CHAPTER XX
THE ADMIRAL'S GAME
The village of Upper Asquewan Falls gave a correct imitation of snowupon the desert's dusty face, and was no more. Bidding a reluctantgood-by to up-state romance, Mr. Magee entered the solitary day coachwhich, with a smoker, made up the local to Reuton. He spent a fewmoments adjusting Mrs. Norton to her new environment, and listened toher voluble expressions of joy in the fact that her boarding-houseloomed ahead. Then he started for the smoker. On his way he paused atthe seat occupied by the ex-hermit of Baldpate, and fixed his eyes onthe pale blue necktie Mr. Peters had resurrected for his return to theworld of men.
"Pretty, ain't it?" remarked the hermit, seeing whither Mr. Magee's gazedrifted. "She picked it. I didn't exactly like it when she first gave itto me, but I see my mistake now. I'm wearing it home as a sort of awhite flag of truce. Or almost white. Do you know, Mr. Magee, I'msomewhat nervous about what I'll say when I come into her presenceagain--about my inaugural address, you might put it. What would be yourconversation on such an occasion? If you'd been away from a wife forfive years, what would you say when you drifted back?"
"That would depend," replied Magee, "on the amount of time she allowedme for my speech."
"You've hit the nail on the head," replied Mr. Peters admiringly. "She'squick. She's like lightning. She won't give me any time if she can helpit. That's why I'd like to have a wonderful speech all ready--somethingthat would hold her spellbound and tongue-tied until I finished. Itwould take a literary classic to do that."
"What you want," laughed Magee, "is a speech with the punch."
"Exactly," agreed Mr. Peters. "I guess I won't go over to Brooklyn theminute I hit New York. I guess I'll study the lights along the bigstreet, and brush elbows with the world a bit, before I reveal myself toher. Maybe if I took in a few shows--but don't think I won't go to her.My mind is made up. And I guess she'll be glad to see me, too. In herway. I got to fix it with her, though, to come back to my post-cardtrade in the summers. I wonder what she'll say to that. Maybe she couldstay at the inn under an assumed name while I was hermiting up at theshack."
He laughed softly.
"It'd be funny, wouldn't it," he said. "Her sitting on the verandawatching me sell post-cards to the ladies, and listening to the variousstories of how a lost love has blighted my life, and so forth. Yes, it'dbe real funny--only Ellen never had much sense of humor. That was alwaysher great trouble. If you ever marry, Mr. Magee, and I suppose you will,take my advice. Marry a sense of humor first, and a womanincidental-like."
Mr. Magee promised to bear this counsel in mind, and went forward intothe smoking-car. Long rows of red plush seats, unoccupied save for themayor and Max, greeted his eye. He strolled to where they sat, abouthalf-way down the car, and lighted an after-breakfast cigar.
Max slouched in the unresponsive company of a cigarette on one side ofthe car; across the aisle the mayor of Reuton leaned heavily above acard-table placed between two seats. He was playing solitaire. Mr. Mageewondered whether this was merely a display of bravado against schemingreformers, or whether Mr. Cargan found in it real diversion. Curious, heslid into the place across the table from the mayor.
"Napoleon," he remarked lightly, "whiled away many a dull hour withcards, I believe."
Clumsily the mayor shuffled the cards. He flung them down one by one onthe polished surface of the table rudely, as though they were reformvotes he was counting. His thick lips were tightly closed, his big handshovered with unaccustomed uncertainty over the pasteboards.
"Quit your kidding," he replied. "I don't believe cards was invented inNap's day. Was they? It's a shame a fellow can't have a littleadmiration for a great leader like Nap without all you funny boysjollying him about it. That boy sure knew how to handle the voters. I'veread a lot about him, and I like his style."
"You let history alone," snarled Mr. Max, across the aisle, "or it'llrepeat itself and another guy I know'll go to the island."
"If you mean me," returned Cargan, "forget it. There ain't no St. Helenain my future." He winked at Magee. "Lou's a little peevish thismorning," he said. "Had a bad night."
He busied himself with the cards. Mr. Magee looked on, only halfinterested. Then, suddenly, his interest grew. He watched the mayorbuild, in two piles; he saw that the deck from which he built was thick.A weird suspicion shot across his mind.
"Tell me," he asked, "is this the admiral's game of solitaire?"
"Exactly what I was going to ask," said a voice. Magee looked up.Kendrick had come in, and stood now above the table. His tired eyes wereupon it, fascinated; his lips twitched strangely.
"Yes," answered the mayor, "this is the admiral's game. You'd hardlyexpect me to know it, would you? I don't hang out at the swell clubswhere the admiral does. They won't have me there. But once I took theadmiral on a public service board with me--one time when I wanted a lotof dignity and no brains pretty bad--and he sort of come back byteaching me his game in the long dull hours when we had nothing to dobut serve the public. The thing gets a hold on you, somehow. Let'ssee--now the spade--now the heart."
Kendrick leaned closer. His breath came with a noisy quickness thatbrought the fact of his breathing insistently to Magee's mind.
"I never knew--how it was played," he said.
Something told Mr. Magee that he ought to rise and drag Kendrick awayfrom that table. Why? He did not know. Still, it ought to be done. Butthe look in Kendrick's eyes showed clearly that the proverbial wildhorses could not do it then.
"Tell me how it's played," went on Kendrick, trying to be calm.
"You must be getting old," replied the mayor. "The admiral told me theyoung men at his club never took any interest in his game. 'Solitaire,'he says to me, 'is an old man's trade.' It's a great game, Mr.Kendrick."
"A great game," repeated Kendrick, "yes, it's a great game." His tonewas dull. "I want to know how it's played," he said again.
"The six of clubs," reflected the mayor, throwing down another card."Say, she's going fine now. There ain't much to it. You use two decks,exactly alike--shuffle 'em together--the eight of hearts--the jackof--say, that's great--you lay the cards down here, just as theycome--like this--"
He paused. His huge hand held a giddy pasteboard. A troubled look was onhis face. Then he smiled happily, and went on in triumph.
"And then you build, Mr. Kendrick," he said. "The reds and the blacks.You build the blacks on the left, and the reds on the right--do you getme? Then--say, what's the matter?"
For Kendrick had swayed and almost fallen on the admiral's game--thegame that had once sent a man to hell.
"Go on," he said, bracing. "Nothing's the matter. Go on. Build, damn it,build!"
The mayor looked at him a moment in surprise, then continued.
"Now the king," he muttered, "now the ace. We're on the home stretch,going strong. There, it's finished. It's come out right. A great game, Itell you."
He leaned back. Kendrick's fever-yellowed face was like a bronze mask.His eyes were fiercely on the table and the two decks of cards that laythere.
"And when you've finished," he pointed. "When you've finished--"
Mr. Cargan picked up the deck on the left.
"All black," he said, "when the game comes out right."
"And the other?" Kendrick persisted softly. He pointed to the remainingdeck. A terrible smile of understanding drew his thin lips taut. "Andthe other, Mr. Cargan?"
"Red," replied Cargan. "What else could it be? All red."
He picked it up and shuffled through it to prove his point. Kendrickturned like a drunken man and staggered back down the aisle. Magee roseand hurried after him. At the door he turned, and the look on his facecaused Magee to shudder.
"You heard?" he said helplessly. "My God! It's funny, isn't it?" Helaughed hysterically, and drawing out his handkerchief, passed it acrosshis forehead. "A pleasant thing to think about--a pleasant thing toremember."
Professor Bolton pushed open the smoker door.
&nbs
p; "I thought I'd join you," he began. "Why, David, what is it? What's thematter?"
"Nothing," replied Kendrick wildly. "There's nothing the matter. Letme--by--please." He crossed the swaying platform and disappeared intothe other car.
For a moment the professor and Magee gazed after him, and then without aword moved down the car to join Cargan and Max. Magee's mind was dazedby the tragedy he had witnessed. "A pleasant thing to think about--" Hedid not envy Kendrick his thoughts.
The mayor of Reuton had pushed aside the cards and lighted a huge cigar.
"Well, Doc," he remarked jocosely, "how's trade? Sold any new schemesfor renovating the world to the up-state rubes? I should think thiswould be sort of an off-season for the reform business. Peace on earth,good will toward men--that ain't exactly a good advertisement for thereformers, is it?"
"It's an excellent one," replied Professor Bolton. "The first essentialof good will toward men is not to rob and debauch them."
"Oh, well, Doc, don't let's argue the matter," replied Cargan easily. "Iain't in the humor for it, anyhow. You got your beliefs, and I got mybeliefs. And that ain't no reason why we should not smoke a couple ofgood cigars together. Have one?"
"Thanks. I--" reluctantly the old man took a gay-banded Havana from themayor's huge fist. "You're very kind."
"I suppose it's sort of a blow to you," the mayor went on, "that yourplans up there on the mountain went all to smash. It ought to teach youa lesson, Doc. There ain't nothing to the reform gag."
The train slowed down at a small yellow station. Mr. Magee peered outthe window. "Hooperstown," he read, "Reuton--10 miles." He saw Mr. Maxget up and leave the car.
"Not a thing to it, Doc," Cargan repeated, "Your bunch has tried to getme before. You've shouted from the housetops that you had the goods onme. What's always happened?"
"Your own creatures have acquitted you," replied the professor, from acloud of Cargan cigar smoke.
"Fair-minded men decided that I hadn't done wrong. I tell you, Doc,there's dishonest graft, and I'm against that always. And there's honestgraft--the rightful perquisites of a high office. That's the troublewith you church politicians. You can't see the difference between thetwo."
"I'm not a church politician," protested the professor. "I'm bitterlyopposed to the lily-white crowd who continually rant against the thingthey don't understand. I'm practical, as practical as you, and when--"
Noiselessly Mr. Max slid up to the group, and stood silent, his eyeswide, his yellow face pitiful, the fear of a dog about to be whipped inhis every feature.
"Jim," he cried, "Jim! You got to get me out of this. You got to standby me."
"Why, what's the matter, Lou?" asked the mayor in surprise.
"Matter enough," whined Max. "Do you know what's happened? Well, I'lltell--"
Mr. Max was thrust aside, and replaced by a train newsboy. Mr. Mageefelt that he should always remember that boy, his straw colored hair,his freckled beaming face, his lips with their fresh perpetual smile.
"All the morning papers, gents," proclaimed the boy. "Get the _ReutonStar_. All about the bribery."
He held up the paper. It's huge black head-lines looked dull and old andsoggy. But the story they told was new and live and startling.
"The Mayor Trapped," shrilled the head-lines. "Attempt to Pass Big Bribeat Baldpate Inn Foiled by Star Reporter. Hayden of the Suburban CommitsSuicide to Avoid Disgrace."
"Give me a paper, boy," said the mayor. "Yes--a _Star_." His voice waseven, his face unmoved. He took the sheet and studied it, with an easysmile. Clinging in fear to his side, Max read, too. At length Mr. Carganspoke, looking up at Magee.
"So," he remarked. "So--reporters, eh? You and your lady friend?Reporters for this lying sheet--the _Star_?"
Mr. Magee smiled up from his own copy of the paper.
"Not I," he answered. "But my lady friend--yes. It seems she was justthat. A _Star_ reporter you can call her, and tell no lie, Mr. Mayor."
Seven Keys to Baldpate Page 20