CHAPTER VII
THE BITTERNESS OF JEALOUSY
James, the footman, entered the library before Malcolm Melvin hadcompleted the first sentence of the reading of Patricia'sstipulations, and deferentially addressed himself to Roderick Duncan:
"Pardon me, sir," he said, "but there is an urgent demand for you atthe telephone--so urgent that I thought it necessary to interruptyou."
"For me? Are you sure?" asked Duncan, in surprise. For, at the moment,he could not imagine who sought him at such an hour, or how hispresence at Langdon's house, was known.
"Yes, sir. Mr. Gardner is on the wire."
Duncan started to his feet, and hurried from the room, while Patricia,after a moment's hesitation, arose and followed him, glancing towardthe big clock in one corner of the library as she passed it, andobserving that it was already Sunday morning.
She waited in the hallway, outside the library door, until Duncanreappeared, after his talk with Jack Gardner over the telephone, andshe stopped him, by a gesture.
"What is it, Roderick?" she asked. "I think I know what it must be. Ifit is anything that concerns me, I should like to know about it atonce. It is something about the--the rumor of your marriage toBeatrice?"
"It concerns you only indirectly, Patricia," he replied. "I am afraidthat I must defer the reading of those stipulations until anothertime. Gardner is very anxious for me to go to him at once."
"Why?" It was a simple, but a very direct question, which there was nopossibility of avoiding.
"Gardner has kidnapped Radnor, and has him now at his own house.Radnor is the newspaper man whom I--who sought to interview me.Beatrice is there, with Sally. You know, they left Delmonico'stogether. My presence is insisted upon in order properly to clear upthis unfortunate business. I really must go, you see. It is necessaryfor all concerned that this matter go no farther."
He would have said more, but she turned calmly away from him, andspoke to the footman.
"James," she said, "have Philip at the front door with the Packard, asquickly as possible." Then, to Duncan, she added: "I'll go with you;I shall be ready in a moment. You must wait for me, Roderick."
"But, Patricia," exclaimed Duncan, startled and greatly dismayed byher decision, reached so suddenly, "have you thought what time it is?"
"Yes," she responded, moving toward the stairway. "I have just lookedat the clock. It is two o'clock, Sunday morning. I understand, also,that the conventions would be shocked, if the conventions understoodthe situation; but, fortunately, the conventions do not. You and Iwill drive to Sally Gardner's home together. I shall bring Beatriceback with me when we return. Please, make our apologies to my fatherand Mr. Melvin. I shall rejoin you in a moment."
There was no help for it, and Duncan waited, for he knew that, even ifhe should hasten on alone, Patricia would follow in the automobile, assoon as Philip brought it to the door. He sent James into the librarywith the announcement, and a moment later assisted Patricia into thehastily summoned car. The drive to the home of Jack Gardner was ashort one, and was made in utter silence between the two young personsso deeply interested in each other, yet so widely separated by theoccurrences of that fateful Saturday afternoon. Duncan knew that itwas useless to expostulate with Patricia; and she, following heradopted course of outward indifference to everything save her personalinterests, preferred to say nothing at all.
When the automobile came to a stop before Gardner's door, Jack himselfrushed down the steps; but he paused midway between the bottom one andthe curb, when he discovered that Duncan was not alone in the car, andhe uttered a low whistle of consternation. He said something under hisbreath, too, but neither of the occupants of the automobile could hearit; and then, as he stepped forward to assist Patricia to alight, shesaid to him, in her usual quiet manner:
"Inasmuch as I am an interested party in this affair, Jack, I thoughtit important that I should accompany Mr. Duncan. I hope you do notregret that I have done so."
"Why--er--certainly not; not at all, Patricia. I don't know but thatit is better--your having done so. You see--er--things have somehowgot into a most damna--terrific tangle, you know, and I suppose I ampartly responsible for it; if not wholly so. I--"
"You need not explain; believe me, Jack," she interrupted him, andpassed on toward the steps, ascending them alone in advance of thetwo men who had paused for a moment beside the automobile, facing eachother. Then, things happened, and they followed one another so swiftlythat it is almost impossible to give a comprehensive description ofthem.
Philip, the chauffeur, sprang out from under the steering-wheel andfor some reason unknown to anyone but himself, passed around to therear of the car. He had permitted the engine to run on, merelythrowing out the clutch when he came to a stop. The noise of themachinery interfered with the low-toned conversation that Duncanwished to have with Jack Gardner, and so the two stepped aside, movinga few paces away from the car, and also beyond the steps leading tothe entrance of Gardner's home. Patricia passed through the open door,unannounced, for the owner of the house had left it ajar when he randown the steps to greet Duncan. Miss Langdon had barely disappearedinside the doorway, when the hatless figure of a man sprang throughit. He ran down the steps, and jumped into the driver's seat of thePackard car before either Duncan, or Gardner, whose backs werehalf-turned in that direction, realized what was taking place.
The man was Radnor, of course. He had found an opportunity to escapefrom his difficulties, and had taken advantage of it, without amoment's hesitation. He had argued that there would still be time,before the last edition of the newspapers should go to press, if hecould only get to a telephone and succeed in convincing the nighteditor of the wisdom of holding the forms for this great story. Anynewspaper would answer his purpose, for he believed that he could holdback any one of them a few moments, if only he could get to atelephone.
Radnor had not reckoned on the automobile, but he knew how to operatea Packard car as well as did the chauffeur himself, and he had barelyreached the seat under the wheel when the big machine shot forwardwith rapidly increasing speed. He left the chauffeur, and the twoyoung millionaires gaping after it with unmitigated astonishment andchagrin. Duncan and Gardner, both, realized that the newspaper man hadescaped them, and each of them understood only too well that at leastone of the city newspapers was now likely to print the hateful storyof the supposed marriage, beneath glaring and astonishing headlines,the following morning.
Duncan swore, softly and rapidly, but with emphasis; Jack Gardner,broke into uproarous laughter, which he could not possibly repress orcontrol; the chauffeur started up the avenue on a run, in a fruitlesschase after the on-rushing car, which even at that moment whirledaround the corner toward Madison avenue, and disappeared. Gardnercontinued to laugh on, until Duncan seized him by the shoulder, andshook him with some violence.
"Shut up your infernal clatter, Jack!" he exclaimed, momentarilyforgetful of his anger at his friend. "Help me to think what can bedone to head off that crazy fool, will you? It isn't half-past twoo'clock, yet, and he will succeed in catching at least one of thenewspapers, before it goes to press; God only knows how many others hewill connect with, by telephone. What shall we do?"
"I can get out one of my own cars in ten minutes," began Gardner. Buthis friend interrupted him:
"Come with me," Duncan exclaimed; and, being almost as familiar withthe interior of the house as its owner was, he dashed up the stepsthrough the still open doorway, and ran onward up the stairs towardthe smoking-room on the second floor, closely followed by Gardner.There he seized upon the telephone, and asked for the _New YorkHerald_, fortunately knowing the number. While he awaited a responseto his call he put one hand over the transmitter, and said, rapidly,to his companion:
"Jack, I have just called up the night city editor of the _Herald_.While I am talking with him, I wish you would make use of thetelephone-directory, and write down the numbers of the calls for theother leading newspapers in town. This is the only way possible
bywhich we may succeed in getting ahead of Radnor."
Any person who has ever had to do with newspaper life will understandhow futile such an attempt as this one would be to interfere withinteresting news, during the last moments before going to press. Cityeditors, and especially night city editors, have no time to devote tocomplaints, unless those complaints possess news-value. Nothing shortof dynamite, can "kill" a "good story," once it has gone to thecomposing-room. Whatever it was that Duncan said to the gentleman incharge of the desk at the _Herald_ office, and to the gentlemen incharge of other desks, at other newspaper offices, need not berecorded here. Each of the persons, so addressed, probably listened,with apparent interest, to a small part of his statement, and asinevitably interrupted him by inquiring if it were Mr. Duncan inperson who was talking; and, when an affirmative answer was given tothis inquiry, Roderick was not long in discovering that he hadsucceeded only in supplying an additional value to the story, and ingiving a personal interview over a telephone-wire. He realized, toolate, that instead of interfering with whatever intention Burke Radnormight have had in making the escape, he had materially aided thisubiquitous person in his plans. The mere mention by him to each of thecity editors that Radnor was the man of whom he was complaining, gaveassurance to those gentlemen that some sort of important news was onthe way to them, and therefore Duncan succeeded only in accomplishingwhat Radnor most desired--that is, in holding back the closing of theforms, as long as possible, for Radnor's story, whatever it mightprove to be.
Meanwhile, directly beneath the room where Duncan was so franticallytelephoning, a scene of quite a different character was taking place.
When Patricia entered the house, she passed rapidly forward to thespacious library, encountering no one. Entering it, she found SallyGardner seated upon one of the chairs, convulsed with laughter, whiledirectly before her stood Beatrice, her eyes flashing contemptuousanger, and scorn upon the fun-loving and now half-hysterical youngmatron, who seemed to be unduly amused. Neither of them was at themoment, conscious of Patricia's presence. She had approached soquietly and swiftly that her footsteps along the hallway had made nosound.
"You helped Burke Radnor to escape from us, Sally!" Beatrice wasexclaiming, angrily. "I haven't a doubt that you put him up to it. Ibelieve you would be delighted to see that hateful story in thenewspapers. It was a despicable thing for you to do."
"Oh, Beatrice!" Sally exclaimed, when she could find breath to do so."It is all so very funny--"
She discovered Patricia's presence, and stopped abruptly; then, shestarted to her feet, and, passing around the table quickly, greetedMiss Langdon with effusion.
"Why, Patricia!" she exclaimed. "I had no idea that you were here."
Beatrice turned quickly at the mention of Patricia's name, and heranger at Sally Gardner was suddenly turned against Patricia Langdon,with tenfold force and vehemence. It is an axiom that blue-eyed womenhave more violent tempers than black-eyed ones, once they arethoroughly aroused. Your brunette will flash and sputter, and sayhasty things impulsively, or emotionally, but her anger is likely topass as quickly as it arises, and it is almost sure to leave nolasting sting, behind it. Your fair-haired, fair-skinned, man orwoman, when thoroughly aroused, is inclined to be implacable,unrelenting, even cruel.
Beatrice Brunswick's eyes were flashing with passionate fury, and,although she did not realize it, the greater part of her display oftemper, was really directed against herself, because deep down in hersub-consciousness she knew that she alone was responsible for thepresent predicament. But anger is unreasoning, and, when one is angryat oneself, one is only too apt to seek for another person upon whomto visit the consequences. Patricia made her appearance just in timeto offer herself as a target for Miss Brunswick's wrath; and Beatrice,totally unmindful of Sally's presence, loosed her tongue, andpermitted words to flow, which, had she stopped to think, she neverwould have uttered.
"It is you! you! Patricia Langdon, who are responsible for thisdreadful state of affairs," she cried out, starting forward, and, withone hand resting upon the corner of the library table, bending alittle toward the haughty, Junoesque young woman she was addressing."It is you, who dare to play with a man's love as a child would playwith a doll, and who think it can be made to conform to the spirit ofyour unholy pride as readily. It is your fault that I am placed inthis dreadful position, so that now, with Sally's connivance, thisdreadful tale is likely to appear in every one of the morning papers.You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Pat Langdon, for doing what youhave done! You ought to get down on your knees to Roderick Duncan, andbeg his eternal pardon for the agony you have caused him, since noonof yesterday. I know it all--I know the whole story, from beginning toend! I know what your unreasoning pride and your haughty willfulness,have accomplished: they have driven almost to desperation the man wholoves you better than he loves anything else in the world! But youhave no heart. The place inside you where it should exist is an emptyvoid. If it were not, you would realize to what dreadful straits youhave brought us all, and to what degree of desperation you have drivenme, who sought to help you. I tell you, now, to your face, thatRoderick Duncan is one man in ten thousand; and that he has loved youfor years, as a woman is rarely loved. But you cast his love aside asif it were of no value--as if it were a little thing, to be picked upanywhere, and to be played with, as a child plays with a toy.Possibly it may please you now to hear one thing more; but, whether itdoes or not, you shall hear it. Roderick was in a desperate mood,to-night, because of your treatment of him, and he did ask me to marryhim. So there! He did ask me! And I--I was a fool not to take him athis word. But he doesn't--he didn't--he--" She ceased as abruptly asshe had begun the tirade.
Patricia had started backward a little before Beatrice's vehemence,and her eyes had gradually widened and darkened, while she sought andobtained her accustomed control over her own emotions. Now, with aslight shrug of her shoulders and a smile that was maddening to theyoung woman who faced her, she interrupted:
"You should have accepted Mr. Duncan's proposal," she said, icily,"for, if I read you correctly now, the fulfillment of it would havebeen most agreeable to you. One might quite readily assume from yourconduct and the words you use that you love Roderick Duncan almost asmadly as you say he loves me."
"Well?" Beatrice raised her chin, and stood erect and defiant beforeher former friend. "Well?" she repeated. "And what if I do?"
Patricia shrugged her shoulders again, and turned slowly away, but asshe did so, said slowly and distinctly:
"Possibly, I am mistaken, after all. I had forgotten the attractivequalities of Mr. Duncan's millions." Beatrice gasped; but Patriciaadded, without perceptible pause: "I should warn you, however, thatMr. Duncan is under a verbal agreement with me! We are to meet andsign a contract, Monday morning. It seems to be my duty to remind youof that much, Miss Brunswick."
Patricia did not wait to see the effect of her words. Outwardly calm,she was a seething furnace of wrath within. She turned away abruptly,and passed through the open doorway into the hall. There, she stopped.She had nearly collided with Duncan and Jack Gardner, who were bothstanding where they must have heard all that had passed inside thelibrary. Both were plainly confused, for neither had meant to hear,but there had been no way to escape. Patricia understood the situationperfectly, and she kept her self possession, if they did not. For justone instant, so short as to be almost imperceptible, she hesitated,then, addressing Gardner, she said in her most conventional tones:
"Jack, will you take me to my car, please?"
"It's gone, Patricia," he replied, relieved by the calmness of hermanner. "Radnor took it, you know, when he made his escape. I supposeit is standing in front of some newspaper office, at the presentmoment, but God only knows which one it is. I'll tell you what I'lldo, though: I'll order one of my own cars around. It won't take fiveminutes, even at this ungodly hour. I always keep one on tap, foremergencies."
"I prefer not to wait," she replied. "It is only a short distance. Ish
all ask you to walk home with me, if you will."
"Sure!" exclaimed Gardner, glad of any method by which the presentpredicament might be escaped; and he called aloud to one of theservants to bring him his hat and coat.
Duncan had moved forward quickly, toward Patricia, to offer hisservices, but had paused with the words he would have said unuttered.He understood that the trying scene through which Patricia had justpassed, had embittered her anew against him; and so he stood asidewhile she went with Gardner from the house to the street. His impulsewas to follow, for he, also, wished to escape. Then, he was aware thathe still wore his hat. During the excitement, he had not removed it,since entering the house. He started for the door, but was arrestedbefore he had taken two steps, by Sally Gardner's voice calling to himfrantically from the library.
He turned and sprang into the room, to find that Beatrice was lying atfull length on the floor, with Sally sobbing and stroking her hands,and calling upon her, in frightened tones, to speak. But Beatrice hadonly fainted, and, when Duncan knelt down beside her, she opened herblue eyes and looked up at him, trying to smile.
In that instant of pity and remorse, he forgot all else save thestricken Beatrice, and what, in her anger, she had confessed toPatricia. The rapidly succeeding incidents of that day and night hadunnerved him, also. He was suddenly convinced of the futility ofwinning the love and confidence of Patricia, and, with an impulseborn, he could not have told when, or how, or why, he bent forwardquickly and touched his lips to Beatrice's forehead.
"Is it true, Beatrice? Is it true?" he asked her, in a low tone; and,totally misunderstanding his question, entirely misconstruing it'smeaning, she replied:
"God help me, yes. God help us all."
Then, she lapsed again into unconsciousness.
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