The Dark Star

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER VI

  THE END OF SOLITUDE

  A rain-washed world, smelling sweet as a wet rose, a cloudless skydelicately blue, and a swollen stream tumbling and foaming under thebridge--of these Mr. Eddie Brandes was agreeably conscious as hestepped out on the verandah after breakfast, and, unclasping a largegold cigar case, inserted a cigar between his teeth.

  He always had the appearance of having just come out of a Broadwaybarber shop with the visible traces of shave, shampoo, massage, andmanicure patent upon his person.

  His short, square figure was clothed in well-cut blue serge; a smartstraw hat embellished his head, polished russet shoes his remarkablysmall feet. On his small fat fingers several heavy rings wereconspicuous. And the odour of cologne exhaled from and subtly pervadedthe ensemble.

  Across the road, hub-deep in wet grass and weeds, he could see hiswrecked runabout, glistening with raindrops.

  He stood for a while on the verandah, both hands shoved deep into hispockets, his cigar screwed into his cheek. From time to time hejingled keys and loose coins in his pockets. Finally he sauntered downthe steps and across the wet road to inspect the machine at closerview.

  Contemplating it tranquilly, head on one side and his left eye closedto avoid the drifting cigar smoke, he presently became aware of agirl in a pink print dress leaning over the grey parapet of thebridge. And, picking his way among the puddles, he went toward her.

  "Good morning, Miss Carew," he said, taking off his straw hat.

  She turned her head over her shoulder; the early sun glistened on hisshiny, carefully parted hair and lingered in glory on a diamond scarfpin.

  "Good morning," she said, a little uncertainly, for the memory oftheir first meeting on the bridge had not entirely been forgotten.

  "You had breakfast early," he said.

  "Yes."

  He kept his hat off; such little courtesies have their effect; also itwas good for his hair which, he feared, had become a trifle thinnerrecently.

  "It is beautiful weather," said Mr. Brandes, squinting at her throughhis cigar smoke.

  "Yes." She looked down into the tumbling water.

  "This is a beautiful country, isn't it, Miss Carew?"

  "Yes."

  With his head a little on one side he inspected her. There was onlythe fine curve of her cheek visible, and a white neck under thechestnut hair; and one slim, tanned hand resting on the stoneparapet.

  "Do you like motoring?" he asked.

  She looked up:

  "Yes.... I have only been out a few times."

  "I'll have another car up here in a few days. I'd like to take youout."

  She was silent.

  "Ever go to Saratoga?" he inquired.

  "No."

  "I'll take you to the races--with your mother. Would you like to go?"

  She remained silent so long that he became a trifle uneasy.

  "With your mother," he repeated, moving so he could see a little moreof her face.

  "I don't think mother would go," she said.

  "Would she let you go?"

  "I don't think so."

  "There's nothing wrong with racing," he said, "if you don't bet moneyon the horses."

  But Rue knew nothing about sport, and her ignorance as well as thesuggested combination of Saratoga, automobile, and horse racing lefther silent again.

  Brandes sat down on the parapet of the bridge and held his straw haton his fat knees.

  "Then we'll make it a family party," he said, "your father and motherand you, shall we? And we'll just go off for the day."

  "Thank you."

  "Would you like it?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you go?"

  "I--work in the mill."

  "Every day?"

  "Yes."

  "How about Sunday?"

  "We go to church.... I don't know.... Perhaps we might go in theafternoon."

  "I'll ask your father," he said, watching the delicately flushed facewith odd, almost sluggish persistency.

  His grey-green eyes seemed hypnotised; he appeared unable to turn themelsewhere; and she, gradually becoming conscious of his scrutiny,kept her own eyes averted.

  "What were you looking at in the water?" he asked.

  "I was looking for our boat. It isn't there. I'm afraid it has goneover the dam."

  "I'll help you search for it," he said, "when I come back from thevillage. I'm going to walk over and find somebody who'll cart thatrunabout to the railroad station.... You're not going that way, areyou?" he added, rising.

  "No."

  "Then----" he lifted his hat high and put it on with care--"until alittle later, Miss Carew.... And I want to apologise for speaking sofamiliarly to you yesterday. I'm sorry. It's a way we get into in NewYork. Broadway isn't good for a man's manners.... Will you forgive me,Miss Carew?"

  Embarrassment kept her silent; she nodded her head, and finally turnedand looked at him. His smile was agreeable.

  She smiled faintly, too, and rose.

  "Until later, then," he said. "This is the Gayfield road, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  She turned and walked toward the house; and as though he could nothelp himself he walked beside her, his hat in his hand once more.

  "I like this place," he said. "I wonder if there is a hotel inGayfield."

  "The Gayfield House."

  "Is it _very_ bad?" he asked jocosely.

  She seemed surprised. It was considered good, she thought.

  With a slight, silent nod of dismissal she crossed the road and wentinto the house, leaving him standing beside his wrecked machine oncemore, looking after her out of sluggish eyes.

  Presently, from the house, emerged Stull, his pasty face startling inits pallor under the cloudless sky, and walked slowly over toBrandes.

  "Well, Ben," said the latter pleasantly, "I'm going to Gayfield totelegraph for another car."

  "How soon can they get one up?" inquired Stull, inserting a largecigar into his slitted mouth and lighting it.

  "Oh, in a couple of days, I guess. I don't know. I don't care much,either."

  "We can go on to Saratoga by train," suggested Stull complacently.

  "We can stay here, too."

  "What for?"

  Brandes said in his tight-lipped, even voice:

  "The fishing's good. I guess I'll try it." He continued to contemplatethe machine, but Stull's black eyes were turned on him intently.

  "How about the races?" he asked. "Do we go or not?"

  "Certainly."

  "When?"

  "When they send us a car to go in."

  "Isn't the train good enough?"

  "The fishing here is better."

  Stull's pasty visage turned sourer:

  "Do you mean we lose a couple of days in this God-forsaken dumpbecause you'd rather go to Saratoga in a runabout than in a train?"

  "I tell you I'm going to stick around for a while."

  "For how long?"

  "Oh, I don't know. When we get our car we can talk it over and----"

  "Ah," ejaculated Stull in disgust, "what the hell's the matter withyou? Is it that little skirt you was buzzing out here like you neverseen one before?"

  "How did you guess, Ben?" returned Brandes with the almostexpressionless jocularity that characterised him at times.

  "_That_ little red-headed, spindling, freckled, milk-fedmill-hand----"

  "Funny, ain't it? But there's no telling what will catch the tiredbusiness man, is there, Ben?"

  "Well, what does catch him?" demanded Stull angrily. "What's theanswer?"

  "I guess she's the answer, Ben."

  "Ah, leave the kid alone----"

  "I'm going to have the car sent up here. I'm going to take her out. Goon to Saratoga if you want to. I'll meet you there----"

  "When?"

  "When I'm ready," replied Brandes evenly. But he smiled.

  Stull looked at him, and his white face, soured by dyspepsia, becamesullen with wrath. At such times, too,
his grammar suffered fromindigestion.

  "Say, Eddie," he began, "can't no one learn you nothin' at all? Howmany times would you have been better off if you'd listened to me?Every time you throw me you hand yourself one. Now that you got alittle money again and a little backing, don't do anything like_that_----"

  "Like what?"

  "Like chasin' dames! Don't act foolish like you done in Chicago lastsummer! You wouldn't listen to me then, would you? And that Denverbusiness, too! Say, look at all the foolish things you done againstall I could say to save you--like backing that cowboy plug againstBattling Jensen!--Like taking that big hunk o' beef, Walstein, to SanAntonio, where Kid O'Rourke put him out in the first! And everybody'slaughing at you yet! Ah----" he exclaimed angrily, "somebody tell mewhy I don't quit you, you big dill pickle! I wish someone would tellme why I stand for you, because I don't know.... And look what you'redoing now; you got some money of your own and plenty of syndicatemoney to put on the races and a big comish! You got a good theayter intown with Morris Stein to back you and everything--and look whatyou're doing!" he ended bitterly.

  Brandes tightened his dental grip on his cigar and squinted at himgood-humouredly.

  "Say, Ben," he said, "would you believe it if I told you I'm stuck onher?"

  "Ah, you'd fall for anything. I never seen a skirt you wouldn'tchase."

  "I don't mean that kind."

  "What kind, then?"

  "This is on the level, Ben."

  "What! Ah, go on! _You_ on the level?"

  "All the same, I am."

  "You can't be on the level! You don't know how."

  "Why?"

  "You got a wife, and you know damn well you have."

  "Yes, and she's getting her divorce."

  Stull regarded him with habitual and sullen distrust.

  "She hasn't got it yet."

  "She'll get it. Don't worry."

  "I thought you was for fighting it."

  "I was going to fight it; but----" His slow, narrow, greenish eyesstole toward the house across the road.

  "Just like that," he said, after a slight pause; "that's the way thelittle girl hit me. I'm on the level, Ben. First skirt I ever saw thatI wanted to find waiting dinner for me when I come home. Get me?"

  "I don't know whether I do or not."

  "Get this, then; she isn't all over paint; she's got freckles, thankGod, and she smells sweet as a daisy field. Ah, what the hell----" heburst out between his parted teeth "--when every woman in New Yorksmells like a chorus girl! Don't I get it all day? The whole citystinks like a star's dressing room. And I married one! And I'mthrough. I want to get my breath and I'm getting it."

  Stull's white features betrayed merely the morbid suffering ofindigestion; he said nothing and sucked his cigar.

  "I'm through," repeated Brandes. "I want a home and a wife--the kindthat even a fly cop won't pinch on sight--the kind of little thingthat's over there in that old shack. Whatever I am, I don't want awife like me--nor kids, either."

  Stull remained sullenly unresponsive.

  "Call her a hick if you like. All right, I want that kind."

  No comment from Stull, who was looking at the wrecked car.

  "Understand, Ben?"

  "I tell you I don't know whether I do or not!"

  "Well, what don't you understand?"

  "Nothin'.... Well, then, your falling for a kid like that, first crackout o' the box. I'm honest; I don't understand it."

  "She hit me that way--so help me God!"

  "And you're on the level?"

  "Absolutely, Ben."

  "What about the old guy and the mother? Take 'em to live with you?"

  "If she wants 'em."

  Stull stared at him in uneasy astonishment:

  "All right, Eddie. Only don't act foolish till Minna passes you up.And get out of here or you will. If you're on the level, as you sayyou are, you've got to mark time for a good long while yet----"

  "Why?"

  "You don't have to ask me that, do you?"

  "Yes, I do. Why? I want to marry her, I tell you. I mean to. I'mtaking no chances that some hick will do it while I'm away. I'm goingto stay right here."

  "And when the new car comes?"

  "I'll keep her humming between here and Saratoga."

  "And then what?"

  Brandes' greenish eyes rested on the car and he smoked in silence fora while. Then:

  "Listen, Ben. I'm a busy man. I got to be back in town and I got tohave a wedding trip too. You know me, Ben. You know what I mean.That's me. When I do a thing I do it. Maybe I make plenty of mistakes.Hell! I'd rather make 'em than sit pat and do nothing!"

  "You're crazy."

  "Don't bet on it, Ben. I know what I want. I'm going to make money.Things are going big with me----"

  "You tinhorn! You always say that!"

  "Watch me. I bet you I make a killing at Saratoga! I bet you I makegood with Morris Stein! I bet you the first show I put on goes big! Ibet----"

  "Ah, can it!"

  "Wait! I bet you I marry that little girl in two weeks and she standsfor it when I tell her later we'd better get married again!"

  "Say! Talk sense!"

  "I am."

  "What'll they do to you if your wife makes a holler?"

  "Who ever heard of her or me in the East?"

  "You want to take a chance like that?"

  "I'll fix it. I haven't got time to wait for Minna to shake me loose.Besides, she's in Seattle. I'll fix it so she doesn't hear until shegets her freedom. I'll get a license right here. I guess I'll use yourname----"

  "What!" yelled Stull.

  "Shut your face!" retorted Brandes. "What do you think you're going todo, squeal?"

  "You think I'm going to stand for that?"

  "Well, then, I won't use your name. I'll use my own. Why not? I meanhonest. It's dead level. I'll remarry her. I want her, I tell you. Iwant a wedding trip, too, before I go back----"

  "With the first rehearsal called for September fifteenth! What's thematter with you? Do you think Stein is going to stand for----"

  "_You'll_ be on hand," said Brandes pleasantly. "I'm going to Parisfor four weeks--two weeks there, two on the ocean----"

  "You----"

  "Save your voice, Ben. That's settled."

  Stull turned upon him a dead white visage distorted with fury:

  "I hope she throws you out!" he said breathlessly. "You talk aboutbeing on the level! Every level's crooked with you. You don't knowwhat square means; a square has got more than four corners for you! Goon! Stick around. I don't give a damn what you do. Go on and do it.But I quit right here."

  Both knew that the threat was empty. As a shadow clings to a man'sheels, as a lost soul haunts its slayer, as damnation stalks thedamned, so had Stull followed Brandes; and would follow to the end.Why? Neither knew. It seemed to be their destiny, survivingeverything--their bitter quarrels, the injustice and tyranny ofBrandes, his contempt and ridicule sometimes--enduring throughadversity, even penury, through good and bad days, through abundanceand through want, through shame and disgrace, through trickery,treachery, and triumph--nothing had ever broken the occult bond whichlinked these two. And neither understood why, but both seemed to bevaguely conscious that neither was entirely complete without theother.

  "Ben," said Brandes affably, "I'm going to walk over to Gayfield. Wantto come?"

  They went off, together.