Section 37
Yes, this was Mount Olympus, and here were the gods: the female onesin a state of divine semi-nudity, the male ones mostly clad in blackcoats with pleated shirt-fronts puffing out. Every time one of themmoved up to the desk Peter would watch and wonder, was this Mr.Lackman? He might have been able to pick out a millionaire from anordinary crowd; but here every male god was got up for the precisepurpose of looking like a millionaire, so Peter's job was animpossible one.
In front of him across the lobby floor there arose a ten-foot pillarto a far-distant roof. This pillar was of pale, green-streakedmarble, and Peter's eyes followed it to the top, where it explodedin a snow-white cloud-burst, full of fascination. There were fourcornucopias, one at each corner, and out of each cornucopia cametangled ropes of roses, and out of these roses came other ropes,with what appeared to be apples and leaves, and still more roses,and still more emerging ropes, spreading in a tangle over theceiling. Here and there, in the midst of all this splendor, was thelarge, placidly smiling face of a boy angel; four of these placidlysmiling boy angels gazed from the four sides of the snow-whitecloud-burst, and Peter's eye roamed from one to another, fascinatedby the mathematics of this architectural marvel. There were fourteencolumns in a row, and four such rows in the lobby. That madefifty-six columns in all, or two hundred and twenty-four boy angels'heads. How many cornucopias and how many roses and how many applesit meant, defied all calculation. The boy angels' heads were exactlyalike, every head with the same size and quality of smile; and Petermarvelled--how many days would it take a sculptor to carve thedetails of two hundred and twenty-four boy angel smiles?
All over the Hotel de Soto was this same kind of sumptuousmagnificence; and Peter experienced the mental effect which it wascontrived to produce upon him--a sense of bedazzlement and awe, arealization that those who dwelt in the midst of this splendor werepeople to whom money was nothing, who could pour out treasures in anever-ceasing flood. And everything else about the place was of thesame character, contrived for the same effect--even the gods and thegoddesses! One would sweep by with a tiara of jewels in her hair;you might amuse yourself by figuring out the number of the jewels,as you had figured out the number of the boy angels' heads. Or youmight take her gown of black lace, embroidered with goldenbutterflies, every one patiently done by hand; you might figure--somany yards of material, and so many golden butterflies to the yard!You might count the number of sparkling points upon her jetslippers, or trace the intricate designs upon her almost transparentstockings--only there was an inch or two of the stockings which youcould not see.
Peter watched these gorgeous divinities emerge from the elevators,and sweep their way into the dining-room beyond. Some people mighthave been shocked by their costumes; but to Peter, who had thepicture of Mount Olympus in mind, they seemed most proper. It alldepended on the point of view: whether you thought of a goddess asfully clothed from chin to toes, and proceeded with a pair of shearsto cut away so much of her costume, or whether you imagined thegoddess in a state of nature, and proceeded to put veils of gauzeabout her, and a ribbon over each shoulder to hold the veils inplace.
Twice Peter went to the desk, to inquire if Mr. Lackman had come inyet; but still he had not come; and Peter--growing bolder, like thefox who spoke to the lion--strolled about the lobby, gazing at thegroups of gods at ease. He had noticed a great balcony around allfour sides of this lobby, the "mezzanine floor," as it was called;he decided he would see what was up there, and climbed the whitemarble stairs, and beheld more rows of chairs and couches, done indark grey velvet. Here, evidently, was where the female gods came tolinger, and Peter seated himself as unobtrusively as possible, andwatched.
Directly in front of him sat a divinity, lolling on a velvet couchwith one bare white arm stretched out. It was a large stout arm, andthe possessor was large and stout, with pale golden hair and manysparkling jewels. Her glance roamed lazily from place to place. Itrested for an instant on Peter, and then moved on, and Peter feltthe comment upon his own insignificance.
Nevertheless, he continued to steal glances now and then, andpresently saw an interesting sight. In her lap this Juno had agold-embroidered bag, and she opened it, disclosing a collection ofmysterious apparatus of which she proceeded to make use: first alittle gold hand-mirror, in which she studied her charms; then alittle white powder-puff with which she deftly tapped her nose andcheeks; then some kind of red pencil with which she proceeded to rubher lips; then a golden pencil with which she lightly touched hereyebrows. Then it seemed as if she must have discovered a littlehair which had grown since she left her dressing-room. Petercouldn't be sure, but she had a little pair of tweezers, and seemedto pull something out of her chin. She went on with quite anelaborate and complicated toilet, paying meantime not the slightestattention to the people passing by.
Peter looked farther, and saw that just as when one person sneezesor yawns everybody else in the room is irresistibly impelled tosneeze or yawn, so all these Dianas and Junos and Hebes on the"mezzanine floor" had suddenly remembered their little gold orsilver hand-mirrors, their powder-puffs and red or golden or blackpencils. One after another, the little vanity-bags came forth, andPeter, gazing in wonder, thought that Mount Olympus had turned intoa beauty parlor.
Peter rose again and strolled and watched the goddesses, big andlittle, old and young, fat and thin, pretty and ugly--and it seemedto him the fatter and older and uglier they were, the more intentlythey gazed into the little hand-mirrors. He watched them with hungryeyes, for he knew that here he was in the midst of high life, thereal thing, the utmost glory to which man could ever hope to attain,and he wanted to know all there was to know about it. He strolledon, innocent and unsuspecting, and the two hundred and twenty-fourwhite boy angels in the ceiling smiled their bland and placid smilesat him, and Peter knew no more than they what complications fate hadprepared for him on that mezzanine floor!
On one of the big lounges there sat a girl, a radiant creature fromthe Emerald Isles, with hair like sunrise and cheeks like apples.Peter took one glance at her, and his heart missed three successivebeats, and then, to make up for lost time, began leaping like arunaway race-horse. He could hardly believe what his eyes told him;but his eyes insisted, his eyes knew; yes, his eyes had gazed forhours and hours on end upon that hair like sunrise and those cheekslike apples. The girl was Nell, the chambermaid of the Temple ofJimjambo!
She had not looked Peter's way, so there was time for him to startback and hide himself behind a pillar; there he stood, peering outand watching her profile, still arguing with his eyes. It couldn'tbe Nell; and yet it was! Nell transfigured, Nell translated toOlympus, turned into a goddess with a pale grey band about hermiddle, and a pale grey ribbon over each shoulder to hold it inplace! Nell reclining at ease and chatting vivaciously to a youngman with the face of a bulldog and the dinner-jacket of a magazineadvertisement!
Peter gazed and waited, while his heart went on misbehaving. Peterlearned in those few fearful minutes what real love is, a mostdevastating force. Little Jennie was forgotten, Mrs. James, thegrass widow was forgotten, and Peter knew that he had never reallyadmired but one woman in the world, and that was Nell, the Irishchambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo. The poets have seen fit torepresent young love as a mischievous little archer with a sharp andpenetrating arrow, and now Peter understood what they had meant;that arrow had pierced him thru, and he had to hold on to the columnto keep himself from falling.
Section 38
Presently the couple rose and strolled away to the elevator, andPeter followed. He did not dare get into the elevator with them, forhe had suddenly become accutely aware of the costume he was wearingin his role of proletarian anti-militarist! But Peter was certainthat Nell and her escort were not going out of the building, forthey had no hats or wraps; so he went downstairs and hunted thru thelobby and the dining-room, and then thru the basement, from which heheard strains of music. Here was another vast room, got up in mysticoriental fashion, with electric lights
hidden in bunches ofimitation flowers on each table. This room was called the "grill,"and part of it was bare for dancing, and on a little platform sat aband playing music.
The strangest music that ever assailed human ears! If Peter hadheard it before seeing Nell, he would not have understood it, butnow its weird rhythms fitted exactly to the moods which weretormenting him. This music would groan, it would rattle and squeak;it would make noises like swiftly torn canvas, or like a steam sirenin a hurry. It would climb up to the heavens and come banging downto hell. And every thing with queer, tormenting motions, gliding andwrithing, wriggling, jerking, jumping. Peter would never have knownwhat to make of such music, if he had not had it here made visiblebefore his eyes, in the behavior of the half-naked goddesses and theblack-coated gods on this dancing floor. These celestial ones camesliding across the floor like skaters, they came writhing likeserpents, they came strutting like turkeys, jumping like rabbits,stalking solemnly like giraffes. They came clamped in one another'sarms like bears trying to hug each other to death; they camecontorting themselves as if they were boa-constrictors trying toswallow each other. And Peter, watching them and listening to theirmusic, made a curious discovery about himself. Deeply buried inPeter's soul were the ghosts of all sorts of animals; Peter had oncebeen a boa-constrictor, Peter had once been a bear, Peter had oncebeen a rabbit and a giraffe, a turkey and a fox; and now under thespell of this weird music these dead creatures came to life in hissoul. So Peter discovered the meaning of "jazz," in all its weirdlynamed and incredible varieties.
Also Peter discovered that he had once been a caveman, and had hithis rival over the head with a stone axe and carried off his girl bythe hair. All this he discovered while he stood in the doorway ofthe Hotel de Soto grill, and watched Nell, the ex-chambermaid of theTemple of Jimjambo, doing the turkey-trot and the fox-trot and thegrizzly-bear and the bunny-hug in the arms of a young man with theface of a bulldog.
Peter stood for a long while in a daze. Nell and the young man satdown at one of the tables to have a meal, but still Peter stoodwatching and trying to figure out what to do. He knew that he mustnot speak to her in his present costume; there would be no way tomake her understand that he was only playing a role--that he wholooked like a "dead one" was really a prosperous man of importantaffairs, a 100% red-blooded patriot disguised as a proletarianpacifist. No, he must wait, he must get into his best before hespoke to her. But meantime, she might go away, and he might not beable to find her again in this huge city!
After an hour or two he succeeded in figuring out a way, and hurriedupstairs to the writing-room and penned a note:
"Nell: This is your old friend Peter Gudge. I have struck it richand have important news for you. Be sure to send word to me. Peter."To this he added his address, and sealed it in an envelope to "MissNell Doolin."
Then he went out into the lobby, and signalled to one of thebrass-button imps who went about the place calling names in shrillsing-song; he got this youngster off in a corner and pressed adollar bill into his hand. There was a young lady in the grill whowas to have this note at once. It was very important. Would thebrass-button imp do it?
The imp said sure, and Peter stood in the doorway and watched himwalk back and forth thru the aisles of the grill, calling in hisshrill sing-song, "Miss Nell Doolin! Miss Nell Doolin!" He walkedright by the table where Nell sat eating; he sang right into herface, it seemed to Peter; but she never gave a sign.
Peter did not know what to make of it, but he was bound to get thatnote to Nell. So when the imp returned, he pointed her out, and theimp went again and handed the note to her. Peter saw her takeit--then he darted away; and remembering suddenly that he wassupposed to be on duty, be rushed back to the office and inquiredfor Mr. Lackman. To his horror he learned that Mr. Lackman hadreturned, paid his bill, and departed with his suitcase to adestination unknown!
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Peter had a midnight appointment with McGivney, and now had to goand admit this humiliating failure. He had done his best, hedeclared; he had inquired at the desk, and waited and waited, butthe hotel people had failed to notify him of Lackman's arrival. Allthis was strictly true; but it did not pacify McGivney, who was in ablack fury. "It might have been worth thousands of dollars to you!"he declared. "He's the biggest fish we'll ever get on our hook."
"Won't he come again?" asked grief-stricken Peter.
"No," declared the other. "They'll get him at his home city."
"But won't that do?" asked Peter, naively.
"You damned fool!" was McGivney's response. "We wanted to get himhere, where we could pluck him ourselves."
The rat-faced man hadn't intended to tell Peter so much, but in hisrage he let it out. He and a couple of his friends had planned to"get something" on this young millionaire, and scare the wits out ofhim, with the idea that he would put up a good many thousand dollarsto be let off. Peter might have had his share of this--only he hadbeen fool enough to let the bird get out of his net!
Peter offered to follow the young man to his home city, and findsome way to lure him back into McGivney's power. After McGivney hadstormed for a while, he decided that this might be possible. Hewould talk it over with the others, and let Peter know. But alas,when Peter picked up an afternoon newspaper next day, he read on thefront page how young Lackman, stepping off the train in his homecity that morning, had been placed under arrest; his school had beenraided, and half a dozen of the teachers were in jail, and a ton ofRed literature had been confiscated, and a swarm of direconspiracies against the safety of the country had been laid bare!
Peter read this news, and knew that he was in for another stormyhour with his boss. But he hardly gave a thought to it, because ofsomething which had happened a few minutes before, something of somuch greater importance. A messenger had brought him a specialdelivery letter, and with thumping heart he had torn it open andread:
"All right. Meet me in the waiting-room of Guggenheim's DepartmentStore at two o'clock this afternoon. But for God's sake forget NellDoolin. Yours, Edythe Eustace."
So here was Peter dressed in his best clothes, as for his temporaryhoneymoon with the grass widow, and on the way to the rendezvous anhour ahead of time. And here came Nell, also dressed, every garmentso contrived that a single glance would tell the beholder that theirowner was moving in the highest circles, and regardless of expense.Nell glanced over her shoulder now and then as she talked, andexplained that Ted Crothers, the man with the bulldog face, was aterror, and it was hard to get away from him, because he had nothingto do all day.
The waiting-room of a big department-store was not the place Peterwould have selected for the pouring out of his heart; but he had tomake the best of it, so he told Nell that he loved her, that hewould never be able to love anybody else, and that he had made pilesof money now, he was high up on the ladder of prosperity. Nell didnot laugh at him, as she had laughed in the Temple of Jimjambo, forit was easily to be seen that Peter Gudge was no longer a scullion,but a man of the world with a fascinating air of mystery. Nellwanted to know forthwith what was he doing; he answered that hecould not tell, it was a secret of the most desperate import; he wasunder oath. These were the days of German spies and bomb-plots, whenkings and kaisers and emperors and tsars were pouring treasures intoAmerica for all kinds of melodramatic purposes; also the days ofgovernment contracts and secret deals, when in the lobbies andprivate meeting-places of hotels like the de Soto there werefortunes made and unmade every hour. So it was easy for Nell tobelieve in a real secret, and being a woman, she put all herfaculties upon the job of guessing it.
She did not again ask Peter to tell her; but she let him talk, andtactfully guided the conversation, and before long she knew thatPeter was intimate with a great many of the most desperate Reds, andlikewise that he knew all about the insides of the Goober case, andabout the great men of American City who had put up a milliondollars for the purpose of hanging Goober, and about the variousways in which this money had been spent and wires had been pulled t
osecure a conviction. Nell put two and two together, and before longshe figured out that the total was four; she suddenly confrontedPeter with this total, and Peter was dumb with consternation, andbroke down and confessed everything, and told Nell all about hisschemes and his achievements and his adventures--omitting onlylittle Jennie and the grass widow.
He told about the sums he had been making and was expecting to make;he told about Lackman, and showed Nell the newspaper with picturesof the young millionaire and his school. "What a handsome fellow!"said Nell. "It's a shame!"
"How do you mean?" asked Peter, a little puzzled. Could it be thatNell had any sympathy for these Reds?
"I mean," she answered, "that he'd have been worth more to you thanall the rest put together."
Nell was a woman, and her mind ran to the practical aspect ofthings. "Look here, Peter," she said, "you've been letting those`dicks' work you. They're getting the swag, and just giving youtips. What you need is somebody to take care of you."
Peter's heart leaped. "Will you do it?" he cried.
"I've got Ted on my hands," said the girl. "He'd cut my throat, andyours too, if he knew I was here. But I'll try to get myself free,and then maybe--I won't promise, but I'll think over your problem,Peter, and I'll certainly try to help, so that McGivney and Guffeyand those fellows can't play you for a sucker any longer."
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