by Q. Patrick
“Favor!” echoed Lila with a slight diminution of effusiveness. “As I expect you know, your husband has been working for several years on a most important piece of research which has been financed by a special endowment fund. Yesterday I received a letter from the Abel Foundation which stated that the fund was to be discontinued immediately.”
“Oh, how terrible!” Lila forgot to control the guarded expression which had slipped into her eyes. “But—but what can I do about that?”
“Your husband has given all his time and energy to that research, Mrs. Trenton.” The professor had removed his spectacles and was wiping them deliberately on a corner of his handkerchief. “He has very nearly obtained results which would mean a great deal to chemistry—and to himself. But if we cannot raise five thousand dollars at once, the work will have to be abandoned.”
“Poor Paul!” sighed Lila. “But with a big, rich university like that I—“
“That’s just the point, Mrs. Trenton.” The professor slipped his spectacles around his ears and smiled sadly. “The university is not rich. It is heavily in debt to the city. Besides, even if the trustees were willing to listen to me, they could not possibly put through an appropriation until the end of the academic year.”
Lila patted the back of her head but did not speak.
“Your husband is not only a very brilliant man,” went on Professor Comroy. “He is also my greatest friend. If I had the money, I would gladly offer it myself. But I’m afraid I haven’t. That’s why I came to you.”
“But I don’t understand,” said Lila with a tightening of the lips. “Do you mean you want me to put up five thousand dollars?”
“It would only be a loan. There is some rather expensive apparatus to be bought. I’m sure you are as eager as I am that your husband should continue uninterruptedly with his work.” Lila thought a moment. Then she said with sudden, overripe sweetness. “Oh, I’m afraid it’s impossible. You don’t know how sensitive Paul is. Why, he’d rather starve than feel he was using
any of my money.”
“I haven’t told him that the fund has stopped,” said the professor quietly. “He need never know. It can be a little secret between the two of us.”
“Well, of course, I’d be delighted, but—but I’m afraid it’s quite out of the question.” Lila plucked nervously at the down on her cuffs. “Five thousand dollars is a lot of money. What with the depression and everything—I couldn’t possibly find it.”
Professor Comroy screwed up his bright, short-sighted eyes and he looked from the genuine pearls on Lila’s throat to the expensive furniture in the apartment. “I can only repeat,” he said at length, “that it means your husband’s happiness—the crowning of his life’s work. Surely, that is worth making a few sacrifices for, Mrs. Trenton.”
“Sacrifices!” Lila rose and stared at him with narrowing eyes. “Really, Mr. Comroy, I hardly feel it your place to tell me how I should spend my money.”
“I’m sorry.” The professor had also risen, and his cherubic face had lost something of its pleasantness. “But I want you please to consider this matter very seriously. I cannot believe that you are indifferent to your husband’s career even if you are not interested in the progress of science.”
“Science!” exclaimed Lila scornfully. “Do you suppose I’ve heard about anything else for the past fifteen years? It’s always, science, science, science. He’s going to do this. He’s going to do that. But he never gets anywhere so far as I can see. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be frank with you, Mr. Comroy. My husband has been a great disappointment to me. He’s weak—got no push. Why, he’s never made more than two thousand a year. I fail to see why I should support him at the university, too.”
“Very well, Mrs. Trenton,” said Professor Comroy with steely quietness. “I see that it was foolish for me to come.”
“It was not only foolish,” replied Lila, who was working herself up into a pitch of righteous indignation. “It was impertinent.”
The professor crossed abruptly to the door. “There is no need to tell you that I think your attitude a wrong one. Your husband is one of the finest men I have ever known.”
Lila shrugged the pink silk of her shoulders and lighted a cigarette.
“And what’s more, Mrs. Trenton, I feel I am old enough to tell you something for your own good.” Gilbert Comroy’s rotund form was standing by the door, and he was peering fixedly at her through his spectacles. “It is easy to feel that you owe obligations to no one. But there will come a time when you yourself may be in need of help; when you see all that you care most for in life falling about you like a pack of cards. It will not be very pleasant then to find yourself—absolutely alone.”
“Thank you, Mr. Comroy.” Lila spurted smoke from her nostrils. “Thank you for the charming little sermon.”
V
WHEN HATING RIVALS MEET
All the rest of the morning, Claire French struggled with the confusion of her thoughts. The night before when Larry had first told her about Lila Trenton, she had felt she hated him; had told herself that she could not even bear the sight of him again. But now she realized she had been deliberately blinding herself. He had been foolish, weak, but it takes more than that to make any real difference. Slowly, illogically, she had felt her anger and disgust shifting from him and settling upon Lila Trenton, the woman whom she had never even seen.
She could not get the thought of her out of her head. While she massaged, shampooed, chatted with clients, her mind was fixed on one thing only—her four-o’clock appointment at the Vandolan Hotel.
Her fingers were trembling when at last she collected her things, packed them in a suitcase, and hurried out into the street. She looked very young and very determined as she gave Mrs. Trenton’s name to the clerk and took the elevator to the twenty-seventh floor.
Lila opened to her with a rather querulous “Come in.” Claire stepped into the hall and, controlling her voice with an effort, said professionally:
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Trenton. I’m from the Mayfair Beauty Shop.”
As Lila languidly shook the folds out of her wrap, Claire regarded her with shrewd, critical eyes. She was handsome, the girl had to admit that. But her looks wouldn’t last much longer. Claire, with her expert knowledge of cosmetics, could detect instantly all the little devices which held up the slipping structure of Lila Trenton’s beauty.
Not a day under forty, she thought with sudden satisfaction. She eats too much and doesn’t get enough exercise.
“I’m not altogether pleased with the touch-ups they give me here,” Lila was saying, as she helped herself to a piece of chocolate candy without offering the box to Claire. “I hope you’re going to be more satisfactory.”
Suddenly a vision of Larry with this woman slipped into the girl’s mind. She had to grip tightly to the suitcase to keep herself steady. Her thoughts were racing. Everything that had been so confused before now seemed clear. She knew that she loved Larry—that she would do anything for him. All her high-sounding moral principles boiled down to the one, vulgar word—poweringly jealous of the woman who had played such an important part in Larry’s life. It was this moment of honest self-revelation that made her feel calm, assured.
“I’m ready, Mrs. Trenton—ready when you are.”
Claire fixed up a beauty parlor in the large, black-tiled bathroom. Lila was patronizing, but gossipy, divulging little intimate physical details about herself.
“It’s only at the roots that the gray patches show,” she murmured as the hot soapy water trickled around her ears. “Be careful it doesn’t get spotty.”
“Oh, it won’t be spotty.” Claire’s fingers worked firmly across the other woman’s scalp—more firmly, perhaps, than was strictly necessary.
Lila gave an irritated “Ouch.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Trenton. But it’s worth suffering a bit to be beautiful, isn’t it? Maybe there’s a boyfriend coming around toni
ght.”
“Maybe there is.” Lila’s voice was glossed with self-satisfaction. “I don’t see why all fun should stop when you’re married, do you? Particularly when you’re a girl and your husband’s so much older.”
Claire dried off the hair with a towel, put on her rubber gloves and started to work in the henna paste. She was amazed at the almost physical pleasure she felt at having Lila Trenton helpless and unsuspecting beneath her fingers.
“How about a facial when you’re through, Mrs. Trenton? The skin around your chin is getting rather flabby.”
“Flabby!”
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. Most women of your age have trouble with sagging muscles. I think I could do wonders to those lines around the mouth, too.”
“Listen,” said Lila tartly, “I asked for a touch-up. If I need anything else, I’ll tell you.”
There was an inscrutable smile on Claire’s lips. “Oh. I didn’t mean it that way, Mrs. Trenton. Really, you’re thirty-eight in an artificial light.”
Lila jerked her head backward. She was just about to speak when Claire cut in:
“Don’t talk, Mrs. Trenton, the henna might get in your mouth.” The atmosphere grew thicker as Claire rinsed out the hair and, selecting a warm, dry towel, wrapped it around Lila’s head like a turban.
For a moment the two women looked at each other’s reflections in the misty mirror without speaking. Lila’s exotic perfume had impregnated the steamy air. As it invaded Claire’s nostrils, she felt a vague wave of nausea. Once again she thought of Larry and knew that her control was weakening.
“Hot in here,” gasped Lila.
“Yes, it is.” Claire’s hands fell suddenly to her sides. Her voice, which had been soft, almost sycophantic, was hard as flint. “You fat, useless women always live in a stifling temperature.”
“What—what did you say?” Lila was gazing at her in utter astonishment.
“I said that fat, useless females like you always pamper yourselves. You overeat. You—“
“How dare you!” Lila’s voice rose to a high, furious scream. “Of all the impertinent, disgraceful—Get out of here. Get out, I say.”
“But your hair’s not dry, Mrs. Trenton. Surely, with the boyfriend coming in, you want to look your best.”
“This—this—I’ll report you. You’ll be dismissed instantly.”
“Lovely,” said Claire.
“And this Mayfair Beauty Shop—I shall call up your employers immediately.”
“Oh, I don’t think they’ll mind.” Claire was standing by the door, her gray eyes blazing. “And it would be worth it, anyhow. There’s lots of things I’d like to say to you, Mrs. Trenton. And lots of things I’d like to ask you, too. How does it feel to be getting old and fat? How does it feel to be cheating on your husband? How does it feel to be giving money to young men because you can’t get them any other way? Oh, there are so many things, but I guess you don’t even know the answers yourself.” Her laughter rose shakily. She was almost as hysterical as Lila herself. “If you knew how funny you looked sitting there with that towel around your head.”
Lila was completely taken aback. For a moment her lips could form no words. Then she rose to her feet and shouted stridently:
“Get out! Get out before I call the police!”
“I’m going.” Swiftly, Claire assembled her things and packed them in the suitcase. “I guess you’ll be able to dry your own hair, Mrs. Trenton. There will be no charge for what I’ve done to you. You’ll—you’ll be able to make yourself beautiful for that date with the boyfriend tonight. But before he comes round, take a good look at yourself.”
She gripped the suitcase, ran out of the apartment, and slammed the door behind her.
VI
A COVETOUS MAN
For one dreadful moment after Claire had gone, Lila Trenton’s anger gave way to a sensation bordering upon panic. Growing old! Could it be true? Swiftly she bent forward and gazed at her reflection in the steamy mirror. Despite the towel around her hair and the absence of make-up, the blurred reflection looked fresh, young, reassuring. Lila breathed a little sigh of relief. The girl was crazy. Of course, that was the explanation. Still, it had been very unpleasant. All that about buying young men! What a ridiculous thing to say. The girl must have a nasty mind—jealous, probably, or sex starved.
She had almost calmed down sufficiently to call the Mayfair Beauty Shop and complain when there was a knock at the door. For some reason she started nervously. The knock sounded again and she cried out an agitated:
“Who is it?”
“Hotel electrician to look at the refrigerator, madam.”
Lila crossed to the door. A young man in overalls stood on the threshold. He was dark, strong, rather attractive. Instinctively, Lila smiled.
“Come in,” she said, patting the towel around her head. “I was just washing my hair.”
The young man grinned back rather too intimately as she conducted him to the kitchen.
“Been working here long?” she asked.
“Just a couple of months, Mrs. Trenton.” The young man grinned again and moved his arm slightly so that it brushed against Lila’s thigh. “There’s not much money in it, but I sometimes get odd jobs on the side. I got a kid brother, you know. Putting him through school.”
“How nice of you! Oh, excuse me a moment.”
With her best smile Lila hurried away as the telephone rang. “Hello, what is it?”
“Mrs. Trenton?”
“Yes.”
“This is the manager speaking. There is nothing to be worried about, but several of our guests have registered complaints of petty theft the past few days. We are asking every one to keep their doors locked—especially in the apartments like yours which have back doors leading onto the fire escape.”
“Oh, all right,” said Lila testily. “But why must you bother me with things like that? There’s a house detective, isn’t there?”
“Yes, Mrs. Trenton,” said the voice wearily. “We do all we can to protect our guests, but the detective can’t be everywhere at the same time.”
Lila put down the receiver and returned to the kitchen. The young man unbent as she entered.
“Well, Mrs. Trenton, the refrigerator’s in pretty good shape.” His dark eyes were appraising her boldly. Thrusting his hands in his trousers pockets, he sauntered into the living room. “Nice place you’ve got here. Gee, it must be swell to have money.”
Lila was wondering whether her hair was dry enough to look pretty without the towel. She decided to go into the bedroom and see. The young man followed her in.
“Geez,” he said, “I wish I was a girl. Maybe then you could use me around this place, Mrs. Trenton. I’m pretty good at housework, too. Used to be a houseboy when I was a kid.”
Lila felt a tingling thrill of excitement. The young man was very near.
“Is there anything you’d like me to do for you before I go, Mrs. Trenton?”
His dark eyes were playing on the rose-colored quit. “Why—er—yes,” said Lila hurriedly. “You might light the fire in the living room. I—I want to dry my hair.”
“O.K., Mrs. Trenton.” The young man had taken out a cigarette and was glancing at her over the match flame. “Got kindling?”
“What? Oh, I—I don’t know. No, I don’t think so. But there’s some wood on the little balcony just outside the back door. You’ll find a hatchet there, too.”
The young man strolled into the kitchen, and Lila could hear the strong blows of the hatchet outside. For some reason which she could not define, she felt nervous. That crazy girl from the beauty parlor must have upset her more than she had thought.
She actually started when a few minutes later the bedroom door was pushed open and the young man stood on the threshold.
“The fire’s ready and waiting,” he said.
“Oh! Oh, thank you very much. Did you lock the back door?”
“Sure. I locked it all right.”
His gaze moved casually around the room, settled on the dressing table, and then flicked away.
“If ever you need me, Mrs. Trenton, it’s easy to get me. Sam Nolan’s the name.”
He made no attempt to leave. After a second’s indecision, Lila rose and slipped past him. She felt his breath warm against her cheek. Once again she experienced that momentary sensation of nervousness.
But the living room reassured her. When she saw the fire crackling cheerfully in the grate, she felt her silly fears disappear and her coquetry return.
“Well, Sam, thanks a lot. And I’ll certainly think of you if I want anything.”
“Do that, Mrs. Trenton.”
He had moved close again. His dark face with its slightly full, drooping mouth was smiling meaningly. A sudden glow swept through Lila. This man was young, attractive. And yet he obviously found her desirable. To think that girl had said she was old!
Sam Nolan was still gazing at her fixedly. Lila flushed. Then the color drained from her cheeks. Suddenly she realized what the boy was looking at. That eager, covetous expression was not directed toward herself. His eyes were fixed, not on her face but on the string of pearls around her throat. Almost instinctively she had moved toward the telephone.
“Well,” she faltered, “what are you waiting for?”
The young man jerked his eyes away. “Sorry, Mrs. Trenton. Just daydreaming.”
The door slipped shut behind him. Sam Nolan moved down the corridor with a hand thrust deep in his trousers pocket. Between his fingers he was gripping a key—the key to the back door of Mrs. Trenton’s apartment.
VII
A CALL FOR HELP
After he had gone, Lila felt the sensation of panic returning. “Why was he looking at my pearls?” she repeated time and time again in her mind. “Why was he looking at my pearls?”
And then the words of that girl from the beauty parlor slid back into her thoughts. “You’re getting old. You’re getting old.”
