In and Out Page 12

  CHAPTER XII

  The Crash

  Now it was the turn of Beatrice to become rigid.

  She did not even wink, those first few seconds. She looked straight atWilkins, searching his soul; and Wilkins, pleasantly conscious of havingdone the right thing well, preserved his quiet, respectful smile andwondered just which lady this newest might be.

  He was telling the truth. He was telling the horrible, the incredibletruth--and although those eyes of Mrs. Boller's might have suggestedthat she was capable of passionate murder if goaded far enough, theybelied her actions just now. One slim, white hand went to her throat fora moment, as if to ease her breathing, but when she spoke her tone wasvery low, very quiet indeed:

  "Mrs. Boller was here?"

  "Yes, madam!" Wilkins responded in round tones.

  "All last night?"

  "Er--yes, madam. She----"

  Johnson Boller returned to life! Johnson Boller, with a thick, senselessshout, bounded forward and landed directly between Wilkins and hisbeloved as he snarled:

  "Say, you--you lying dog! You----"

  "Let him alone!" his wife said quickly. "Permit him to tell me thetruth!"

  "He's not telling you the truth!" cried Johnson Boller. "He's lying!He--why, Wilkins, I'll smash your face into so many nasty little piecesthat----"

  "I beg pardon, sir!" Wilkins said hastily. "The--the lady was here----"

  "There was no lady here!" Mr. Boller shouted.

  Wilkins put up his hands.

  "Well, the lady that was eating breakfast, sir, after a manner ofspeaking," he stammered. "Her that was introduced as Mrs. Boller, whichcaused me to take it, sir, that she----"

  "Say! I said there was no lady here and there was no lady here! Getthat, you putty-faced idiot!" Johnson Boller cried frantically, for hewas beyond reason. "What do you mean by standing there and lying andbabbling about some woman----"

  Again Wilkins's intelligence manifested itself. To be a perfect servant,one's teeth must remain in place and one's face must be free frombruises. Wilkins, after a brief, intent look at Johnson Boller's fists,turned and fled!

  "So this," said Mrs. Johnson Boller with deadly calm, "is what happenswhen you think I've gone away!"

  Her husband turned upon her and threw out his hands.

  "Beatrice!" he cried. "I swear to you----"

  "Don't touch me, you filthy creature!" said his Beatrice. "I--I couldn'thave thought it. You seemed different from other men!"

  "This woman----" Johnson Boller floundered, and then caught Anthony'scold eye. It was an amused eye, too, and the sneer was in it; andJohnson Boller pointed at its owner suddenly and said: "If--if there wasa woman here, blame him!"

  Beatrice Boller looked Anthony Fry up and down, and her lips curled.

  "I do--a little!" she said bitterly. "I've never cared very much foryou, Mr. Fry, but--oh, why did you do that? You know as well as I knowthat Johnson isn't that--that sort of a man! If he wanted to come hereand stay with you, couldn't you have been, just for once--_decent_?"

  "_Madam!_" thundered Anthony Fry, when breath came to him.

  There was no music in Beatrice's laugh; an ungreased saw goes throughhardwood more sweetly.

  "Spare yourself the effort of that righteous rage," she said. "I knowyour saintly type of man so well, and I've begged Johnson to havenothing to do with you."

  "And I give you my word----" Johnson Boller began.

  "That he brought the woman here?" his wife asked.

  "Yes!"

  "And you remained!" finished Johnson Boller's better half. "Where isshe?"

  "She isn't here now!" came almost automatically from Anthony.

  Once more Beatrice laughed.

  "Isn't she, though?" said she. "That sort doesn't leave a twenty-dollarhat behind, Mr. Fry--nor a bag worth perhaps five times as much. She hadmoved in quite cozily, hadn't she? If I hadn't appeared, her trunk wouldhave been along--or perhaps it is here now? If I hadn't----" Mrs. Bollercontinued, and her voice broke as the unearthly calm splintered anddeparted.

  "_Where is she?_" And, her whole mien altering in an instant, Mrs.Boller's hands clenched tightly and her face flamed with outraged fury."_Where is she?_"

  Johnson Boller looked around wildly and helplessly.

  "I tell you, she isn't here!" he began. "You see----"

  "And I tell you that that's a lie!" said his wife. "I'll find her, andwhen I _do_ find her, Johnson Boller, some one will pay on the spot forthe home I've lost! Do you hear? I'll suffer--suffer for it, perhaps!_But she'll pay!_"

  The Spanish grandmother had risen in Beatrice and declared herself!Cold-blooded assassination shook the air of Anthony's apartment. Hishead spun; he wondered hysterically if there would be much screamingbefore it was all over--if the police and the Lasande employees wouldbreak in before the ghastly finish of the affair. There would be justone finish, and it was written in those flaming eyes, written moreclearly than any print!

  And afterward? Well, there would be no afterward for Anthony. Heunderstood that perfectly, yet he was too numb to grieve just now.Fifteen minutes after the worst had happened, the Lasande would presenthim with a check covering the balance of his lease and would request himto go: such was the procedure here and it had proved court-proof.Although he could afford to laugh at them. He had merely to sit down andwait until the news had traveled a bit; Mary's father or Robert Viningwould attend to the rest--and there would be the end of Anthony Fry'sstately, contented existence.

  Beatrice was gone!

  Flaming eyes, heaving bosom, pathetic little hat--all had vanishedtogether, but they had vanished down the corridor, and life leapedsuddenly through Anthony's veins. Even now there was a chance--faint andforlorn, but still a chance to save Mary's life at least! He turned, didAnthony Fry, just as Johnson Boller flew after his demented spouse, andglided into Johnson Boller's bedroom.

  Mary, very white indeed, was waiting for him.

  "Where is she now?" she panted.

  "You heard?"

  "Of course I heard!"

  "Miss Mary," said Anthony, "I'm afraid that the time has come when we'llhave to stop planning and act. The lady is--er--essentially crazy justnow. It is painful enough, but you'll have to leave as you are. Yes,even without a hat, for she has that. Simply leave!"

  "And if I'm recognized?"

  "It is unavoidable."

  Mary stamped her foot.

  "Well, it isn't, and I think you're the stupidest old man I ever knew!"she said flatteringly, as she sped to the closet. "Here! Give me a handwith it!"

  "With what?"

  "The wardrobe trunk, of course. I've been looking at it and trying toget it open, but I cannot do it in there. I'm going out in that trunk!"

  "Eh?" said Anthony, tugging at it quite stupidly.

  "Open it!" Mary commanded.

  Anthony opened it.

  "Yes, there's room and to spare, if you'll take out those drawers andthings!" the girl said quickly. "No! Pile them in the closet neatly;she'll look in there! Now, about your man; is he strong?"

  "Very, I believe."

  "Get him here, quick!" said Mary.

  She seemed to have taken matters into her own hand; more, she seemed toknow what she was about. Anthony, after an instant of blank staring,pushed four times on the button of Johnson Boller's room, which signalindicated that Wilkins was needed in a hurry.

  Some four or five seconds they stood, breathing hard, both of them, andlistening for the sounds of disaster which might echo any minute fromthe corridor. They had not echoed when Wilkins appeared.

  "You! Wilkins is your name?" Mary said. "Wilkins, I'm going to get intothe trunk! Have you grasped that?"

  "Why--yes, Miss!"

  "And you, instantly, are going to take the trunk, with me in it, to myhome--you know where that is? You don't, of course. Well, load the trunkinto a taxi and tell the man to go across to West End Ave!"

  "And the corner of Eighty--th Street!" Anthony supplied.

  "Exa
ctly!" said the girl. "Go to the side door and take in the trunk,through the yard, of course, and say it is for Felice--Felice Moreau, mymaid? Have you the name, Wilkins?"

  "Felice Moreau, miss. Yes, miss," said the blunderer.

  "And then take it to her room and get out!" Mary concluded. "Don't lockthe thing. Load it into the back of the cab with yourself and try to getit open a little so that I'll have air, when we've started!"

  Saying which, Mary Dalton, who knew a really desperate situation whenshe saw one, and who also inherited much of her father's superbexecutive ability in a genuine emergency--Mary gathered her skirts andstepped into the trunk, huddling down as prettily and gracefully as ifit had been rehearsed for weeks!

  She looked at Wilkins, and Wilkins, with a sweep, had closed the lid;and with a great emotional gulp Wilkins looked at his master and said:

  "_My eye_, sir! A bit of all right, that, Mr. Fry!"

  Anthony Fry nodded quickly and thrust several bills into his hand.

  "Don't stand there talking about it!" he said. "Get your hat and hustle,Wilkins! Take the first taxi you see and--and handle her gently! FeliceMoreau, Wilkins--remember that."

  "I shall, indeed, sir!" said the faithful one; and, delicateconsideration in every finger, he lifted the trunk and walked into theliving-room, while Anthony Fry held his breath and followed every movewith fascinated eyes.

  Through the room, then, went Wilkins and trunk together and to the door.The sober black felt affair he had used these three years was onWilkins's head now, and he lugged the trunk onward--turned in the outerhall and lugged it to the freight elevator--and now, as Anthony watchedfrom the doorway of his lately peaceful home, onto the freight elevator.

  The door closed on the little car. The door closed on Anthony'sapartment, with Anthony inside--and again he was that stately,dignified, reticent and austere being; the Anthony Fry of yesterday!

  A trifle stiffly, perhaps, he moved to his pet armchair, and into it hesank with an undeniable thud, grasping the arms fondly as one mightgrasp a friend returned from a long and perilous journey, and staringstraight ahead.

  Amazing! More than that, dumfounding!

  Five minutes back he had been seriously resigned to ruin and death. Nowhe was quite utterly all right once more!

  Anthony looked about at all the familiar things; it seemed to him thathe had not seen them for a long, long time, and that they stretched outwelcoming hands to him. Weakly, he smiled and rested his head in thewell-worn spot on the back.

  What a wonderfully capable little person she was! Why had none of themthought of a trunk before? Or--what matter if none of them had, so thatMary had gained the inspiration? She had saved herself and she had savedAnthony--bless her little heart! She had saved everything, because shewas gone!

  And she was perfectly safe in Wilkins's hands. Wilkins, faithful,powerful soul, would carry her tidily into the room of the maid Felice,wherever that might lie in Dalton's absurdly ornate pile, and betweenFelice and Mary a story would be arranged to cover everything.Momentarily, Anthony frowned, for he disapproved of mendacity in anyform--but there are some lies so much better than the truth that shortlyhe smiled again and hoped from the bottom of his heart that Mary's liewould be a winner.

  And now that all was well--Anthony sat upright quite abruptly. All wasnot exactly well as yet; Johnson Boller and his wife were coming downthe corridor and, almost as he heard them, the lady passed him.

  She said nothing. Beatrice had passed the talking stage. Cheeks whiteagain and eyes blazing, she threw open the door of Anthony's chamber andshot inward! One felt the pause as she looked around; one heard the doorof the closet open--and then the door of the other closet. Then one sawthe pleasing Beatrice again as she shot out, hat still in hand.

  One lightning, searing glance whizzed over the calm Anthony and thepurple, perspiring Johnson Boller. Then Beatrice had turned and hurtledinto Johnson Boller's room itself, and Johnson Boller dropped into thechair beside Anthony and whined.

  "It's over!" said he. "It's over!"

  "Oh, no," Anthony said.

  "And you listen to this!" Johnson Boller thundered suddenly, sitting upand pointing one pudgy finger at his friend. "The poor kid's crazy! Ican't stop her! She'll kill the little skirt as sure as there's a skyoverhead, and she'll go to the chair for it, laughing! And when she hasgone, Fry, when it's all over, _I'm_ going to shoot you full of holesand then kill myself! Get me? This world isn't big enough for you to getaway from me, now! I swear to you----"

  "You might better dry up," said Anthony with his incomprehensible calm.

  Boller turned dully. Beatrice was with them again, and yet there hadbeen no scream, no crash. There was about Beatrice nothing at all tosuggest a woman who has tasted the sweet of revenge. White lips shut,she sailed past them, on her way to Wilkins's pantry and his humblebedroom beyond.

  "Didn't she find her?" choked Boller.

  "She didn't!"

  "Why not?"

  "She isn't there."

  "Where'd she go?"

  Anthony smiled cynical condescension.

  "Once in a while I'm able to manage these things if I'm left alone," hesaid, assuming much credit to which he had no title.

  "Well, is she out of this flat?" Johnson Boller asked hopefully.

  "She certainly is, you poor fool," said his host.

  Beatrice had finished her unlovely hunt. Even again, she was with them,and now she looked straight at Johnson Boller, ignoring the veryexistence of Anthony Fry.

  "I haven't found her," said Beatrice. "She's hidden somewhere, or elseshe's with _other_ friends in this wretched, sanctimonious hole."

  "Beatrice----" Johnson Boller began, with a great, hopeful gasp.

  "But I _will_ find her!" the lady assured him, "and when I do--I'm goingnow."

  "Home?"

  Momentarily, Beatrice's eyes swam. It seemed a good sign, and JohnsonBoller rose hurriedly. The eyes ceased swimming and blazed at him!

  "I am never going there again," Beatrice informed him, with the old,chilling calm. "I shall go to a hotel, and later, I hope, back to fatherand mother. You will hear from my lawyers, Johnson, within a day ortwo."

  "But, Beatrice----" Johnson Boller protested. "That doesn't mean thatyou're crazy enough to--to try divorcing me?"

  "I am not crazy, and there will be very little trouble about it,Johnson," the lady said gravely. "That is what it means. Good-by."

  A moment she paused before Johnson Boller, looking him up and down witha scorn so terrible that, innocent or otherwise, he cringed visibly.Another moment her eyes seemed to soften a little, for they were deepand wonderful, maddeningly beautiful, but millions of miles from theunworthy creature who had once called them his own. This, apparently,was Beatrice's fashion of saying an eternal good-by to one she had onceloved--for having looked and thrilled him, she moved on, and the doorclosed behind her.

  "She means it!" croaked Johnson Boller.

  "She'll cool down," said Anthony.

  "She will not, and--she means it!" cried his friend, wrath rising bygreat leaps. "She's going to sue me for divorce--_me_, that never evenlooked a chicken in the eye on the street. She's going to bust up ourhappy little home, Anthony, and it's your fault!"

  "Poppycock!" said his host.

  "That be damned!" stated Johnson Boller, and this time he actuallyhowled the foul words. "That's what she wants to do, and I don't blameher! But she'll never do it, Anthony! Your reputation's all right--it'sunfortunate for the girl, of course, but I'm going to stop her!"

  "How?"

  "I'm going to tell the cold truth and make the girl back it up!"

  "Hey?"

  "I owe something to myself and to Beatrice, and I don't owe anything toyou or the Dalton girl! Where's my hat?"

  Anthony gripped him suddenly.

  "Are you cur enough," said he, angrily, "to sacrifice Miss Dalton simplyto----"

  "You bet I am!" said Johnson Boller. "If it comes down to that, _thetruth_ can't hurt her,
and any little odds and ends of things thathappen before all hands understand the truth will happen to you--notme!"

  Anthony smiled wickedly.

  "Just listen to me a moment before you start!" he said curtly.

  "Listen to what?"

  "Something I have to say which will interest you very much! Thistrifling family affair of yours isn't nearly so serious as you fancy. Ina day or two or a week or two it will all blow over--and if it doesn'tyou may thank your lucky stars to be rid of a woman so infernallyunreasonable," said Anthony. "But I'm hanged if I'll permit you tosacrifice that girl!"

  "Ho!" said Johnson Boller derisively. "How are you going to stop it?"

  "In just this way!" Anthony continued suavely. "You breathe just oneword of the truth, Johnson, and _I_ will tell a story which involves_you_ and, while there will not be a word of truth in it, it will getover in great shape, because everybody knows that I'm a man whose wordis as good as his bond. I'll tell such a story about you as will raisethe very hair on your head and have an infuriated mob after you beforethe papers have been on the street for twenty minutes! Do youunderstand?

  "The mysterious woman will be an innocent country girl, I think, whocame here to make a living and lift the mortgage on the old farm, andwhom you approached on the street and finally dazzled with a few lobsterpalaces. She'll be beautiful and virtuous, Johnson, and I think she'lltell me, in tears, how you fed her the first cocktail she ever tasted!She'll----"

  "Wait!" Johnson Boller said hoarsely.

  "That is the merest outline of the story I shall tell, and when I've hadtime to work out the details, I'll guarantee that Beatrice will nevereven consent to live in the same city with you--even if you bring swornproofs of the story's falsity! I'll represent you to be a thing abhorredby all half-way decent men and even shunned by self-respecting dogs!Don't think I'm bluffing about it, either, Johnson! I mean to protectMary Dalton!"

  There is a vast difference between the coarse, rough character, howeverblusteringly impressive he may be, and the truly strong one. Frequently,the one is mistaken for the other, but under the first real stress thetruth comes out.

  Johnson Boller for example, looking into his friend's coldly shiningeye, did not draw himself up and freeze Anthony with his consciousvirtue. He did puff out his cheeks defiantly, to be sure, and mutterincoherently, but that lasted for only a few seconds.

  Then the eye won and Johnson Boller, dropping into his chair again,likewise dropped his head into his hands and groaned queerly.

  Anthony, looking contempt at him, fancied that he wept.

  Anthony sneered and smiled.