DUSKIN

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “Oh, Mr. Schlessinger, were you looking for me?” she asked in her most businesslike tone. “Did you get the letter from the office you said you were expecting?”

  “Why, no, I’m not sure whether one came or not,” said Schlessinger indifferently. “It wasn’t about that. I was looking for you to take you to lunch, little girl! How sweet you are looking today. Girls of today know how to look sweet, don’t they?”

  Carol flushed angrily, but then decided to ignore his compliments.

  “It is impossible for me to take time for social engagements, Mr. Schlessinger. I’m sorry if you have not received your answer from the office. They are probably very busy. With Mr. Fawcett and me both away it makes the office a little short on staff, you know, and there is a lot to do. I’ll wire them to forward your reply by telegraph if you are in a hurry.”

  “Oh, not at all, not at all. There’s no hurry whatever. But why are you so shy of social engagements, little girl? I want you to meet some of my friends. It isn’t every day we have a visitor to our little old city so distinguished both for her beauty and her cleverness!”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Schlessinger. I would rather you wouldn’t talk like that. I am here for business and nothing else and have no desire for social engagements.”

  “But you are going out to dinner tonight with Mrs. Arthwait.”

  Suddenly, with relief, Carol saw that Duskin was standing in the doorway just behind Schlessinger, glaring at his back.

  “Now, Schlessinger,” he fairly roared, “if you will follow me I will show you what arrangements we are making for the lights in your private office. Just step this way quickly, please. The lift is about to go up, and the men have had to stop working until it is out of the way.”

  Schlessinger turned sharply, almost angrily, and his aplomb disappeared as soundlessly as the air goes out of a balloon.

  “Oh, Duskin! That you? Why such haste? Oh— Ah—Well—I’ll see you in a few minutes, Miss Berkley,” and he bowed himself after the frowning Duskin.

  Carol was not in the office when Schlessinger came down a few minutes later, assiduously attended by Duskin. Schlessinger went prowling around every room and even insisted on going down to the cellar on some trifling excuse or other, wasting a good half hour of Duskin’s time keeping tab on him, but he could not find any trace of the secretary. She had taken her hat and fled as soon as the lift was up out of sight and was even then biding her time in a telephone booth of the drugstore across the way, where she could watch the door and yet be hidden from the street.

  It was not until Schlessinger’s car had turned the corner and was out of sight that she came out of her hiding and went back to her work in the office. It certainly was going to be strenuous work being secretary for Duskin in that building.

  But she had the letters in neatly assorted piles, duly strapped with rubber bands, labeled, and put away in the drawers before she left the building at half past six. She was all ready to go to work bright and early the next morning, and she decided on the way back to the hotel that she would ask Duskin to see that there was a lock and key for the door of the office before another day passed. She simply could not work if she had to keep an eye out for Schlessinger and his sort all the time.

  She would rather have remained at the office that evening, and if she had not promised to go to dinner with Mrs. Arthwait, she would have risked another meal at the hot dog place and gotten a lot of letters answered for Duskin to sign the next day.

  She had telephoned the hotel to get in touch with the Arthwaits if possible and give them a message that she would not be able to dine with them, but she had utterly failed to locate them, and there seemed nothing to be done at that late hour but to keep her engagement.

  She took a taxi back to the hotel knowing that she would have all she could do to get ready before the hour set, which was half past seven.

  She hesitated on what to wear, for she had no idea where they were going, but finally decided on the black dress once more. She wanted to keep her character of a businesswoman and not look too festive, although she was longing to try out the little blue chiffon which her mother had finished only a few days before she left and which looked like a dream as it hung in the closet. But the memory of Paisley Arthwait’s chinless face and affected waxed moustache made her firm. She did not want to seem to dress up for him.

  She looked very lovely, however, in the severe lines of the black frock and her little black hat. She was just fastening the silver rose on her shoulder more securely when the telephone buzzed and word came that the Arthwait car was awaiting her pleasure.

  She hurried down, wishing the evening were over. She wanted to get a good sleep tonight to be ready for work early in the morning. If it was at all possible she would beg to be excused as soon as dinner was over and ask to be taken back to the hotel. Of course she must be polite, however, if she found they had bought tickets for something. She would probably have to see the whole thing through on Mrs. Fawcett’s account. Although, why should Mrs. Fawcett care whether her husband’s secretary socialized with one of her old schoolmates or not? There really was no obligation.

  She found young Paisley standing by the desk awaiting her.

  “The car is just out here,” he said, leading her toward the door. She came out to the entrance to find a limousine drawn up in the shadow at one side. Paisley opened the door and she stepped in expecting to find Mrs. Arthwait. Paisley slammed the door shut and hurried around to the other side of the car, and when Carol looked she saw that she was seated in the front seat, with Paisley getting in beside her and no one else in the backseat.

  “Why, where is your mother?” she asked, startled.

  “Oh, that’s so,” he replied. “I forgot to explain, didn’t I? Why, Mother—” Just then he got in a particularly congested bit of traffic and for a moment or two had all he could do to extricate himself, and Carol had a few thrills on her own account as the car nearly collided with two others, escaping by a hairsbreadth.

  “Pardon me,” he resumed, as they sped around a corner into a quieter street. “Where was I? Oh yes, Mother has been having a fierce time today. She is subject to terrific headaches, and worse luck one came on today. She’s been doctoring up all day, tried all her usual remedies, but though the severe pain has left her, she’s as weak as a rage and not fit to sit up, much less eat any dinner. She’s awfully sorry to miss it, but she said to tell you she’d go next time, and we must enjoy it for her, too.”

  “Oh, but—really—” gasped Carol, sitting up straight in her seat and speaking earnestly. “Won’t you please turn back and let us wait until your mother is better? I couldn’t think of going without her, and I am very tired myself.”

  “Oh, no indeedy!” refused the young man, laughing and stepping on the gas. “Mother wouldn’t forgive me if I let you do that. Besides, our table is reserved and everything arranged for.”

  “Well, but,” said Carol, looking wildly around her and wishing she could jump out, “couldn’t you call up and cancel the reservation? I really would be much happier to wait till your mother can go along. Besides, I’ve been trying to get you on the telephone all the afternoon to tell you that I was afraid I should have to put it off on account of other things that have come up. It was only because I failed to get you up to the last minute that I hurriedly got ready to go. It really would be much more convenient to me if you would take me back and let me go some other evening.”

  “Nothing doing,” grinned the young man fiendishly and stepped on the gas still harder. “Aw, you needn’t worry if it’s chaperones you’re thinking about. There’ll be plenty of Mother’s friends out there. I’ll ring in one of them if you insist, though Mother thought we’d have a much better time by ourselves, and nobody bothers about chaperones anymore.”

  Carol said nothing. She was trying to think of a way out of it, and a sudden memory of Duskin’s warning and Schlessinger’s last sentence—“You’re going to dinner with Mrs. Arthwait”—came to her. Sh
e had forgotten it in her busy afternoon. How did Schlessinger happen to know about the dinner? Was he a friend of the Arthwaits’? Her heart began to beat rapidly. It was then that she had for the first time a sudden memory of Schlessinger’s walking over toward the big couch to speak to someone as she was being carried up in the elevator the night before. Was that only the night before? So many things had happened since then. Yes, and hadn’t those same two people sat on that couch as Schlessinger first approached her? A purple dress and white hair!

  But it was no use thinking things like this now. She must either coax this youth to take her back or make the best of it.

  “I really would be obliged to you if you would take me back,” she said gravely.

  “Aw now, be a good sport,” he laughed. “I’ll show you a good time all right, just as good as if the old dame had gone along. Besides, we’re almost there now.”

  Carol glanced out and saw that they were out in the country, speeding along at a terrific rate. The car careened from one side to the other whenever they struck a rough bit of road, and the few lighted dwellings along the way were far between and seemed to shoot by like comets. Even if she could force him to let her out here, what could she do? She would not know how to get back alone.

  “Where are we going?” she asked anxiously.

  “Oh, out to a dandy place where they have great eats! Make a specialty of chicken and waffles and things like that. Have wonderful mushrooms, too; steak and mushrooms to make your mouth water! People come from Chicago down here to get their steak and mushroom dinners. Greatest ever. Plenty to drink, too. Get anything you want. Have a cigarette?”

  He offered her a gold cigarette case.

  “No, thank you,” she declined coldly, “I don’t smoke.”

  “Why not?” he asked unabashed. “All the girls are doing it. Better learn tonight. No time like the present.”

  “Thank you, I don’t care to!” Carol’s tone was freezing. She began to feel more and more uncomfortable. She decided that she would demand to be taken home immediately after dinner. She wished with all her heart that she had never come. Here again was another of her fatal mistakes. Oh, why had she been sent to this terrible city! What would her mother say if she could see her now, speeding along through the night to nobody knew where with a stranger who talked in a tongue that belonged to another world than hers?

  But Paisley did not seem to be troubled by the coldness of her tone. He drove wildly on, turning now and then a corner on two wheels it seemed, dashing down another road and over to a second highway, barely escaping collision with an oncoming truck, and rattling carelessly on again as if it had been nothing.

  “Saw a great smash-up here the other night,” he announced merrily. “Girl half-stewed couldn’t work her brakes and ran into a milk truck. Gosh it was great! The milk swashed all over, and the girl was all blood; glass broke in her windshield, you know. Fella with her was dead to the world and just lay in the ditch and didn’t say a thing! Gosh it was funny!”

  “Why was it funny?” asked Carol in a still voice, shrinking away from him with a shudder. What kind of a youth was this, anyway?

  “Why? Oh, it was a scream! There was milk everywhere, and the girl’s hat was all blood, and her makeup was all milk.”

  “I wish you would take me home,” said Carol, suddenly sitting up very straight and determined. “I don’t feel at all well. I must get back at once.”

  “You’ll be all right when we get there,” asserted the youth easily. “Need a little fresh air. Here, I’ll open that window beside you,” and he leaned intimately across her and wound down the sash.

  Carol shrank still farther into the cushion and looked wildly out at the darkness rushing by, wishing she dared jump out.

  “Only a mile ahead now. Feel any better? Like to lie down? Put your head on my shoulder,” he suggested amiably. “I don’t mind. Do you good to rest a little. You’ve been working too hard, I guess. All work and no play. We’re going to play tonight, get me? There, put your head down,” and he attempted to draw her over to his shoulder with his one free hand.

  “Oh, no thank you,” said Carol briskly, sitting up very straight and stiff. “I’ll just put my face close to the window and get the air. It is a little hot tonight. I’ll be all right now, I think.”

  She was terribly frightened and sat away from him as far as she could, but it was an immense relief when they rushed out of a wooded stretch into the open and saw a burst of light ahead.

  “Here we are, all okay,” announced her escort cheerfully. “Now, aren’t you glad you’ve come?”

  Carol made out a long, low house with a porch across its whole front, garishly picked out in red and yellow electric bulbs and set in a grove of tall poplars. The many windows behind the lights were dark, however, with closely drawn shades. Many cars were parked around, and the whole atmosphere seemed permeated with an air of giddy mystery. She cast an anxious eye around the landscape and there seemed nothing else in sight but hills and valleys as far as she could see. A great white moon had suddenly come out from behind a bank of clouds and illuminated the world. It seemed the loneliest spot that she had ever seen.

  Paisley parked his car in the line with other noble machines and helped Carol out. She was glad to get on solid ground again, no matter where she was, but she went up the steps—from the terrace to the gaudy porch with its many cretonned rockers and settees, and not a soul in sight—with a great misgiving. What kind of a place was this?

  She was not a girl given to going around much to cafés and roof gardens. She had not time, money, or inclination for such things. But instinct taught her that here was a place about which there was something peculiar, and she wished sincerely that she were back in the hotel.

  However, there seemed nothing to do but follow her escort. She could not very well turn and run away from him down the road, and if she did she wouldn’t be able to get very far from Paisley before he could catch her, for her knees were weak with fright and she must be miles and miles from anywhere.

  When she got inside the place she was not much reassured. There was the same garishness of red and yellow around the room, and the place was blue with smoke and giddy with jazz. Strange, she had not seemed to notice the music until the door opened. The walls must be very thick. It seemed to be an old stone farmhouse extended and made over.

  But there were plenty of people there, dressed more garishly than the rooms, and their voices were noisy and unrestrained.

  Paisley led her to a table, one of the few unoccupied ones, and she sat down weakly and looked around her while Paisley raised his voice and called greetings to various tables far and near and made himself generally conspicuous.

  Carol had never been in such an atmosphere before and she hated it. She was not one to snatch at any experience for once just to get an experience. She felt disgusted.

  There was a table just to the right of theirs where liquor was flowing freely, and the six people who occupied it must have been there for some time and had a great many drinks, for they were very much beside themselves and had begun to address their conversation to the general public. As Carol sat down, one of the men turned bleary eyes toward her and began to speak to her in loud, abundant terms.

  “Well, sweetie, where’d you come from? Look at those eyes. Boys, I’m smitten!”

  Carol turned sharply away and looked to her weak-chinned escort for protection, but he only grinned.

  “Ben Wiley,” he said. “Don’t mind him. He’s a good sport but he’s stewed tonight, really stewed he is—I’ll introduce you by and by when the dancing begins.”

  “Don’t!” said Carol sharply. “I shouldn’t care to know him.”

  “Aw, he’s all right!” said Paisley, comfortably. “Got a fifteen-thousand-dollar car that’s a beaut. His uncle bought it for him, and he killed a kid the first day he drove it. Say, what’ll you have to drink?”

  “Coffee!” said Carol quickly. “Very hot.” She shuddered and drew her s
ilk coat around her neck. Would she ever get out of this terrible place?

  Behind her, the young man of the convivial nature was protesting loudly against his comrades who were trying to hush the song he had begun to sing, looking pointedly and stupidly at Carol as he sang,

  “Oh, I’d like to have a little sweetheart,

  Just like youoooo!”

  He had evidently attempted to indicate the climax by a tap on Carol’s shoulder, for she heard his voice suddenly approach her ear, and then his comrades drew him back and murmured something in his ear.

  “What’s that?” he shouted. “Put me out? Why, they can’t put me outta here. Why, don’t you know I could buy two of these places and put ‘em in my pocket? Lemma alone! I like that new girl. I’m goin’ over an’ talk to her. Who’s that brought her? Paiz? Hello, Paiz, whose’s yer friend? Len’ her to me awhile?”

  Carol suddenly rose from her chair and spoke to Arthwait in a tense tone.

  “I can’t sit here any longer. Take me to another table or let us get out of here! I’m not used to being insulted!”

  “Aw, he’s just stewed,” exclaimed Paisley, rising and trying to detain her. “Everybody understands him. Sit down, Carol. Your name’s Carol, I know. Mother saw it on a telegram they had at the desk for you. Don’t let’s be formal. You call me Paisley. Sit down. You have to. There isn’t any other place, and our order’s coming now. Besides, a friend of yours is coming who wants to have a nice little talk with you.”

  “I’m going outside,” said Carol in new terror. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

  “No use, Carol!” said Arthwait with a leer. “They keep these doors locked fer fear of raid. You couldn’t get out unless I went with you. You don’t know the password. Did you see me use my key when I came in? Sit down, Carol, and be a good sport. You needn’t get excited. The lights all go out if anybody comes nosying around.”

  And then openly she saw him give a slow, deliberate wink toward the table where his drunken friend sat.

  Too frightened to speak, too weak to stand, Carol sank into the chair once more, white to the lips.