“Ooo! Ay! Awwright!”
And presently there appeared in midair a man’s legs standing on a slender raft and then the whole man airily descending holding a heavy rope in his hand.
The raft arrived and the man eyed her disapprovingly.
“Step aboard!” said the painter. “She wantsta see the boss, Bill!”
Bill still eyed the lady disapprovingly. “The boss won’t talk now. He’s awful busy. He said he wouldn’t have no reporters on the job, Dan.”
Carol stepped aboard quickly.
“I’m not a reporter,” she said briskly. “I’ve come from Mr. Fawcett in New York with a message. Take me up, please.”
Bill surveyed her with alien eyes. “The boss is awful busy now. You’d best lemme tell him yer here. They’ve set to git the wiring on the ‘leventh done tonight. A salesman was just here, and the boss almost tossed him down the shaft; he was that mad!”
So that was what Duskin was up to. Somehow he had found out she was coming. Likely Frederick Fawcett had let it out yesterday that he had had word from the office or something, and Duskin was putting up a big bluff of working hard. But he couldn’t deceive her. She knew too much.
As the big rope in the man’s hand slid the frail raft up and up inch by inch Carol was planning a dramatic arrival.
As floor after floor slid slowly by, she was interested in spite of herself to see the progress that had been made. Why, to her inexperienced eyes it did not look after all as if there was so much to be done. And yet the letters had been constantly prating of setbacks as if they were a weekly menace. Well, there was surely some crooked game being played here. She must keep her eyes open wide and her mouth shut, and she must be careful not to let anyone know how much she knew until she was good and ready to make her revelation.
The raft came to an unsteady stop at last, and Carol had a flashing view of the depths below, eleven stories down and then basements and cellars beneath. She caught her breath as she stepped quickly off and looked around her.
“Boss is in there,” said Bill with an inscrutable look in his eye and a sound in his voice as if he were discreetly anticipating something.
Carol stepped to the doorway of a large, bright room and saw three men in overalls hard at work—one working at the far end of the room by a window screwing something into a hole in the wall, one on a ladder pulling a heavy wire tube up through another hole in the wall, and the third down on the floor over a ripped-up board with a pair of pliers in his hand, watching the other end of the wire cable moving along in the open space.
The moment seemed tense. No one noticed her arrival, although her steps along the corridor had been brisk and businesslike. She paused in the doorway and studied each man, waiting an instant for someone to look up.
But no one looked up. Each man was intent upon his particular job. From the floor below there came the rhythmic sound of a saw seething through wood and driven by a master hand. Hammer blows mingled with cheery whistling. Perhaps they had not heard her.
“Can you tell me where to find Mr. Duskin?” Carol’s voice was clear and sailed around the empty room resonantly. There could be no doubt they had heard her speak, but not a man of the three stirred or even lifted an eyelash. Were they all deaf?
She stepped a foot nearer to the man on the floor and repeated her question.
“Easy, easy there, Charlie, she’s coming slack. Just an inch more—there! Now hold her!” The pliers went into the dark notch in the floor and did something, but still no man of the three paid the slightest heed to her.
She glanced around and there in the doorway stood the man Bill, a wicked twinkle in his eyes, licking his lips with anticipation, but he did not move or make the slightest suggestion of coming to her rescue. She thought he rather enjoyed her discomfort.
She stood, wondering just how to make her next attack. Then the man on the floor spoke again, his eyes still on the thing in the floor that his pliers held. “Now, Charlie, hold her. She’s all right!”
An instant’s more silence during which Carol at last seemed to sense that there was something important going on that she must not interrupt, and then the man on the floor dropped his pliers by the hole and rose to his feet, turning around to meet her astonished gaze. Of all things! The man in overalls was that distinguished-looking young man whom she had met at the dinner last night! What on earth could he be doing here? Perplexities were thickening. She experienced a sudden wild wish that she had never heard of Fawcett and Company and that she were at that instant sitting on the sand in Maine watching the quiet waves creep up on the shore.
The young man’s eyes were grave and piercing. His look was like the one he had given her last night when he turned away after she had told Schlessinger she would fire Duskin. Was he then a friend of Duskin’s? Did that explain his look? He was perhaps some college friend working for the experience that he might write a book about it afterward.
“I beg your pardon,” she managed to say, suddenly realizing that she had been introduced to him the night before and must not treat him like a stranger or a common workingman. “I am looking for Mr. Duskin. Can you tell me where to find him?”
A flash of surprise went across the keen gray eyes, and he looked at her steadily then spoke almost curtly.
“I am Duskin.” He did not take his eyes from her face. It seemed that he was sifting her down to her thoughts. She had a feeling that there would not be anything hidden from him if he undertook to find it out.
“You are Mr. Duskin?” she said in great astonishment, and then tried to gather her scattered senses. Of course she must not let him see that she was utterly flabbergasted by this. It would be disastrous to do that.
“I’m afraid I did not understand the name last night,” she managed sweetly with a frigid little smile. In spite of herself she could not help feeling more friendly to him. So this was how he had managed to get the job. He had a personality that charmed people. Poor Mr. Fawcett had been taken by his looks, and so had that college president and all those others who had recommended him. And he was trying those fine eyes on her now. He knew by her speech last night that she had come down to look after the interests of the company, and he was going to forestall anything she might have to say. He wouldn’t be so sure of himself of course when he read Mr. Fawcett’s crabbed letter. But she must be on her guard. He certainly could appear to be something quite unusual, even in these workmen’s overalls. Of course that was a pose. A dramatic touch to show her how hard he was working!
These thoughts raced through her brain as she took out the letter from her handbag and presented it. “Mr. Duskin, I have here a letter for you from Mr. Fawcett. Perhaps you would like to read it before I say anything further.”
Without a change of countenance or a lifting of those eyes from her face, Duskin took the letter and stuffed it into the pocket of his overalls.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll try to get time to read it sometime tonight. You’ll excuse me now. I’ve got to get back to work. The men who started to wire this place made some bad blunders that wouldn’t pass inspection. The inspector is coming again early tomorrow morning and every wire on half the floors has got to be changed to comply with the law. I went up to Chicago yesterday to get a new set of men, and we shall have to work all night to get it done. We’ve had all kinds of a time getting the inspector to come and he’s promised he won’t fail us, and we’ve got to be ready. Sorry to seem discourteous, but this can’t be helped. Bill, you’d better take the lady down. She will only be uncomfortable up here.”
Carol’s cheeks flamed indignantly.
“But you don’t understand,” she protested. “I’ve come—”
“I understand perfectly, Miss Berkley. You’ve come to fire me, but unfortunately I haven’t time to be fired now. I’ll talk with you later. Bill, take Miss Berkley down, and if anybody else tries to come up, shoot them.”
Carol stood in utter rout and saw her plans falling away from her like a house of cards.
Who was she to manage a man like this? Would she have to telephone for the police to get him off the job?
Then she heard a scraping, puffing noise in the hall, and lifting her eyes she saw, just beyond the elevator shaft where the open stairway showed, two men like two porpoises, a long one and a round one, snorting, panting up the stairs.
She turned one panic-stricken glance at Duskin and stepped into the frail raft beside Bill, the grinning Bill.
Chapter 7
In something like a panic of defeat Carol got herself back to the hotel and up to her room and locked the door.
As she snapped on the light she caught a glimpse of her Bible lying on the bureau, and a single sentence began to ring in her ears, over and over—“Be not wise in thine own eyes. Be not wise in thine own eyes.”—until her cheeks began to burn.
She sat down to think what she should do next, but instead she broke down and cried. Just why she was crying she did not know. Was it because that man had been rude to her again? Was it because she had failed to fire him in the final and brief manner she had planned? Was it because Fawcett and Company were in such a hole and she couldn’t see any way to get them out? Or was it because those two horrid men kept coming into the scene and filling her with disgust?
She did not know. She only knew she was tired to a frazzle and sick of the whole thing, and she would like to go home and cry in her mother’s arms the way she used to do when she was a little girl.
And she wasn’t being the grand and glorious success in the business world at all as they had made her think last night. She was just a silly little secretary who was trying to do a man’s job and failing. Failing at every turn, and getting snubbed and turned down. Look how they had put her out of that other operation! Of course a man would have known better than to go into the wrong building. A man would have informed himself beforehand. A man would have known by instinct without even asking anyone where the right place was.
And then look how that Duskin creature had treated her! As if she was the scum of the earth! How unspeakably rude he was! And he thought he could get away with it just because he had fine eyes! Well, he would find he couldn’t with her! She might have been upset by his first onslaught but she wouldn’t be again. She would be ready for him. She would think out a campaign fully. Which she should have done, of course, before she arrived here. But how could she when she didn’t know what she was up against? But now she would be prepared. She would have no mercy on him. He was quite impossible! She had meant to give him one more chance if he seemed at all amenable, but it was plain that there was absolutely no hope for him. He was the kind of man who would do nothing but his own way, and well she knew what Mr. Fawcett thought of that! She had been sent here to put a stop to that. But she would get ready. There was a way to deal with everyone, and she would deal most summarily with him.
“Be not wise in thine own eyes,” chanted that verse again. She wished she had never seen it.
Of course she should really have stayed and done it at once. But how could she deal with Mr. Duskin while Schlessinger and Blintz stood by and grinned. That was quite impossible in spite of her confidant boast to them last night. Besides, it was not the dignified thing to dismiss a manager while anyone else was listening. She would make it quite plain to Duskin in the morning—she must by all means see him in the morning—that that was the only reason why she had not been final with him this afternoon; she did not wish to humiliate him before others.
Having settled so much in her mind she threw her weary young body down upon the bed and arranged herself comfortably to think of her campaign.
The pillows were downy, the box springs and mattress were all that is perfect in a bed, and the girl was very weary. Just to rest her eyes she closed them for a moment, and before she had decided whether to call in the police to aid her in the morning or to call up Delaplaine that night on long distance and have him on hand for the interview with Duskin, she had dropped fast asleep.
Sometime in the night she awoke with a start and found she was cold and the room was absolutely dark. The stir of the city had gone dead and the blackness of night was around her.
Searching around for the light, she snapped it on and looked at her watch. It was two o’clock, and she was drowned in sleep! It was no use trying to work out a campaign until she got rested. She slipped off her dress and shoes, found her nightgown, and unceremoniously got into bed, dropping straight off to sleep again with only a passing indignant memory of hard, cold, fine eyes that defied her.
Duskin had remained standing exactly where Carol left him until the temporary elevator had descended out of sight. Then he turned his gaze toward the two men who had paused on the stairway three steps below the top to stare down toward the crazy lift. They were still puffing and leaning over the elevator shaft which was just beside the stairway, their mouths open wonderingly, their brows drawn questioningly. Had they arrived too late?
“Oh, is that you, Blintz? Schlessinger? You better stop right where you are. We’ve got a lot of exposed wires around here and it isn’t safe to monkey with them. I’ve just sent someone else down and told Bill not to let any more up till we get things fixed safe again.”
Blintz drew back from the edge of the shaft sharply and let go of the wooden rail that had been nailed up temporarily until the fireproof wall should be finished.
“Live wires?” he questioned sharply, his apoplectic pink face blanching at the thought. “Hear that, Mr. Schlessinger? They’ve got live wires up there! We’d better go down. Is it all safe on the stairs, Duskin?”
“Just stand right where you are, Blintz. Nothing can harm you there. And when you hear the lift begin to come up you go down to the next floor and wait there. I’ll send Bill to take you down. That’s safer.”
“But that’s all nonsense, Duskin,” put in Schlessinger. “Can’t you tell us where to step? I’ve got to see you at once. It’s something very important I must tell you. A tip you’ll want to have.”
Schlessinger started up another step. He was not so badly winded as his stouter brother.
“Stop right where you are, Schlessinger!” said Duskin with sharp command in his voice. “I’ll not be responsible if you don’t obey orders. Sorry, Mr. Schlessinger, but you’ll have to let the tips go until another time.”
Blintz by this time was padding down the steps rapidly, keeping carefully in the middle of the stairs. Schlessinger hesitated.
“Well, then, come downstairs for a minute. I tell you it’s important.”
“Can’t possibly leave now,” said Duskin impatiently. “The lift is coming back. You better hurry! Bill,” he called down the shaft, “take these two men down and show them out past all open wires.”
“All roight, sir!” shouted Bill with a tone that had a grin in the end of it.
“But I must see you at once!” shouted Schlessinger as he turned slowly and went down the stairs.
“Call you up as soon as I can make it!” shouted Duskin cheerfully to the top of Schlessinger’s head as it disappeared down below the edge of the elevator shaft. Then turning sharply around he said, “Charlie, got that fastened? Good boy! Let’s go to the next room, and Ted, when Bill gets back tell him to lock that front door and not to let another fool in on his life! Get me?”
“Right, sir!” grinned Ted coming to life for the first time since Carol’s appearance.
The afternoon wore away.
Half past four came and the carpenters on the tenth floor folded their aprons and locked their tool chests and filed downstairs. More carpenters came whistling down from the eleventh floor, pausing to say good-night respectfully to the boss’s back as they passed. Duskin answered with a cheery good-night, without stopping his work or turning his head.
The sun dropped lower and sent long shafts of red and amber across the walls where they worked, but still they went on with grim, set faces. Six o’clock struck and a gang of five blue-eyed, sandy-haired Scotchmen came up and looked gravely into the room which Duskin
and his men had just reached in their round of the eleventh floor.
“We’ve done the tenth, Dusky,” said one who seemed to be the boss of the crew. “We’re goin’ out to get a bite of grub and then we’ll come back and tackle the ninth.”
“Good work, Roddy!” said Duskin rising from the floor for a keen look at the men. “How’d you find it down there? Pretty rotten?”
“Worse’n rotten. A mess! If you was ta ask me I’d say those birds never touched a ‘lectric wire before in their sweet lives. Didn’t even know how ta fake it. Top floors are the wor-rrst. They didn’t dare put over some of their tricks where they’d be noticed. Better stop an hour, Dusky, and come with us. You’ve been at it all day!”
“All day!” sneered Charlie. “Better say all night! He come up here straight from the midnight owl train and never went out since. Had Bill bring him up some coffee and a sandwich at noon and that’s all.”
“Aw shut up, Charlie,” said Duskin, turning a weary smile on his assistant. “I’m no martyr. If I get this done in time for that inspector tomorrow morning I’ll eat a meal that’ll put you all to shame. You forget I attended a banquet last night, worse luck. If I hadn’t had to I’d have had more done before you all got here this morning.”
“Aw, cut that out! We’ll make it, Dusky” said the blue-eyed one. “Come on out’n eat. There’s a whole night before us ain’t touched yet!”
Duskin turned sharply back to his wires.
“I’m not leaving this building till this wiring is done!” he said in the tone they all knew. “This happened when my back was turned, and I’ve got to camp on the job now till it’s over. I can’t run any more risks. Charlie, you and Ted and Pete go on with the rest. I’m staying here. You can bring me a snack when you come back, but I’m staying here!”
“Come on then, boys! Don’t let’s waste time arguing,” said Roddy. “Come on, Charlie!”
“You fellas go. I’m not leaving the boss alone in the shack,” said Charlie. “There’s liable to be enemies around. Ted, you and Pete go with Roddy’s gang.”
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