobblynose, with a purple tinge, and a mustache like a red nail-brush.

  From time to time Radwalader looked up from his reading to remark theirprogress, and invariably he smiled. The Place de l'Etoile, freshlysprinkled, and smelling refreshingly of cool wet wood; the omnibus andtramway stations, with their continual ebb and flow of passengersseeking numbers; the stupendous dignity of the Arc, and the preposterousinsignificance of three Englishwomen staring up at it, with their mouthsopen, and Baedekers in their hands; the fresh green of the chestnuts onthe Avenue de Friedland; the crack of a teamster's whip, and his "_Ahi!Houp!_" of encouragement to the giant gray stallions, toiling up thesteep incline of the Faubourg St. Honore; the crowds of women at FelixPotin's, pinching the fat fowls, and stowing parcels away in nettedbags; the "shish-shish-shish" of an infantry company shuffling athalf-step toward the gateway of La Pepiniere; the people _terrasse_before the restaurants on the Place du Havre--it was all very amusing,very characteristic, very _Parigot_. More than ever, Radwalader feltthat he needed it all, that he must have it at any price, that lifewould not be worth living else or elsewhere. Fortunately, there was noreason for a change, so long as he kept his wits. Indeed his prospectswere brighter now than they had ever been.

  Once a bridal carriage whirled past him, all windows, and with a lamp ateach corner, and a red-faced quartette inside; and other carriagesfollowed, full of exultant guests, whose full-dress costumes, in thisbroad daylight, were, to his Saxon sense, as incongruous as a Welshrabbit on a breakfast-table--all bowling across to the Champs, and soaway to the Restaurant Gillet. Again, it was a glimpse of a funeralmoving up to a side door of St. Augustin, with an abject little band ofmourners trailing along on foot, behind the black and purple car; again,nothing more than a sally between an _agent_ and a ragamuffin at acrossing--"_Ouste, galopin!_" "_Eh, 'spece de balai! As-tu vu laferme?_"--or a driver's injunction to his horse--"_Tu prends doncracine, saucisse_"--or a girl's laugh, or the squawk of a tram-horn, orthe cries of the _camelots_--"_Voyez l'Parispor! Voici la Pa-resse!Voyez l'D-rrr-oi 'd'l'homme!_" The importance of the phenomenon was notsignificant. It was all Paris, and Thomas Radwalader was very glad to bealive. When he left the yellow cab in the Cour du Havre, the driver hadfifty centimes _pourboire_, though it was not like his passengers to gobeyond three sous.

  Trivial as this circumstance was, it apparently had a strangelydemoralizing effect upon the driver of the yellow cab. He drew on forperhaps twenty feet, and then deliberately clambered down from his box,and followed his late _client_ to the ticket office, at the foot of theeastern stairway. Here, with some ingenuity, he remarked, "_Memechose_."

  "Poissy _premiere_?"

  "_Oui._"

  In the first-class carriage of the Poissy train, a little, oblong paneof glass, above Radwalader's head, enabled him, had he been so minded,to glance into the next compartment--enabled the single occupant of thenext compartment, who _was_ so minded, to glance, as they started, intohis.

  In the Cour du Havre an infuriated _agent_ apostrophized the desertedvehicle:

  "_Sale sous-les-pieds!_ He amuses himself elsewhere, then, _ton drole!_"

  The which was strictly true.

  As the train rumbled through the illuminated tunnel, the driver of theyellow cab did a number of things with the most surprising rapidity anddecision. He threw his varnished white hat out of the window, andfollowed it immediately with his triple-caped overcoat. He stripped offhis fawn-coloured trousers, thereby revealing the unusual circumstancethat he wore two pairs--one of corduroy. The latter hurtled out into thesmoky tunnel, in the wake of the hat and coat, and the climax was cappedby a like disappearance of the red hair, the nail-brush mustache, andthe nobbly nose. Then Monsieur Jules Vicot smoothed his workman'sblouse, dragged a Tam-o'-shanter from his pocket, pulled it down overhis eyes, settled the scarlet handkerchief at his throat, threw himselfback on the cushions, and lit a cigarette with hands that trembledexcessively.

  At Poissy Radwalader alighted, and swung rapidly away, across the_place_, in the direction of the Villa Rossignol. At Poissy the otheralso alighted, strolled over to the Hotel de Rouen, and, in the companyof a slowly consumed _matelote_ and four successive absinthes, dozed,pondered, smoked--and waited for the dark.

  That morning Margery and Andrew had told Mrs. Carnby. For an instant thegood lady faced Andrew, her eyes blazing with inquiry. He met theirchallenge serenely.

  "Won't you congratulate me," he asked, smiling--"and the only girl inthe world?"

  "The _only_ girl in the world?" demanded Mrs. Carnby audaciously.

  "Yes--just that."

  Mrs. Carnby pounced upon Margery.

  "Of _course_ I congratulate you! You dear! And, as for _you_," sheadded, whirling upon Andrew once more, "you're the luckiest man Iknow--except Jeremy! And you've worried me almost into a decline. Ithought you'd never get her--I mean, I thought she'd never get you--Idon't know _what_ I mean, Andrew Vane! Go along in, both of you, andsing about your roses and jugs of wine and nightingales and moons ofdelight. I can see that's all you'll be good for, from now on!"

  And so, shamelessly, they did--all over again, from "Wake! for the Sun"to "flown again, who knows!"

  "It's tied up in double bow-knots with our hearts, all this 'PersianGarden' music," said Andrew. "Do you remember how we used to rave overit at Beverly? And I loved you even then--from the first night."

  Standing behind him, Margery touched his hair.

  And so evening came again, drenched in starlight and rose-perfume, andstirring rapturously to the voice of the nightingale.

  "I want to speak to you."

  Radwalader touched Andrew's arm as they rose from the table, and led theway directly through the open window into the garden, and, through thegarden gate, into the Avenue Meissonier beyond. Once there, he fell backa step, so that they were side by side.

  "Let's walk toward the river," he suggested, taking Andrew's arm.

  A single lamp swung at the archway of the railroad bridge, but along thevilla walls and under the trees of the Boulevard de la Seine beyond, theshadows were very dark. Once, as they passed a poplar, one shadowdisengaged itself from the trunk, and at a distance followed them. Alittle ahead was the gaily illuminated terrace of L'Esturgeon,overhanging the river, and crowded with people dining and talking all atonce.

  "I saw Mirabelle yesterday," observed Radwalader. "It seems you're offscot-free."

  "Did _she_ tell you that?" asked Andrew in surprise.

  "No--only that you'd parted company for good and all. I guessed therest. I thought you'd hardly be so foolish as not to consult me, if thequestion of money came u
p."

  "Thank the Lord, the episode was free from _that_ element of vulgarity,at all events!" exclaimed Andrew. "Yes, it's over. It wasn't easy,Radwalader. I was surprised to find how much she thought of me. But, ofcourse, there was nothing else to do. In any event, the thing couldn'thave gone on for ever, and when I heard about that telegram, I couldn'tring down the curtain too soon. But it hurt. Poor little girl! I'llalways think kindly of her, Radwalader, although she came near to losingme the only thing in the world that's worth while. Well, we saidgood-by, and I came down here just on the chance that it mightn't be toolate. It was a thin-enough chance, to my way of thinking, in view of thepast three weeks. By Gad, here was I deserving the worst kind of awigging that ever a man got, and lo and behold, it was the prodigal sonafter all! Mrs. Carnby was the first to congratulate me. Will you be thenext?"

  "Do you mean that Miss Palffy is going to marry you?" asked Radwalader,coming to a full stop.

  "Just that," said Andrew; "though why she should, after all this--"

  "Oh, rot!" laughed the other. "You've been no worse than other men, andso long as you've owned up--"

  "We'll never agree on the question of whether I deserve her or not," putin Andrew. "Never in the whole course of my life shall I forgive myselfthis folly. But we won't talk of that. The fact remains that I'mforgiven, and that she's going to marry me. Oh, _Gawd_!"

  He looked up at the sky and bit his lip. He was desperately shy ofslopping over, and, for a moment, desperately near to it.

  Presently he continued. They had rounded L'Esturgeon now, and werewalking along the southern side of the Pont de Poissy, close to therail. Radwalader's pieces were all in place for the opening of the newgame.

  "When a chap's only been pulled out of a horrible mess by the merestchance, and when, into the bargain, he's been engaged to theone-and-only for something under twenty-four hours, he is apt to doconsiderable slobbering. I hope you'll give me credit for sparing youall I _might_ say, Radwalader, when I confine myself to saying that I'min luck."

  "And that, you most certainly are," said Radwalader cheerfully. "I'mglad you're so well out of your scrape, Vane, and I congratulate youheartily." A pressure of his fingers on Andrew's arm lent the phrase theemphasis of a hand-shake. "Miss Palffy is charming--so clean andstraight, and, to say nothing of her beauty, with such high standards.To be quite frank with you, I'm a bit surprised that you got off soeasily. But, since you have, there's nothing to be said, except thatshe's a stunner, and I can understand now how much all this has meant toyou. What a thing to have standing between you, eh? If Mirabelle _had_been ugly, I fancy you'd have paid her about anything she chose to ask."

  "If I'd been _sure_ of getting Margery!" said Andrew.

  "Of course--yes. That's what I mean. With Miss Palffy as an object,there could scarcely be a limit to the hush-money one would put up toclear away any obstacles that might exist."

  "I expect not," said Andrew nervously. "I couldn't lose her now--Isimply couldn't. It would kill me."

  "I once knew of such a case," said Radwalader musingly. "Chap just aboutto marry the girl, and he found out that there was something verycrooked about his birth--that he was illegitimate, in fact. The fatherhung on to him like an octopus and bled him like a leech. Butthe--er--girl never knew."

  "It was worth it to him," commented Andrew, "if he'd have lost the girlelse."

  "I've forgotten what he paid," said Radwalader, "but I know it waspretty stiff--in the form of a regular allowance by the year."

  "Was the chap rich?" asked Andrew. He was looking down the river, andtaking great breaths of the delicious night air, thrilling with thememory of Margery waiting back there for him; and his part in theconversation was little more than automatic.

  "Reasonably," said Radwalader. "Enough to stand the strain. Curious oldhouse, this--isn't it?"

  He paused, and leaned upon the railing of the bridge.

  "The plaster's rotten as possible," answered Andrew after a moment,during which he had been hacking boyishly at it with his knife.

  "You know both sides of the bridge were lined with houses once," saidRadwalader. "Picturesque it must have been! This is the only one left,and it doesn't look as if it could keep from toppling over into theriver very much longer. Lord! how fast the water runs down there! It's averitable mill-race. I shouldn't care to have to swim against it."

  He hesitated deliberately, and then continued, with a slight change oftone:

  "There's something I want to tell you, Vane. I didn't care to botheryou with it as long as you were worrying on your own account, butnow--confidence for confidence. The fact of the matter is that I needmoney, and need it badly."

  Andrew pursued his hacking.

  "If that's all that's troubling you," he said, "I can probably make youa loan that will tide you over. I'll be very glad to, if I can. How muchdo you need?"

  A workman slouched past them, his hands in the pockets of his corduroytrousers, his tam o' shanter pulled down over his eyes.

  "No," said Radwalader, "I don't want to borrow; I might never be able torepay. But suppose I were to give you a piece of information--atip--that was of the very greatest importance to you, mightn't it beworth a small sum?"

  Andrew stared at him curiously.

  "I don't understand," he said. "Do you mean that you know something thatis very important to me?"

  "Vastly important."

  "And that is known to no one else?"

  "To one other person only."

  "And that you want to _sell_ to me?"

  "That I want to _tell_ you. You can do as you see fit about paying mefor it. I think you will, but if not--"

  He smiled evilly, secure of the darkness.

  "There are other ways of utilizing it," he added.

  Andrew chopped thoughtfully at the plaster.

  "I don't seem to understand what you're driving at," he said presently,"but, somehow--well, I don't like the sound of it, Radwalader. Ofcourse, I know you don't mean it that way, but it sounds rather--ratherunfriendly, if you'll allow me to say so. Oh, _damn_ it all!"

  "What?" asked Radwalader, surprised at the sudden exclamation.

  "There goes my knife. I ought to have known better than to hew at thisstuff with it. I suppose that's the last I shall ever see of it--and anew one, too. Why--that's queer! Did you notice? There wasn't anysplash."

  He peered over the rail.

  "Hello!" he added, "here's a ladder--leading down."

  "There's a little garden down there," explained Radwalader, peering overin his turn. "I remember now. It's on part of the foundations of anotherold house, and the chap who lives in this one grows flowers there, oddlyenough, and goes up and down on the ladder. Your knife's down there,somewhere. Jove! but it's dark!"

  But Andrew already had one leg across the railing, one foot on the topround of the ladder.

  "This is easy," he said, "and I have my match-box, too. You see--well,Margery bought the knife only this morning in the bazar, and I wouldn'tlose it for the world. And, by the way, Radwalader, forget what I saidjust now, will you? It wasn't very decent."

  Then, with a short laugh of embarrassment, he descended into theshadows.

  The shadows! They were very deep below there, until broken by theflicker of Andrew's match. Then the shadows under the doorway of the oldhouse, up by the top of the bridge, were deeper, and--what wasthis?--one shadow moved--moved--drew near to the man who leaned upon therail, whistling "Au Clair de la Lune."

  "All right!" called Andrew. "I have it. Now we come up again."

  "Go slow," advised Radwalader. "You'll find it darker than ever, afterthe match. Why--what--"

  A hand on his shoulder had spun him round, but he had no more thanrecognized the white face grinning into his, no more than time tocomprehend the words, "You've whistled for the last time, by God!"before the steel-shod butt of a revolver crashed three times insuccession on--and through--his forehead.

  "_Once for me!_" said Jules Vicot, between his teeth, "_and once
for mywife, and once for your son!_"

  He hurled Radwalader from him, ran a few feet, turned at the rail to seethe smitten man writhing and groping blindly on the cobbles of thedriveway, and then, emptying the entire contents of the revolver in hisdirection, vaulted with a laugh into the swirling Seine below.

  The guilty river caught him, hid him, hurried him away. Only once hemoved of his own volition, and then she laid her brown hand on his mouthand stilled him, once for all. Around the wide curves of her course, hewas to go, through the thrashing locks of Les Mureaux and Notre Dame dela Garenne, past Les Andelys and Pont de l'Arche, and the high quays ofElbeuf, and the twinkling lights of Rouen, and the vineyards and thepoplars and the red-roofed villages--on, on, on, to where the lights ofLe Havre and Honfleur wink, each to each, across the widened channel.For such was the course appointed whereby the most pitiful shadow thatever fell from Poissy Bridge should make its way to sea.

  Back there was the sound of many voices and of running feet. Radwaladerlay with his head on Andrew's arm, his eyes closed, and his breathcoming in short hard gasps. The first arrivals from the town were threeyoung Englishmen, who had been dining at L'Esturgeon, were on their wayto the station, and outran all others at the sound of the five shots.One of them proved to be a medical student, and fell at once to makingan examination, while the others held back the crowd.

  "How did it happen?" he asked. "What was it all about?"

  "God knows!" said Andrew. "I'd been down the ladder there to look for aknife I'd dropped, and I was just coming up again when I heard him callout, and then a scuffle and the sound of blows, and then the firing. Ithink whoever shot him jumped into the river. There was a big splashjust as I came up to the level of the bridge."

  "Yes," said the other. "We heard that from the street, just as westarted to run. God! how that blackguard piled it on! Look here--hishead's all pushed in, and he's shot in at least two places. I'm afraidthe poor chap's done for. Hello! he's coming to."

  Radwalader slowly opened his eyes, and after a moment seemed striving tospeak. Andrew bent down, wiping away the blood.

  "What is it?" he asked. "Is there something you want to say, dear oldman?"

  Without replying, Radwalader glanced eloquently at the Englishman, and,at this mute signal, the latter stepped back.

  "What is it?" whispered Andrew. "Do you want to tell us who it was?"

  Radwalader shook his head.

  "Is it what you were going to tell me a few minutes ago?" asked Andrew,with a kind of intuition.

  For a full half-minute, the dying man's eyes were fixed upon the eager,solicitous face that bent so close to his--upon the earnest eyes socuriously like and yet unlike his own, upon the white teeth showingbetween the parted lips, upon the straight patrician nose and the smoothclear complexion. Then, with a singular smile, a smile almostaffectionate in its sweetness:

  "It's of no consequence now," he murmured.

  He raised one hand, and gently touched Andrew on the cheek.

  "Good-by, my boy," he added, more feebly.

  His head fell limply, and he shuddered once, and then was very still.

  A moment later, Andrew laid him back upon the driveway, and covered hisface.

  THE END.

  [Transcriber's notes: Italics changed to _Italics_. Some inconsistent spellings and hyphenations have been retained.]