“I know nothing of the sort, sir, and I forbid Mrs. Delancy holding further conversation with you. This is an outrageous imposition, Louise. You must hurry, by the way, or we’ll miss the train,” said Austin, biting his lip impatiently.
“That reminds me, I also take the four o’clock train for Chicago, Mrs. Delancy. If you prefer, we can talk over our affairs on the train instead of here. I’ll confess this isn’t a very dignified manner in which to hold a consultation,” said Crosby apologetically.
“Will you be kind enough to state the nature of your business, Mr. Crosby?” said the young woman, ignoring Mr. Austin.
“Then you believe I’m Crosby?” cried that gentleman triumphantly.
“Louise!” cried Mrs. Austin in despair.
“In spite of your present occupation, I believe you are Crosby,” said Mrs. Delancy merrily.
“But, good gracious, I can’t talk business with you from this confounded beam,” he cried lugubriously.
“Mr. Austin will call the dog away,” she said confidently, turning to the man in the door. Austin’s sallow face lighted with a sudden malicious grin, and there was positive joy in his voice.
“You may be satisfied, but I am not. If you desire to transact business with this impertinent stranger, Mrs. Delancy, you’ll have to do so under existing conditions. I do not approve of him or his methods, and my dog doesn’t either. You can trust a dog for knowing a man for what he is. Mrs. Austin and I are going to the house. You may remain, of course; I have no right to command you to follow. When you are ready to drive to the station, please come to the house. I’ll be ready. Your Mr. Crosby may leave when he likes—if he can. Come, Elizabeth.” With this defiant thrust, Mr. Austin stalked from the barn, followed by his wife. Mrs. Delancy started to follow but checked herself immediately, a flush of anger mounting to her brow. After a long pause she spoke.
“I don’t understand how you came to be where you are, Mr. Crosby,” she said slowly. He related his experiences rapidly and laughed with her simply because she had a way with her.
“You’ll pardon me for laughing,” she giggled.
“With all my heart,” he replied gallantly. “It must be very funny. However, this is not business. You are in a hurry to get away from here and—I’m not, it seems. Briefly, Mrs. Delancy, I have the papers you are to sign before we begin your action against the Fairwater estate. You know what they are through Mr. Rolfe.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Crosby, to say to you that I have decided to abandon the matter. A satisfactory compromise is under way.”
“So I’ve been told. But are you sure you understand yourself?”
“Perfectly, thank you.”
“This is a very unsatisfactory place from which to argue my case, Mrs. Delancy. Can’t you dispose of the dog?”
“Only God disposes.”
“Well, do you mind telling me what the compromise provides?” She stared at him for a moment haughtily, but his smile won the point for him. She told him everything and then looked very much displeased when he swore distinctly.
“Pardon me, but you are getting very much the worst of it in this deal. It is the most contemptible scheme to rob that I ever heard of. By this arrangement you are to get farming lands and building lots in rural towns worth in all about $100,000, I’d say. Don’t you know that you are entitled to nearly half a million?”
“Oh, dear, no. By right, my share is less than $75,000,” she cried triumphantly.
“Who told you so?” he demanded, and she saw a very heavy frown on his erstwhile merry face.
“Why—why, Mr. Austin and another brother-in-law, Mr. Gray, both of whom are very kind to me in the matter, I’m sure.”
“Mrs. Delancy, you are being robbed by these fellows. Can’t you see that these brothers-in-law and their wives will profit immensely if they succeed in keeping the wool over your eyes long enough? Let me show you some figures.” He excitedly drew a packet of papers from his pocket and in five minutes’ time had her gasping with the knowledge that she was legally entitled to more than half a million of dollars.
“Are you sure?” she cried, unable to believe her ears.
“Absolutely. Here is the inventory and here are the figures to corroborate everything I say.”
“But they had figures, too,” she cried in perplexity.
“Certainly. Figures are wonderful things. I only ask you to defer this plan to compromise until we are able to thoroughly convince you that I am not misrepresenting the facts to you.”
“Oh, if I could only believe you!”
“I’d toss the documents down to you if I were not afraid they’d join my card. That is a terribly ravenous beast. Surely you can coax him out of the barn,” he added eagerly.
“I can try, but persuasion is difficult with a bulldog, you know,” she said doubtfully. “It is much easier to persuade a man,” she smiled.
“I trust you won’t try to persuade me to come down,” he said in alarm.
“Mr. Austin is a brute to treat you in this manner,” she cried indignantly.
“I wouldn’t treat a dog as he is treating me.”
“Oh, I am sure you couldn’t,” she cried in perfect sincerity. “Swallow doesn’t like me, but I’ll try to get him away. You can’t stay up there all night.”
“By Jove!” he exclaimed sharply.
“What is it?” she asked quickly.
“I had forgotten an engagement in Chicago for tonight. Box party at the comic opera,” he said, looking nervously at his watch.
“It would be too bad if you missed it,” she said sweetly. “You’d be much more comfortable in a box.”
“You are consoling at least. Are you going to coax him off?”
“In behalf of the box party, I’ll try. Come, Swallow. There’s a nice doggie!”
Crosby watched the proceedings with deepest interest and concern and not a little admiration. But not only did Swallow refuse to abdicate but he seemed to take decided exceptions to the feminine method of appeal. He evidently did not like to be called “doggie,” “pet,” “dearie,” and all such.
“He won’t come,” she cried plaintively.
“I have it!” he exclaimed, his face brightening. “Will you hand me that three-tined pitchfork over there? With that in my hands I’ll make Swallow see—Look out! For heaven’s sake, don’t go near him! He’ll kill you.” She had taken two or three steps toward the dog, her hand extended pleadingly, only to be met by an ominous growl, a fine display of teeth, and a bristling back. As if paralyzed, she halted at the foot of the ladder, terror suddenly taking possession of her.
“Can you get the pitchfork?”
“I am afraid to move,” she moaned. “He is horrible—horrible!”
“I’ll come down, Mrs. Delancy, and hang the consequences,” Crosby cried, and was suiting the action to the word when she cried out in remonstrance.
“Don’t come down—don’t! He’ll kill you. I forbid you to come down, Mr. Crosby. Look at him! Oh, he’s coming toward me! Don’t come down!” she shrieked. “I’ll come up!”
Grasping her skirts with one hand she started frantically up the ladder, her terrified eyes looking into the face of the man above. There was a vicious snarl from the dog, a savage lunge, and then something closed over her arm like a vice. She felt herself being jerked upward and a second later she was on the beam beside the flushed young man whose strong hand and not the dog’s jaws had reached her first. He was obliged to support her for a few minutes with one of his emphatic arms, so near was she to fainting.
“Oh,” she gasped at last, looking into his eyes questioningly. “Did he bite me? I was not sure, you know. He gave such an awful leap for me. How did you do it?”
“A simple twist of the wrist, as the prestidigitators say. You had a close call, my dear Mrs. Delancy.” He was a-quiver with new sensations that were sending his spirits sky high. After all it was not turning out so badly.
“He would have dragged me down had it not
been for you. And I might have been torn to pieces,” she shuddered, glancing down at the now infuriated dog.
“It would have been appalling,” he agreed, discreetly allowing her to imagine the worst.
“How can I ever thank you?” cried she impulsively. He made a very creditable show of embarrassment in the effort to convince her that he had accomplished only what any man would have attempted under similar circumstances. She was thoroughly convinced that no other man could have succeeded.
“Well, we’re in a pretty position, are we not?” he asked in the end.
“I think I can stick on without being held, Mr. Crosby,” she said, and his arm slowly and regretfully came to parade rest.
“Are you sure you won’t get dizzy?” he demanded in deep solicitude.
“I’ll not look down,” she said, smiling into his eyes. He lost the power of speech for a moment. “May I look at those figures now?”
For the next ten minutes she studiously followed him as he explained the contents of the various papers. She held the sheets and they sat very close to each other on the big beam. The dog looked on in sour disgust.
“They cannot be wrong,” she cried at last. Her eyes were sparkling. “You are as good as an angel.”
“I only regret that I can’t complete the illusion by unfolding a strong and convenient pair of wings,” he said dolorously. “How are we to catch that train for Chicago?”
“I’m afraid we can’t,” she said demurely. “You’ll miss the box party.”
“That’s a pleasure easily sacrificed.”
“Besides, you are seeing me on business. Pleasure should never interfere with business, you know.”
“It doesn’t seem to,” he said, and the dog saw them smile tranquilly into each other’s eyes.
“Oh, isn’t this too funny for words?” He looked very grateful.
“I wonder when Austin will condescend to release us.”
“I have come to a decision, Mr. Crosby,” she said irrelevantly.
“Indeed?”
“I shall never speak to Robert Austin again, and I’ll never enter his house as long as I live,” she announced determinedly.
“Good! But you forget your personal effects. They are in his house.” He was overflowing with happiness.
“They have all gone to the depot and I have the baggage checks. My ticket and my money are in this purse. You see, we are quite on the same footing.”
“I don’t feel sure of my footing,” he commented ruefully. “By the way, I have a fountain pen. Would you mind signing these papers? We’ll be quite sure of our standing at least.”
She deliberately spread out the papers on the beam, and, while he obligingly kept her from falling, signed seven documents in a full, decisive hand: “Louise Hampton Delancy.”
“There! That means that you are to begin suit,” she said finally, handing the pen to him.
“I’ll not waste an instant,” he said meaningly. “In fact, the suit is already under way.”
“I don’t understand you,” she said, but she flushed.
“That’s what a lawyer says when he goes to court,” he explained.
“Oh,” she said, thoroughly convinced.
At the end of another hour the two on the beam were looking at each other with troubled eyes. When he glanced at his watch at six o’clock, his face was extremely sober. There was a tired, wistful expression in her eyes.
“Do you think they’ll keep us here all night?” she asked plaintively.
“Heaven knows what that scoundrel will do.”
“We have the papers signed, at any rate.” She sighed, trying to revive the dying spark of humor.
“And we won’t be lonesome,” he added, glaring at the dog.
“Did you ever dream that a man could be so despicable?”
“Ah, here comes some one at last,” he cried, brightening up.
The figure of Robert Austin appeared in the doorway.
“Oho, you’re both up there now, are you?” he snapped. “That’s why you didn’t go to the depot, is it? Well, how has the business progressed?”
“She has signed all the papers, if that’s what you want to know,” said Crosby tantalizingly.
“That’s all the good it will do her. We’ll beat you in court, Mr. Crosby, and we won’t leave a dollar for you, my dear sister-in-law,” snarled Austin, his face white with rage.
“And now that we’ve settled our business, and missed our train, perhaps you’ll call off your confounded dog,” said Crosby. Austin’s face broke into a wide grin, and he chuckled aloud. Then he leaned against the door-post and held his sides.
“What’s the joke?” demanded the irate Crosby. Mrs. Delancy clasped his arm and looked down upon Austin as if he had suddenly gone mad.
“You want to come down, eh?” cackled Austin. “Why don’t you come down? I know you’ll pardon my laughter, but I have just remembered that you may be a horse thief and that I was not going to let you escape. Mrs. Delancy refuses to speak to me, so I decline to ask her to come down.”
“Do you mean to say you’ll keep this lady up here for—” began Crosby fiercely. Her hand on his arm prevented him from leaping to the floor.
“She may come down when she desires, and so may you, sir,” roared Austin stormily.
“But some one will release us, curse you, and then I’ll make you sorry you ever lived,” hissed Crosby. “You are a black-hearted cur, a cowardly dog—”
“Don’t—don’t!” whispered the timid woman beside him.
“You are helping your cause beautifully,” sneered Austin. “My men have instructions to stay away from the barn until the marshal comes. I, myself, expect to feed and bed the horses.”
Deliberately he went about the task of feeding the horses. The two on the beam looked on in helpless silence. Crosby had murder in his heart. At last the master of the situation started for the door.
“Good-night,” he said sarcastically. “Pleasant dreams.”
“You brute,” cried Crosby, hoarse with anger. A sob came from his tired companion and Crosby turned to her, his heart full of tenderness and—shame, perhaps. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her shoulders drooped dejectedly.
“What shall we do?” she moaned. Crosby could frame no answer. He gently took her hand in his and held it tightly. She made no effort to withdraw it.
“I’m awfully sorry,” he said softly. “Don’t cry, little woman. It will all end right, I know.”
Just then Austin reentered the barn. Without a word he strode over and emptied a pan of raw meat on the floor in front of the dog. Then he calmly departed, but Crosby could have sworn he heard him chuckle. The captives looked at each other dumbly for a full minute, one with wet, wide-open, hurt eyes, the other with consternation. Gradually the sober light in their eyes faded away and feeble smiles developed into peals of laughter. The irony of the situation bore down upon them irresistibly and their genuine, healthy young minds saw the picture in all of its ludicrous colorings. Not even the prospect of a night in mid-air could conquer the wild desire to laugh.
“Isn’t it too funny for words?” she laughed bravely through her tears.
Then, for some reason, both relapsed into dark, silent contemplation of the dog who was so calmly enjoying his evening repast.
“I am sorry to admit it, Mr. Crosby, but I am growing frightfully hungry,” she said wistfully.
“It has just occurred to me that I haven’t eaten a bite since seven o’clock this morning,” he said.
“You poor man! I wish I could cook something for you.”
“You might learn.”
“You know what I mean,” she explained, reddening a bit. “You must be nearly famished.”
“I prefer to think of something more interesting,” he said coolly.
“It is horrid!” she sobbed. “See, it is getting dark. Night is coming. Mr. Crosby, what is to become of us?” He was very much distressed by her tears and a desperate resolve took root in
his breast. She was so tired and dispirited that she seemed glad when he drew her close to him and pressed her head upon his shoulder. He heard the long sigh of relief and relaxation and she peered curiously over her wet lace handkerchief when he muttered tenderly:
“Poor little chap!”
Then she sighed again quite securely, and there was a long silence, broken regularly and rhythmically by the faint little catches that once were tearful sobs.
“Oh, dear me! It is quite dark,” she cried suddenly, and he felt a shudder run through her body.
“Where could you go tonight, Mrs. Delancy, if we were to succeed in getting away from here?” he asked abruptly. She felt his figure straighten and his arm grow tense as if a sudden determination had charged through it.
“Why—why, I hadn’t thought about that,” she confessed, confronted by a new proposition.
“There’s a late night train for Chicago,” he volunteered.
“But how are we to catch it?”
“If you are willing to walk to town I think you can catch it,” he said, a strange ring in his voice.
“What do you mean?” she demanded, looking up at his face quickly.
“Can you walk the two miles?” he persisted. “The train leaves Dexter at eleven o’clock and it is now nearly eight.”
“Of course I can walk it,” she said eagerly. “I could walk a hundred miles to get away from this place.”
“You’ll miss the New York train, of course.”
“I’ve changed my mind, Mr. Crosby. I shall remain in Chicago until we have had our revenge on Austin and the others.”
“That’s very good of you. May I ask where you stop in Chicago?”
“My apartments are in the C— Building. My mother lives with me.”
“Will you come to see me some time?” he asked, an odd smile on his lips.
“Come to see you?” she cried in surprise. “The idea! What do you mean?”
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 159