"Oh, go away, and sing, or do somthing," said Mr. Beecher sharply.
"You gave me your word of Honor" said the Patten man. "I can only remind you of that. Also of the expence I'm incuring, and all the rest of it. I've shown all sorts of patience, but this is the limit."
He turned on his Heal, but came back for a last word or two.
"Now see here," he said, "we have everything fixed the way you said You wanted it. And I'll give you ten minutes. That's all."
He stocked away, and Mr. Beecher looked at me.
"Ten minutes of Heaven," he said, "and then perdetion with that bunch. Look here," he said, "I--I'm awfully interested in what you are telling me. Let's cut off up the beech and talk."
Oh night of Nights! Oh moon of Moons!
Our talk was strictly business. He asked me my Plot, and although I had been warned not to do so, even to David Belasco, I gave it to him fully. And even now, when all is over, I am not sorry. Let him use it if he will. I can think of plenty of Plots.
The real tradgedy is that we met father. He had been ordered to give up smoking, and I considered had done so, mother feeling that I should be encouraged in leaving off cigarettes. So when I saw the cigar I was sure it was not father. It proved to be, however, and although he passed with nothing worse than a Glare, I knew I was in more trouble.
At last we reached the Bench again, and I said good night. Our relations continued business-like to the last. He said:
"Good night, little authoress, and let's have some more talks."
"I'm afraid I've board you," I said.
"Board me!" he said. "I haven't spent such an evening for years!"
The Familey acted perfectly absurd about it. Seeing that they were going to make a fuss, I refused to say with whom I had been walking. You'd have thought I had committed a crime.
"It has come to this, Barbara," mother said, pacing the floor. "You cannot be trusted out of our sight. Where do you meet all these men? If this is how things are now, what will it be when given your Liberty?"
Well, it is to painful to record. I was told not to leave the place for three days, although allowed the boat-house. And of course Sis had to chime in that she'd heard a roomer I had run away and got married, and although of course she knew it wasn't true, owing to no time to do so, still where there was Smoke there was Fire.
But I felt that their confidence in me was going, and that night, after all were in the Land of Dreams, I took that wreched suit of clothes and so on to the boathouse, and hid them in the rafters upstairs.
I come now to the strange Event of the next day, and its sequel.
The Patten place and ours are close together, and no other house near. Mother had been very cool about the Pattens, owing to nobody knowing them that we knew. Although I must say they had the most interesting people all the time, and Sis was crazy to call and meet some of them.
Jane came that day to visit her aunt, and she ran down to see me first thing.
"Come and have a ride," she said. "I've got the Runabout, and after that we'll bathe and have a real time."
But I shook my head.
"I'm a prisoner, Jane," I said.
"Honestly! Is it the Play, or somthing else?"
"Somthing else, Jane," I said. "I can tell you nothing more. I am simply in trouble, as usual."
"But why make you a prisoner, unless----" She stopped suddenly and stared at me.
"He has claimed you!" she said. "He is here, somwhere about this Place, and now, having had time to think it over, you do not Want to go to him. Don't deny it. I see it in your face. Oh, Bab, my heart aches for you."
It sounded so like a play that I kept it up. Alas, with what results!
"What else can I do, Jane?" I said.
"You can refuse, if you do not love him. Oh Bab, I did not say it before, thinking you loved him. But no man who wears clothes like those could ever win my heart. At least, not permanently."
Well, she did most of the talking. She had finished the bath towle, which was a large size, after all, and monogramed, and she made me promise never to let my husband use it. When she went away she left it with me, and I carried it out and put it on the rafters, with the other things--I seemed to be getting more to hide every day.
Things went all wrong the next day. Sis was in a bad temper, and as much as said I was flirting with Carter Brooks, although she never intends to marry him herself, owing to his not having money and never having asked her.
I spent the morning in fixing up a Studio in the boat-house, and felt better by noon. I took two boards on trestles and made a desk, and brought a Dictionery and some pens and ink out. I use a Dictionery because now and then I am uncertain how to spell a word.
Events now moved swiftly and terrably. I did not do much work, being exhausted by my efforts to fix up the studio, and besides, feeling that nothing much was worth while when one's Familey did not and never would understand. At eleven o'clock Sis and Carter and Jane and some others went in bathing from our dock. Jane called up to me, but I pretended not to hear. They had a good time judging by the noise, although I should think Jane would cover her arms and neck in the water, being very thin. Legs one can do nothing with, although I should think stripes going around would help. But arms can have sleaves.
However--the people next door went in to, and I thrilled to the core when Mr. Beecher left the bath-house and went down to the beech. What a physic! What shoulders, all brown and muscular! And to think that, strong as they were, they wrote the tender Love seens of his plays. Strong and tender--what descriptive words they are! It was then that I saw he had been vacinated twice.
To resume. All the Pattens went in, and a new girl with them, in a One-peace Suit. I do not deny that she was pretty. I only say that she was not modest, and that the way she stood on the Patten's dock and pozed for Mr. Beecher's benafit was unecessary and well, not respectable.
She was nothing to me, nor I to her. But I watched her closely. I confess that I was interested in Mr. Beecher. Why not? He was a Public Character, and entitled to respect. Nay, even to love. But I maintain and will to my dying day, that such love is diferent from that ordinaraly born to the Other Sex, and a thing to be proud of.
Well, I was seeing a drama and did not even know it. After the rest had gone, Mr. Patten came to the door into Mr. Beecher's room in the bath-house--they are all in a row, with doors opening on the sand--and he had a box in his hand. He looked around, and no one was looking except me, and he did not see me. He looked very Feirce and Glum, and shortly after he carried in a chair and a folding card table. I thought this was very strange, but imagine how I felt when he came out carrying Mr. Beecher's clothes! He brought them all, going on his tiptoes and watching every minute. I felt like screaming.
However, I considered that it was a practicle Joke, and I am no spoil sport. So I sat still and waited. They staid in the water a long time, and the girl with the Figure was always crawling out on the dock and then diving in to show off. Leila and the rest got sick of her actions and came in to Lunch. They called up to me, but I said I was not hungry.
"I don't know what's come over Bab," I heard Sis say to Carter Brooks. "She's crazy, I think."
"She's seventeen," he said. "That's all. They get over it mostly, but she has it hard."
I lothed him.
Pretty soon the other crowd came up, and I could see every one knew the joke but Mr. Beecher. They all scuttled into their doorways, and Mr. Patten waited till Mr. Beecher was inside and had thrown out the shirt of his bathing Suit. Then he locked the door from the outside.
There was a silence for a minute. Then Mr. Beecher said in a terrable voice.
"So that's the Game, is it?"
"Now listen, Reg," Mr. Patten said, in a soothing voice. "I've tried everything but Force, and now I'm driven to that. I've got to have that third Act. The company's got the first two acts well under way, and I'm getting wires about every hour. I've got to have that script."
"You go to Hell!"
said Mr. Beecher. You could hear him plainly through the window, high up in the wall. And although I do not approve of an oath, there are times when it eases the tortured Soul.
"Now be reasonable, Reg," Mr. Patten pleaded. "I've put a fortune in this thing, and you're lying down on the job. You could do it in four hours if you'd put your mind to it."
There was no anser to this. And he went on:
"I'll send out food or anything. But nothing to drink. There's Champane on the ice for you when you've finished, however. And you'll find pens and ink and paper on the table."
The anser to this was Mr. Beecher's full weight against the door. But it held, even against the full force of his fine physic.
"Even if you do break it open," Mr. Patten said, "you can't go very far the way you are. Now be a good fellow, and let's get this thing done. It's for your good as well as mine. You'll make a Fortune out of it."
Then he went into his own door, and soon came out, looking like a gentleman, unless one knew, as I did, that he was a Whited Sepulcher.
How long I sat there, paralized with emotion, I do not know. Hannah came out and roused me from my Trance of grief. She is a kindly soul, although to afraid of mother to be helpful.
"Come in like a good girl, Miss Bab," she said. "There's that fruit salad that cook prides herself on, and I'll ask her to brown a bit of sweetbread for you."
"Hannah," I said in a low voice, "there is a Crime being committed in this neighborhood, and you talk to me of food."
"Good gracious, Miss Bab!"
"I cannot tell you any more than that, Hannah," I said gently, "because it is only being done now, and I cannot make up my Mind about it. But of course I do not want any food."
As I say, I was perfectly gentle with her, and I do not understand why she burst into tears and went away.
I sat and thought it all over. I could not leave, under the circumstances. But yet, what was I to do? It was hardly a Police matter, being between friends, as one may say, and yet I simply could not bare to leave my Ideal there in that damp bath-house without either food or, as one may say, raiment.
About the middle of the afternoon it occurred to me to try to find a key for the lock of the bath-house. I therfore left my Studio and proceded to the house. I passed close by the fatal building, but there was no sound from it.
I found a number of trunk-keys in a drawer in the library, and was about to escape with them, when father came in. He gave me a long look, and said:
"Bee still buzzing?"
I had hoped for some understanding from him, but my Spirits fell at this speach.
"I am still working, father," I said, in a firm if nervous tone. "I am not doing as good work as I would if things were diferent, but--I am at least content, if not happy."
He stared at me, and then came over to me.
"Put out your tongue," he said.
Even against this crowning infamey I was silent.
"That's all right," he said. "Now see here, Chicken, get into your riding togs and we'll order the horses. I don't intend to let this play-acting upset your health."
But I refused. "Unless, of course, you insist," I finished. He only shook his head, however, and left the room. I felt that I had lost my Last Friend.
I did not try the keys myself, but instead stood off a short distance and through them through the window. I learned later that they struck Mr. Beecher on the head. Not knowing, of course, that I had flung them, and that my reason was pure Friendliness and Idealizm, he through them out again with a violent exclamation. They fell at my feet, and lay there, useless, regected, tradgic.
At last I summoned courage to speak.
"Can't I do somthing to help?" I said, in a quaking voice, to the window.
There was no anser, but I could hear a pen scraching on paper.
"I do so want to help you," I said, in a louder tone.
"Go, away" said his voice, rather abstracted than angry.
"May I try the keys?" I asked. Be still, my Heart! For the scraching had ceased.
"Who's that?" asked the beloved voice. I say `beloved' because an Ideal is always beloved. The voice was beloved, but sharp.
"It's me."
I heard him mutter somthing, and I think he came to the Door.
"Look here," he said. "Go away. Do you understand? I want to work. And don't come near here again until seven o'clock."
"Very well," I said faintly.
"And then come without fail," he said.
"Yes, Mr. Beecher," I replied. How commanding he was! Strong but tender!
"And if anyone comes around making a noise, before that, you shoot them for me, will you?"
"SHOOT them?"
"Drive them off, or use a Bean-shooter. Anything. But don't yell at them. It distracts me."
It was a Sacred trust. I, and only I, stood between him and his MAGNUM OPUM. I sat down on the steps of our bath-house, and took up my vigel.
It was about five o'clock when I heard Jane approaching. I knew it was Jane, because she always wears tight shoes, and limps when unobserved. Although having the reputation of the smallest foot of any girl in our set in the city, I prefer Comfort and Ease, unhampered by heals--French or otherwise. No man will ever marry a girl because she wears a small shoe, and catches her heals in holes in the Boardwalk, and has to soak her feet at night before she can sleep. However----
Jane came on, and found me croutched on the doorstep, in a lowly attatude, and holding my finger to my lips.
She stopped and stared at me.
"Hello," she said. "What do you think you are? A Statue?"
"Hush, Jane," I said, in a low tone. "I can only ask you to be quiet and speak in Whispers. I cannot give the reason."
"Good heavens!" she whispered. "What has happened, Bab?"
"It is happening now, but I cannot explain."
"WHAT is happening?"
"Jane," I whispered, ernestly, "you have known me a long time and I have always been Trustworthy, have I not?"
She nodded. She is never exactly pretty, and now she had opened her mouth and forgot to close it.
"Then ask No Questions. Trust me, as I am trusting you." It seemed to me that Mr. Beecher through his pen at the door, and began to pace the bath-house. Owing of course to his being in his bare feet, I was not certain. Jane heard somthing, to, for she clutched my arm.
"Bab," she said, in intence tones, "if you don't explain I shall lose my mind. I feel now that I am going to shreik."
She looked at me searchingly.
"Sombody is a Prisoner. That's all."
It was the truth, was it not? And was there any reasons for Jane Raleigh to jump to conclusions as she did, and even to repeat later in Public that I had told her that my lover had come for me, and that father had locked him up to prevent my running away with him, imuring him in the Patten's bath-house? Certainly not.
Just then I saw the boatman coming who looks after our motor boat, and I tiptoed to him and asked him to go away, and not to come back unless he had quieter boats and would not whistel. He acted very ugly about it, I must say, but he went.
When I came back, Jane was sitting thinking, with her forhead all puckered.
"What I don't understand, Bab," she said, "is, why no noise?"
"Because he is writing," I explained. "Although his clothing has been taken away, he is writing. I don't think I told you, Jane, but that is his business. He is a Writer. And if I tell you his name you will faint with surprise."
She looked at me searchingly.
"Locked up--and writing, and his clothing gone! What's he writing, Bab? His Will?"
"He is doing his duty to the end, Jane," I said softly. "He is writing the last Act of a Play. The Company is rehearsing the first two Acts, and he has to get this one ready, though the Heavens fall."
But to my surprise, she got up and said to me, in a firm voice:
"Either you are crazy, Barbara Archibald, or you think I am. You've been stuffing me for about a week, and I don't be
leive a Word of it. And you'll apologize to me or I'll never speak to you again."
She said this loudly, and then went away, And Mr. Beecher said, through the door.
"What the Devil's the row about?"
Perhaps my nerves were going, or possably it was no luncheon and probably no dinner. But I said, just as if he had been an ordinary person:
"Go on and write and get through. I can't stew on these steps all day."
"I thought you were an amiable Child."
"I'm not amiable and I'm not a Child."
"Don't spoil your pretty face with frowns."
"It's MY face. And you can't see it anyhow," I replied, venting in femanine fashion, my anger at Jane on the nearest object.
"Look here," he said, through the door, "you've been my good Angel. I'm doing more work than I've done in two months, although it was a dirty, low-down way to make me do it. You're not going back on me now, are you?"
Well, I was mollafied, as who would not be? So I said:
"Well?"
"What did Patten do with my clothes?"
"He took them with him." He was silent, except for a muttered word.
"You might throw those Keys back again," he said. "Let me know first, however. You're the most acurate Thrower I've ever seen."
So I through them through the window and I beleive hit the ink bottle. But no matter. And he tried them, but none availed.
So he gave up, and went back to Work, having saved enough ink to finish with. But a few minutes later he called to me again, and I moved to the Doorstep, where I sat listening, while aparently admiring the sea. He explained that having been thus forced, he had almost finished the last Act, and it was a corker. And he said if he had his clothes and some money, and a key to get out, he'd go right back to Town with it and put it in rehearsle. And at the same time he would give the Pattens something to worry about over night. Because, play or no play, it was a Rotten thing to lock a man in a bath-house and take his clothes away.
"But of course I can't get my clothes," he said. "They'll take cussed good care of that. And there's the Key too. We're up against it, Little Sister."
Although excited by his calling me thus, I retained my faculties, and said:
The Best of Mary Roberts Rinehart Page 159
