Happiness Hill

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “But they have made one mistake,” said Jane. “They need another window on that other side. The wall is not well balanced.”

  “Yes?” said Sherwood. “So they did. Why shouldn’t we leave them a note telling them so?”

  And whimsically he wrote on a page of his notebook. “This space should have a window like the others,” and signed his initials, J.S., pinning the paper on the wall with a large nail.

  But they had to hurry away, and Sherwood caught her hand laughing and helped her down the crude ladderlike steps to the ground.

  The spring was really come at last. Preparations for the golden anniversary of the firm were well in hand. Rumor had it now that the new partner of the firm was a mere boy and was coming from Boston, while still other rumors said that the “silent” partner was contending for his nephew Harold to have the place.

  Sherwood said little about it, and Jane sensed that he had some reason to keep his lips closed. His duties had probably made it necessary that he should know something of what was going on. She respected him only the more for it and said nothing. Though she had very little chance to say anything to him these days, for they both were kept amazingly busy and were dog weary when night came. Also the weather was growing warmer and the air was often most enervating.

  One day Jane came on Sherwood gathering up papers from his desk, a great armful of them.

  “I’m moving at last,” he said with a grin. “I guess my promotion must be coming pretty soon.”

  “Will that mean a better salary?” she asked interestedly.

  “Well, I should hope so,” said the young man wearily. “I certainly would like to get where I didn’t have to count every cent this way.”

  “Congratulations then, but I hope you’ll snap out of all this hard work pretty soon. Tom has been complaining that he never sees you anymore.”

  “He can’t miss me any more than I miss you all,” he answered with his bright smile.

  “You won’t forget you’re booked for the little old cottage down at Lynn Haven this summer, will you? You won’t let anything hinder your going there, will you?”

  “Not if I can help it,” he said eagerly, “not weekends, anyway.”

  Then Miss Tenney, hawkeyed, ambled toward them with a letter, which she professed to be unable to understand, and Minnick entered the office from the corridor, eyeing them sharply and they drifted apart suddenly.

  It seemed to Jane that Minnick was everywhere these days, always appearing just in time to hear what one was saying. She noticed that he followed Sherwood especially, and watched him, and once she almost thought of warning Sherwood, only there seemed to be no chance.

  Once she went to Dulaney’s office with a telegram, for the boy was waiting for an answer. Sherwood was sitting there with Dulaney and Gates and Halstead, and Harold Dulaney sat sullenly off at one side. It looked like some kind of conference, and Sherwood had a pencil and pad in his hand. Were they thinking of making him confidential secretary? That ought to bring him a pretty good salary, but there wasn’t so much promise for the future in a job like that. Still—

  As Jane entered the room she heard the elder Dulaney ask, “What time did you say that was, Sherwood?” And Sherwood referred to his pad and answered promptly, “About two in the morning.” Harold Dulaney made an impatient motion and a noise like a snarl.

  Jane went out of the room more disturbed than she would admit to herself, and was not helped by the sight of Minnick in the inner office with his ear pressed to the glass of the partition listening. Minnick did not seem to realize that she could see him. What could be going on?

  Finally the time arrived. The invitations were all sent out, and the rush of clerical work was over.

  There was to be a big banquet in the large office on the fourth floor, and all the employees of the company were invited. There were engraved invitations and a galaxy of golden bells across the top of the invitation.

  Two days beforehand men arrived and moved all the desks on the fourth floor over to the far end behind a great seven- foot partition of ground glass, known as the storage room, and here what desk work was necessary had to be transacted under difficulties. Out in the main office trestles were being set up and long tables made to form a hollow square. The elevator was kept busy bringing up folding chairs, which were stacked in rows against the wall. The girls who ordinarily worked at the desks out in the main office were busy now twisting long garlands and streamers of fringed gold paper to festoon the room, and some of the men were putting them up. It was like a beehive, and everybody excited. Jane could hardly muster her forces to attend to the regular mail of the day.

  The storeroom to which their desks had been moved was divided into two parts by a glass partition. The desks were in the one to the right, and into the other the caterer began to bring dishes and stack them on long tables. It was a noisy place to work, and Jane had hard work to concentrate, the more so as she was continually annoyed by Minnick coming in and out as if he were looking for someone.

  Jane went out alone for lunch at noon. She had no mind to listen to the gossip of the other girls. She had a headache and wished the day were over. What was it all about anyway, all this fuss and work just to celebrate an old firm and fifty years? Well, one day more and they could get the room to rights again and get down to real work. Would it bring any relief to Sherwood? she wondered.

  Late in the afternoon Mr. Dulaney sent for her and gave her some special dictation, which he wanted sent out that evening. It had had to wait for specifications that had not arrived till then, but came with a demand for haste. The bids must be made, the prices looked up and verified in every case. Jane knew that Mr. Dulaney had given her this job because he knew he could trust her to be sure about every item. It meant a lot of work, and she was tired.

  The great outer room had taken on an air of festivity. Gold festoons were everywhere. A great gold coat of arms on a field of blue, the insignia of the Dulaneys, arrived and was set up over the partitions of the inner office where it would shine down, electrically lit, above the heads of the firm while they sat at the table. Gold vases were huddled in readiness for daffodils that were to arrive tomorrow, gold wall baskets hung at intervals between the festoons on the wall. They were to contain narcissi, so announced Miss Tenney in loud tones, having consulted the florist and the caterer who had been in conference that afternoon while she twisted gold paper trailers.

  “And I heard just now—I don’t know if it’s so,” Jane could hear the Tenney clarion voice on its way to the five o’clock elevator, “but I shouldn’t wonder if it’s true, that the oldest Dulaney, the ‘silent’ one, is to be here tomorrow night. They say the doctor has given permission for him to come, and it’s the first time in five years that he’s been up here, but he will come!”

  Jane sat down at her desk, which had been placed a little to the left of the door to the main office. The door opened left and outward. It was set in the corner of the room, corresponding to the door on the other side of the middle partition that opened right, so that when the two doors were closed they had the appearance of a double door and gave dignity to that end of the main office. But now both doors were standing open, making a sort of entrance or ante room. An electrician had been wiring and arranging a light to hang over the far end of the room by the iron sink for the caterers’ use and had just finished. The breeze from the open window swung it back and forth casting strange writhing shadows on the ground glass opposite Jane’s desk.

  There was no light in the room where Jane was working, but one of the great ceiling lights was just overhead outside the partition and gave plenty of light for her to work by. Her fingers flew over the papers she was filling in, and her work was almost completed when she saw Sherwood come out of one of the offices at the far end of the big room, draw up a chair, and sit down at a banquet table with his papers and a pen. Then he wasn’t through yet. She watched him an instant as he bent over his work. How tired he looked! Her heart went out to him. She be
gan to puzzle again over what could be going on. Would tomorrow night reveal anything, or was he still to be kept to this grind?

  The big room was very still. The last elevator load of employees had gone down. It was half past six by the great clock at the far end of the room. Jane’s back ached. She closed her tired eyes for a minute, and when she opened them again she saw a shadow move slowly, cautiously, across the ground glass partition straight in front of her. It was a wavering shadow because of the light that still swayed back and forth on its temporary cord. To her weary vision it seemed like some fantastic Halloween trick as it came on steadily, moving the length of the partition from the back. And yet there was not the slightest sound.

  Suddenly Jane was alert, alive, tense to the tip of her senses, for the shadow drew a little nearer to the partition and was more clearly defined. The face was Minnick’s. Sharp, grim, forbidding, stealthy, undoubtedly Minnick’s.

  Jane sat with bated breath, not daring to move. What was Minnick doing there, moving along so silently? Watching Sherwood again! But why? She must find out.

  Minnick had reached the doorway now. The mahogany post that held the glass partition in place hid a part of his sharp nose and the cruel curve of his lip, but she could see the back of his neck crouch and stiffen. What—what was he doing?

  As she watched in horror, something sinister and gleaming came slowly out the doorway, slowly, slowly, and cold fright gripped Jane’s heart. That was a gun!

  Chapter 19

  Jane was not familiar with guns, but she knew instinctively that the small dark thing in that shadow hand was a gun, and now she could see the hand, stealing out farther, rising a little, pointing— pointing—getting a true aim! And Sherwood was out there, unconscious of it all. What could she do? Could she scream? No, that might only precipitate the shot. Could she get to her feet? They seemed made of stone and weighted. But, Sherwood!

  Jane’s shoes had rubber heels, and Jane’s feet were very light. Her whole body suddenly took on lightness. Just as that sinister point came to a steady place, and waited, and quite came to a halt, she managed to slide from her seat and spring. She never knew how she did it, all in one motion, to throw that pen far from her and grasp the menacing hand that held the weapon.

  Whether she made any noise in her going she never knew. It was as if she silently, grimly hurled herself through space before the gun could go off. Simultaneously with her grasping that hand, the shot rang out. All she knew was that she must hold on and that the man she was holding was striking her wildly trying to get away. It was a silent struggle between the man and the girl. Her onslaught had been so sudden, so unheralded, and her hold on his wrist so desperate that he slipped and down they went, rolling frantically together on the floor, still silent, as if each felt that the success of his battle depended on no one hearing!

  Then Jane was dimly aware of footsteps and of Sherwood standing above her, aware of Minnick’s curses as he struggled on the floor near her, his wrists and ankles bound with a fine white handkerchief and Sherwood’s beautiful blue silk tie.

  Some of the men from the floor below had rushed upstairs at the sound of the shot and were entering the office. Jane scrambled to her feet and put up her hand to her hair, which was in wild confusion. She tried to steady herself by holding to the door frame. Halstead came unexpectedly from the inner office, as did Dulaney. She thought they had gone long ago!

  There lay Minnick, his shifty eyes looking from side to side, writhing in his bonds, and there was the pistol far away. Somebody hurried to the telephone standing on the end of the banquet table. It all looked strange and unnatural, the garish gilt vases, the paper festoons, the light glancing from the great golden coat of arms on the blue field, and Minnick at bay.

  “What does all this mean?” asked Dulaney, coming slowly forward, his kind eyes stern, his pointed gray beard looking silver in the brightness of the high-powered lights overhead, his hair tossed down over a tired forehead.

  “Who was he shooting, John, you or the girl?” he asked, looking over his glasses down at the pistol.

  “It was him, Mr. Sherwood, sir!” shouted Joe, unexpectedly emerging from a pillar far up at the other end of the room. “I saw him just ez I was coming in the door, and I was that struck dumb I couldn’t move, not till I seen her jump and catch the gun right out of his hand—!”

  Dulaney turned to Jane, standing white and trembling in the doorway.

  “How was it, Jane? You’re levelheaded. You tell.”

  And Jane, white-lipped, told how she saw the shadow coming, and then the gun—and suddenly she stopped and put her white handkerchief to her eyes.

  “I—don’t know how I got here!” she said, and a half sob shook her. Suddenly there was tramping of heavy feet as four policemen came marching into the room.

  They came straight over and stood in the midst of the little group, taking in at a glance the man on the floor, the gun, the disheveled girl, and Sherwood towering about his captive. They bowed respectfully and gravely to Dulaney.

  “What’s the racket?” asked their chief. “We got word there’d been a row and a killing!”

  “Not a killing, thank God!” said Dulaney fervently. “Make that man Minnick safe first and then, Jane, you tell your story.”

  “Put cuffs on that guy!” the chief ordered one of his men, and Minnick, muttering an oath, was taken from Sherwood’s responsibility.

  They made Minnick stand there and listen while Jane sat down at her desk and told how she had seen the shadow.

  Sherwood, watching Minnick, said suddenly, “What was your idea, Minnick? Why did you do it?”

  But Minnick’s only answer was a baleful look and a lifted lip that showed his long, cruel teeth. It gave the impression of a snarled, “I’d do it again if I had the chance!”

  “He’s an old hand, that guy,” said the chief, watching the prisoner. “If I ain’t much mistaken, you’ll find that mug in the rogues gallery. And I ain’t so sure I don’t know who he is, either! Take him along, boys. We gotta get some few little things here. I’ll take that gun, too. Anything more I can do fer ya, Mr. Dulaney? Well, so long!” And the four policemen tramped away leading their unwilling prisoner.

  But Jane, in her chair at the desk, dropped her head down on her arms and cried as if her heart would break.

  “Poor child! She’s had a hard day!” said Dulaney, suddenly discovering her. “She’s been a brave girl. I guess she won’t have any reason to love this office very much. Get her out of here, John, can’t you?” he said helplessly. “She needs to get a good supper and go to bed.”

  Then he turned to the other men and led them away. Jane heard them getting their hats and then the clank of the elevator door as it closed.

  Sherwood stood beside her and let her cry till they were gone and the great garish room was still. Then he stooped and put his arms hungrily around her.

  “Jane darling! Oh, my little, little love!” he whispered, drawing her close to him.

  And Jane looked up with her tear-stained face and flung her arms around his neck and hid her eyes in his coat. “Oh John! He— was—trying to—k–k–kill—you!” And her shoulders were racked with sobs again.

  “Listen, darling, Jane, my precious,” said Sherwood, lifting up her face again. “Did you ever hear this? ‘The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them.’ If ever there was an angel sent to deliver a man, you were tonight. Oh, my darling, can’t you stop crying and tell me whether you’ll marry a poor man? I’ve been waiting till I had something to offer you before I dared tell you how I love you, but I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Don’t you see,” gasped Jane between the sobs, “that it’s because I love you that I’m—c–c–crying? Of course I’ll m–m–marry you!”

  “Oh Jane, Jane,” whispered Sherwood. “Lift your lips up here, darling, and let me see if I can’t stop those sobs!”

  And when he had kissed the tears away, he held her close for an
instant, and then his lips against her cheek said, in quite a matter- of-fact tone, “And now, dear, don’t you think we’d better be getting you home? Or Mother will be having one of those fits Tom talks about.”

  “Oh yes, of course!” said Jane, suddenly coming to her senses. “Why, look at the clock. It’s after seven! She will be frightened. She’s always been nervous since the last time—”

  “Yes, I’ll call her up at once!” said Sherwood, hurrying over to the phone. “Come on, I can’t let you out of my sight!”

  She followed him, laughing and holding fast to his hand, standing by as he telephoned, thrilled at his words.

  “That you, Mother? This is John. This is just to let you know that Jane’s all right and I’m bringing her home right away.” Then he had to stop and kiss Jane again before he could be persuaded to get his hat and coat. But he was all businesslike as he rang for the elevator. “Joe, you’d better look after this building well tonight,” he said sharply.

  “That’s all right, Mr. Sherwood,” said Joe anxiously. “I gotta special watchman on with me tonight. Mr. Dulaney’s ordered! You needn’t worry.”

  Jane was helped into the car with the most tender care and a special squeeze on her hand.

  “I’ve got to see about getting you a ring,” said Sherwood joyously as they drove along the familiar way. “I’d like to have you have it for tomorrow night.”

  “Oh John, you mustn’t,” said Jane. “I don’t need a ring. I’ve got you! Oh, God has been so good!”

  “Yes, He has, hasn’t He?” answered Sherwood fervently. “But all the same I think I might manage a modest little ring.”

  “No, John, not till you are getting a bigger salary. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “I could get one on the installment plan.” John chuckled in high glee.

  “Now listen!” she said. “You’re not going to be foolish!”

  “No, I wouldn’t call it foolish!” answered Sherwood in delight. “Are you going to let me tell Mother and Father? Do you think they’ll mind?”