The Professor's Mystery
Page 5
CHAPTER V
BESIDE THE SUMMER SEA: AN INTERLUDE
If I had been at my wits' end before, I was now beyond it, in such achaos of puzzled anger that I could not even think reasonably, much lesscome to sensible conclusions. The Italian sailor with his impossiblecharge against Mr. Tabor's own impossible charge against me, were newelements which might or might not work into the situation; but at leastI could not place them now; nor, for want of a motive that would beardissection, was I ready to confess my own desire to stay on the grounduntil I had seen the matter through. I would go away to the sanity ofthe seaside, and give the vexations of the last few days time to clear.The whole experience had been so strange that I must have moreperspective through which to view it clearly; and I could see nothing togain by haste. For all that, I was perfectly clear that at lengtheverything must come out right. Not that I could define to myselfexactly what "coming out right" would mean, except making Mr. Taboradmit himself outrageously mistaken, and his daughter--but it was betternot to think about his daughter; unless I was ready to risk thinking toomuch about her. The very memory of her vivid face in the car-window, ofher quizzical impertinences on the way, the sight of her lyingmotionless in the unnatural meadow, and most poignant of all, herdistressed and shrouded beauty in the dim hall, lit up the last fewhours as with the glamour of a dream broken suddenly by a nightmaremonstrous and unconvincing. She must be put aside if possible with therest until I could see clearly. Bob Ainslie and Mrs. Bob, boating,bathing, golf, and tennis, should be my devouring interests for the nextweek. After that--we should see.
For a couple of miles my car traveled through open country; then withthe Sound on its left, passed through small wooded patches that gave waycontinually to open glades where lawns from little cottages and greatran down to the water's edge. My destined hostelry, I remembered,flourished under the original name of "Bellevue." I did not especiallypine for it, with its green-lined matting, white enameled furniture, andchattering piazzas; but it had the unquestionable advantage of beingonly a couple of hundred yards from the Ainslies' cottage. There Ihurried into my flannels and set forth in search of Bob, whom I foundplaying the gentle game of croquet with himself, the pink ball againstthe green. When he saw me, he gave a viking whoop that brought Mrs.Ainslie from her chair upon the veranda, while he executed a solemnwar-dance around me.
"Where, O where are the Hebrew children?" he chanted, "Safe now in thepromised land--where's your bag?"
"Why, how do you do, Mr. Crosby?" said Mrs. Ainslie. "Bob, what on earthwill the neighbors think of you? And Mr. Crosby will hardly like beingcalled a Hebrew--not that I have anything against the Hebrews. They arereally a very fine people, but--"
"But, my dear, you are talking nonsense. Laurie, where is that bag? OrHeaven grant it be a trunk."
"It's a bag," I said, "and I left it in my room at the Bellevue, and avery good room it is."
"Bellefiddlesticks," Bob snorted. "You go back to that whitedcaravansary and wrest away your belongings and come over here. We aregoing to house-party in a couple of days, and we need you in ourbusiness. Your room is now southeast corner second floor, beautiful viewof the Sound or within sound of the view--whichever you please."
"You are an idiot, but I love you," said I. "Nevertheless, I'm going tostay where I am. Can't be bothered with house parties. I came down herefor some exercise."
"I think you look tired," Mrs. Ainslie put in thoughtfully.
"He looks sulky to me," said Bob. "All right, stay where you are untilyou feel the need of a decent bed. Bet I can beat you at croquet andgive you two wickets."
"You are a fattening, indolent person," I said. "What I want, and whatyou stand in crying need of, is exercise," and I dragged him off to thehotel tennis-courts.
I was very sure in my own mind that I wanted the scuffling solitude of ahotel. My temper felt unsettled, and the last people in the world Iwanted to meet were a lot of conversational visitors. Bob had a hardfuture cut out for him, and indeed for three days I led him a life thatmust have nearly killed him. Perhaps he may have scented some troublebehind my unusual energy, for he stuck to me like a man losing to me attennis, beating me in long games of golf, bathing with me in themorning, and taking an oar as we rowed Mrs. Bob about in the evening.
Miss Tabor had spoken of a coming visit; but of course after thedisturbances in her home she would have abandoned all plans. And Icertainly did not care to start the bantering flood of questions which Iknew Bob could not restrain should I show even the mildest curiosityabout her coming. And yet she came. I had come over prepared to drag Bobto the altar of another strenuous day, and I found her sitting alone onthe veranda as quietly at ease as though nothing had happened. I was noteven sure that she looked tired; certainly she looked serene. She stoodup and shook hands with me smilingly. I thought the blue veins throbbeda trifle in her throat, but her manner was frankly free fromembarrassment.
"You are getting a very seaside color, Mr. Crosby," she said. "Yourvacation must be agreeing with you."
I could not answer for a moment; then, as she drew her hand from mine,"What have I done?" I stammered. "What was it all about? Did you tooreally believe--"
I stopped, for she was looking coldly past me, her face blank and hereyebrows raised.
"I beg your pardon," I said, taken utterly aback. Her silence seemed tostrike across me like a blow. "I beg your pardon, Miss Tabor," and Iswung upon my heel.
When I reached the steps, she called after me.
"Mr. Crosby!" I turned. "Bob wants to know why we shouldn't all playtennis together. He thinks that he and Mary can beat us."
I stood amazed. She was looking at me gaily, almost provokingly, everytrace of coldness gone from the eyes that looked frankly into mine. Shemoved mentally too fast for me. I could read nothing but the end of ourfriendship in her look of a moment ago; and now she spoke as if noshadow of mystery or misunderstanding had ever fallen between us. Ofcourse, the surface of it was that I had blundered, and that she hadtaken the only way of showing me that my memories of her trouble must bereally forgotten. The last few days were never to have been.
The Ainslies came out of the door together. "And you never told us thatyou had met Miss Tabor last Christmas," said Bob. "I call that rathercool. I just mentioned you last night, and she asked all sorts ofquestions about how long you had been here and how long you expected tostay. For my part, I think you must have made quite an impression."
"Indeed he has," laughed Miss Tabor. "Do you know, Mary, Mr. Crosby isthe only thoroughly frivolous institution of learning I ever saw. Henever spoke a word all Christmas that added to the party's fund ofinformation, except to tell us of a new and a more indigestible way tomake Welsh rarebit."
Evidently Christmas was to be the last and only time that we had met. Ithanked fate and my own discomfiture that I had let fall no word to theAinslies and we went off to our tennis. We won our game rather easily.Miss Tabor played a shade better than the average woman, covering hercourt with a forethoughtful ease that did the work without wastingexertion. She seemed not athletic, but to do outdoor things as someother woman might move through a ball-room. When we had finishedplaying, Bob was a dripping ruin, and Mrs. Ainslie and I vigorouslyhot; but Miss Tabor, who had done no less than her share, laid aside herracquet as coolly as she had taken it up.
All the way down to the beach she kept the three of us in such a shoutof laughter that staider people glanced aside at us. I made the changeinto a bathing-suit with abandoned haste, yet I found her waiting. Thesea was evidently a passion with her as it was with me. Her eyes wereshining with excitement, her head thrown a little back, and all her slimbody, tender in every graceful line, was vibrant with the thrill of thesalt air. She gave me her hand as a child might have done, and we turnedup the beach, running lightly until the voices of the bathers diedbehind us.
Suddenly she stopped. "Do you feel that way about it, too?" she asked.
"What way? As if the first plunge of the year were a sort of sa
credrite?"
"Yes," she answered. "There is something about it--you feel as if itwere such a splendid thing that after all your waiting for it--now, whenthe water is there before you, you must wait a little sacrificialmoment. I didn't feel like going in just at the first among all thosepeople. Do you understand what I mean? I suppose it's because on thefirst day I have always gone in alone early in the morning."
I nodded, for that had been my custom also. Without a word we turnedtogether and went slowly down into the water. When it reached her waist,she threw her hands above her head and dived, swimming under water withlong easy strokes. I looked after her a moment, then followed. We cameto the surface together, drawing our breath deep and shaking the saltwater from our eyes. We swam slowly back to the more crowded beach,mutually glorying in our pagan rite of baptism.
We stretched out lazily in the hot sand, leaning back against a batteredand upturned dory. Lady had shaken down her hair, which her bathing caphad failed to keep altogether dry; and spread it lustrously dark uponthe clean, sun-bleached planking.
"I think I understand you now a little better, Mr. Crosby," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I suppose because of the solemn rite of the first plunge. It somehowmakes you clearer. If that is what you mean by romance, why I can agreewith you."
I had to be honest. "No, that's not all I mean--only part. I wantthings to happen to me, not merely sensations. I'm always foolishlyexpecting some tilt with fortune at the next turn of the road. I supposeyou were right that nothing much has happened to me, or I shouldn't huntso for the physical uplift of the unexpected. I don't want to be merelyselfish--I want to help in the world, not to harm. I know that soundscrudely sentimental, but it's hard to say. I mean, for instance, that Idon't want distress to prove myself against, but I do want the shock ofbattle where distress exists."
"Then people must seem to you merely means to an end."
"I suppose it must look that way to you"]
"I suppose it must look that way to you," I said uncomfortably. "I'mgetting tangled, but I want you to understand--" I hesitated. "When Iasked questions in the hurry of the other night, it wasn't any desire toforce my way into things that didn't concern me, to make an adventure ofwhat distressed you--you mustn't think that. But it seemed to me thatyou were in trouble, and I wanted--"
I stopped, for her face had clouded as I spoke until now I dared speakno more, blaming myself that the perplexities that possessed me hadagain blundered across her pain. Her eyes were upon the ground whereher fingers burrowed absently in the sand. When she raised them to minethere were tears in them; but they were tears unshed, and eyes thatlooked at me kindly.
"Please don't," she said. "I do understand. I would like to let youhelp, but--there is nothing you can help about, nothing that I can askor tell."
"Forgive me," I said, and looked away from her.
I think that from that morning we were better friends. Neither of usagain made any allusion to the night of alarm; but it was as if both nowfelt a share in it, a kind of blindfold sympathy not altogethercomfortless. Once when we were making a long tour of woods and beaches,she said suddenly: "You don't talk much about yourself, Mr. Crosby."
"Don't I?" I answered. "Well, I don't suppose that what I am or havedone in the world would be particularly interesting. You were right theother day, after all: nothing much has happened to me, or I shouldn't beso hungry for adventures."
"Oh, but you must have had some adventure; everybody has."
I launched into a tale of a green parrot confiscated from an itinerantvendor and sold at auction in a candy store. I stopped suddenly. Wasthis her way of verifying her father's opinion of me? She read myhalf-formed suspicion like a flash.
"Listen," she said with quick seriousness. "If I had, or could have, thefaintest belief in anything really bad about you, don't you see that Ishouldn't be here? I want you to remember that."
"I ought to have known," I replied. "I'm very sorry."
With that she swung back into gaiety, demanding the conclusion of thetale; but I was for the moment too deeply touched to follow. We were onour way home; and before us where the path took a little turn about atree larger than its neighbors, a man stepped into our sight. He waswalking fast, covering the ground in long nervous strides. He carried abit of stick with which he switched smartly at the bushes along thepath. For a moment we were both silent, then Lady caught her breath in along sigh. It was the man we had met at the gate. He saw us then, andtook off his hat.
"Why, Walter," Lady cried; "when did you come?"
"Just now," he said, "just now. Ainslie told me where to look for you.Good fellow, Ainslie. Said you and Mr. What's-his-name--beg pardon, Inever can remember names--said you had gone for a walk."
She flushed a little. "Mr. Crosby, let me introduce Doctor Reid. Hismemory never can catch up with him, but you mustn't mind that. Walter,Mr. Crosby was a classmate of Bob Ainslie's, you know."
"So he said; so he said." Doctor Reid jerked out the words, frowning andbiting his forefinger. "Excuse me, Lady, but--hold on a second. Got togo back next car, twelve forty-five." He looked at his watch. "Twelveseven now. Beg your pardon, Mr.--Mr. Crosby. Beg your pardon."
They spoke together for a moment, and we continued our walkuncomfortably. Miss Tabor seemed uneasy, and I thought that Doctor Reidrestrained himself to our slower pace as if he resented having to waitand thought ill of me for my very existence. I caught him frowningsidelong at me once or twice, and shooting little anxious glances atLady that angered me unreasonably.
I left them at the Ainslies' and went on to a hurried luncheon madetasteless by irritation. Who in Heaven's name was the man? A familyphysician would hardly go running about the country in the daughter'swake--for I could not doubt that it was she that had brought him here.Why on earth should he be rude to me? I had never met the man. Whatbusiness had he to behave as if he resented my being with her--or forthat matter, to resent anything she did? We had planned a game of tennisfor the afternoon, and Doctor Reid, I reflected, with savagesatisfaction, could hardly be expected to make a third.
Bob met me at the door. "Hello, old man," he said, "we have had a bitterloss; Doctor Reid has carried Lady off with him to his distant lair."