CHAPTER XI
THE CLEAN WILD THING
"The Reverend Francis Holliwell." Morena turned the card over and overin his hand. "Holliwell. Holliwell. Frank Holliwell." Yes. One of thefellows that had dropped out. Big, athletic youngster; left college inhis junior year and studied for the ministry. Fine chap. Popular.Especially decent to him when he had begun to play that difficult roleof a man without a country. Now here was the card of the ReverendFrancis Holliwell and the man himself, no doubt, waiting below. Jaspertried to remember. He'd heard something about Frank. Oh, yes. Theyoung clergyman had given up a fashionable parish in the East--smallNorman church, wealthy parishioners, splendid stipend, beautiful stoneNorman rectory--thrown it all up to go West on some unheard-of missionin the sagebrush. He was back now, probably for money, donationswanted for a building, church or hospital or library. Jasper inimagination wrote out a generous check. Before going down he glancedat the card again and noticed some lines across the back:
This is to introduce one of my best friends, Pierre Landis, of Wyoming. Please be of service to him. His mission has and deserves to have my full sympathy.
So, after all, it wasn't Holliwell below and the check-book would notbe needed. "Pierre Landis, of Wyoming." Jasper went down the stairsand on the way he remembered a letter received from Yarnall a longtime before. He remembered it with an accession of alarm. "I'veprobably let hell loose for your protegee, Jane; given your address,and incidentally hers, to a fellow who wants her pretty badly. Hisname's Pierre Landis. You're a pretty good judge of white men. Sizehim up and do what's best for Jane."
For some time after receiving this letter, Jasper had expected theappearance of this Pierre Landis, then had forgotten him. The fellowwho wanted Jane so badly had been a long while on his way to her.Remembering and wondering, the manager opened the crimson curtains andstepped into the presence of Pierre.
Even if he had had no foreknowledge, Jasper felt that, at sight of hisvisitor, his fancy would have jumped to Joan. It was the eyes; he hadseen no others but hers like them for clarity; far-seeing, grave eyesthat held a curious depth of light. Here was one of Joan's kindred,one of the clean, wild things.
Then came the gentle Western drawl. "I'm right sorry to trouble you,Mr. Morena."
Jasper took a brown hand that had the feel of iron. The man's face, ona level with Jasper's, was very brown and lean. It had a worn look, atrifle desperate, perhaps, in the lines of lip and the expression ofthe smoke-colored eyes. Jasper, sensitive to undercurrents, becameaware that he stood in some fashion for a forlorn hope in the life ofthis Pierre. At the same time the manager remembered a confidence ofJane's. She had been "afraid of some one." She had been running away.There was one that mustn't find her, and to run away from him, thatwas the business of her life. Pierre Landis was this "one," thesomething wild and clean that had at last come searching even intothis city. It was necessary that Jane's present protector should bevery careful. There must be no running away this time, and Pierre mustbe warned off. Jasper had plans of his own for his star player. Forone thing she must draw Prosper Gael completely out of Betty's life.
Jasper made his guest comfortable, sat opposite to him, and lighted acigarette. Although Pierre had accepted one, he did not smoke. He wasfar too disturbed.
"Frank Holliwell gave me a note to you, Mr. Morena. I got your addresssome years ago from Yarnall, of Lazy-Y Ranch, Middle Fork, Wyoming.I've been gettin' my affairs into shape ever since, so that I couldcome East. I don't rightly know whether Yarnall would have wrote toyou concernin' me or no."
"Yes. He did write--just a line--two years ago."
Pierre studied his own long, brown hands, turning the soft hat betweenthem. When he lifted his eyes, they were intensely blue. It was asthough blue fire had consumed the smoke.
"I've been takin' after a girl. She was called Jane on Yarnall's ranchan' she was cook there for the outfit. Nobody knowed her story nor hername. She left the mornin' I came in an' I didn't set eyes on her. Youwere takin' her East to teach her to play-act for you. I don't knowwhether you done so or not, but I've come here to learn where she isso that I can find out if she's the woman I'm lookin' for."
Morena smiled kindly. "You've come a long way, Mr. Landis, on anuncertainty."
"Yes, sir." Pierre did not smile. He was holding himself steady. "ButI'm used to uncertainty. There ain't no uncertainty that can keep mefrom seekin' after the person I want." He paused, the eyes still fixedupon Morena, who, uncomfortable under them, veiled himself thinly incigarette smoke. "I want to see this Jane," Pierre ended gently.
"Nothing easier, Landis. I'll give you a ticket to 'The Leopardess.'She is acting the title part. She is my leading lady and a veryextraordinary young actress. Of course, it's none of my business, butin a way I am Miss West's guardian--"
"Miss West?"
"Yes. That is Jane's name--Jane West. You think it is an assumed one?"
Pierre stood up. "I'm not thinkin' on this trip," he said; "I'mhopin'."
"I am sorry, but I am afraid you're on the wrong track. There may be aresemblance, there may even be a marked resemblance, between Miss Westand the person you want to find, but--again please forgive me--I am inthe place of guardian to her at present and I should like to knowsomething of your business, enough of it, that is, to be sure thatyour sudden appearance, if you happen to be right in your surmise,won't frighten my leading lady out of her wits and send her off toKalamazoo on the next train."
Pierre evidently resented the fashion of this speech. "I'm sorry," hesaid with dignity, "not to be able to tell you anything. I'll becareful not to frighten Miss West. I can see her first from a distancean' then--"
"Certainly. Certainly."
Jasper rang and directed his man to get an envelope from an upstairstable. When it came, he handed it to Pierre.
"That is a ticket for to-morrow night's performance. It's the bestseat I can give you, though it is not very near the stage. However,you will certainly be able to recognize your--Jane, if she is yourJane."
Pierre pocketed the ticket. "Thank you," he murmured. His face wasexpressionless.
Jasper was making rapid plans. "Oh, by the way," he said hurriedly,"if you should stand near the stage exit to-night, say at about twelveo'clock, you could see Miss West come out and get into her motor. Thatwould give you a fairly close view. But even if you find you aremistaken, Landis, be sure to see 'The Leopardess.' It's well worthyour while. You're going? Won't you dine with me to-night?"
"No, thank you. I wouldn't be carin' to to-night. I--I reckon I've gotthis matter too much on my mind. Thank you very much, Mr. Morena."
"Before you go, tell me about Holliwell. He was a good friend ofmine."
"He was a good friend to most every one he knowed. He was more thanthat to me."
"Then he's been a success out there?"
Pierre meditated over the words. "Success? Why, yes, I reckon he'sbeen all of that."
"A difficult mission, isn't it? Trying to bring you fellows to God?"
Pierre smiled. "I reckon we get closer to God out there than you dohere. We sure get the fear of Him even if we don't get nothin' else.When you fight winter an' all outdoors an' come near to death withhosses an' what-not, why, I guess you're gettin' close to _somethin'_not quite to be explained. Holliwell, he's a first-class sin-buster,best I ever knowed."
Morena laughed. He was beginning to enjoy his visitor. "Sin-buster?"
"That's one name fer a parson. Well, sir, I guess Holliwell is plumbclose to bein' a prize devil-twister."
"Tell me how you first met him. It ought to be a good story."
But the young man's face grew bleak at this. "It ain't a good story,sir," he said grimly. "It ain't anything like that. I must wish yougood-by, an' thank you kindly."
"But you'll let me see you again? Where are you stopping? Holliwell'sfriends are mine."
Pierre gave him the address of a small, downtown hotel, thanked himagain, and, standing in the hall, added, "If I'm wrong in the
notionthat brought me to New York, I'll be goin' back again to my ranch, Mr.Morena. I'm goin' back to ranchin' on the old homestead. I've got itfixed up." He seemed to look through Jasper into an enormous distance.Morena was almost uncannily aware of the long, long journey by whichthis man's spirit had trodden, of the desert he faced ahead of him ifthe search must fail. Was it wrong to warn Jane? Ought this man to begiven his chance? Surely here stood before him Jane's mate. Jasperwished that he knew more of the history back of Pierre and the girl. Aman could do little but look out for his own interests, when he workedin the dark. Which would be the better man for Jane?--this Jane sotrained, so educated, so far removed superficially from theungrammatical, bronzed, clumsily dressed, graceful visitor. In everyworldly respect, doubtless, Prosper Gael. Only--there were Pierre'seyes and the soul looking out of them.
Jasper said good-bye half-absently.
An hour later he went to call on Jane.
He found her done up in an apron and a dust-cap cleaning house withastonishing spirit. She and the Bridget, who had recently beensubstituted for Mathilde, were merry. Bridget was sitting on the sill,her upper half shut out, her round, brick-colored face laughingthrough the pane she was polishing. Jane was up a ladder, dustingbooks.
She came down to greet Morena, and he saw regretfully the sad changein her face and bearing which his arrival caused. Bridget was sent tothe kitchen. Jane made apologies, and sitting on the ladder step shelooked up at him with the look of some one who expects a blow.
"What is it now, Mr. Morena? Have the lawyers begun to--"
He had purposely kept her in the dark, purposely neglected her, lefther to loneliness, in the hope of furthering the purposes of ProsperGael.
"I haven't come to discuss that, Jane. Soon I hope to have good newsfor you. But to-day I've come to give you a hint--a warning, infact--to prepare you for what I am sure will be a shock."
"Yes?" She was flushed and breathing fast. Her fingers were busy withthe feather-duster on her knee and her eyes were still waiting.
"I had a visitor this morning--Pierre Landis, of Wyoming."
She rose, came to him, and clutched his arm. "Pierre? Pierre?" Shelooked around her, wild as a captured bird. "Oh, I must go! I mustgo!"
"Jane, my child,"--he put his arm about her, held her two hands inhis,--"you must do nothing of the kind. If you don't want this Pierreto find you, if you don't want him to come into your life, there's aneasy, a very simple, way to put an end to his pursuit. Don't you knowthat?"
She stared up at him, quivering in his arm. "No. What is it? How canI? Oh, he mustn't see me! Never, never, never! I made that promise tomyself."
"Jane, you say yourself that you are changed, that you are not thegirl he wants to find."
She shook her head desolately enough. "Oh, no, I'm not."
"He isn't sure that Jane West is the woman he's looking for. He'sfollowing the faintest, the most doubtful, of trails. He heard of youfrom Yarnall; the description of you and your sudden flight made himfairly sure that it must be--you--" Jasper laughed. "I'm talking quiteat random in a sense, because I haven't a notion, my dear, who you arenor what this Pierre has been in your life. If you could tell me--?"
She shook her head. "No," she said; "no."
"Very well. Then I'll have to go on talking at random. Jane at theLazy-Y Ranch was a woman who had deliberately disguised herself. JaneWest in New York is a different woman altogether; but, unless I'm verywrong, she is even more completely disguised from Pierre Landis. Ifyou can convince Pierre that you _are_ Jane West, not any other woman,certainly not the woman he once knew, aren't you pretty safely rid ofhim for always?"
She stood still now. He felt that her fingers were cold. "Yes. Foralways. I suppose so. But how can I do that, Mr. Morena?"
"Nothing easier. You're an actress, aren't you? I advised PierreLandis to stand near the stage exit to-night and watch you get intoyour motor."
Again she clutched at him. "Oh, no. Don't--don't let him do that!"
"Now, if you will make an effort, look him in the eyes, refuse to showa single quiver of recognition, speak to some one in the mostartificial tone you can manage, pass him by, and drive away, why,wouldn't that convince him that you aren't his quarry--eh?"
She thought! then slowly drew herself away and stood, her head bent,her brows drawn sharply together. "Yes. I suppose so. I think I can doit. That is the best plan." She looked at him wildly again. "Then itwill be over for always, won't it? He'll go away?"
"Yes, my poor child. He will go away. He told me so. Then, will youtry to forget him, to live your life for its own beautiful sake? I'dlike to see you happy, Jane."
"Would you?" She smiled like a pitying mother. "Why, I've given upeven dreaming of that. That isn't what keeps me going."
"What is it, then, Jane?"
"Oh, a queer notion." She laughed sadly. "A kind of kid's notion, Iguess, that if you live along, some way, some time, you'll be able tomake up for things you've done, and that perhaps there'll be anothermeeting-place--a kind of a round-up--where you'll be fit to forgivethose you love and to be forgiven by them."
Jasper walked about. He was touched and troubled. Some minutes laterhe said doubtfully, "Then you'll carry through your purpose of notletting Pierre know you?"
"Yes. I've made up my mind to that. That's what I've got to do. Hemustn't find me. We can't meet here in this life. That's certain.There are things that come between, things like bars." She made astrange gesture as of a prisoner running his fingers across the barredwindow of a cell. "Thank you for warning me. Thank you for telling mewhat to do." She smiled faintly. "I think he will know me, anyway,"she said, "but I won't know him. Never! Never!"
That night the theater was late in emptying itself. Jane West had actedwith especial brilliance and she was called out again and again. Whenshe came to her dressing-room she was flushed and breathless. She didnot change her costume, but drew her fur coat on over the green eveningdress she had worn in the last scene. Then she stood before her mirror,looking herself over carefully, critically. Now that the paint waswashed off, and the flush of excitement faded, she looked haggard andwhite. Her face was very thin, its beautiful bones--long sweep of jaw,wide brow, straight, short nose--sharply accentuated. The round throatrising against the fur collar looked unnaturally white and long. Shesat down before her dressing-table and deliberately painted her cheeksand lips. She even altered the outlines of her mouth, giving it apursed and doll-like expression, so that her eyes appeared enormous andher nose a little pinched. Then she drew a lock of waved hair downacross the middle of her forehead, pressed another at each side closeto the corners of her eyes. This took from the unusual breadth of browand gave her a much more ordinary look. A coat of powder, heavilyapplied, more nearly produced the effect of a pink-and-white,glassy-eyed doll-baby for which she was trying. Afterwards she turnedand smiled doubtfully at the astonished dresser.
"Good gracious, Miss West! You don't look like yourself at all!"
"Good!"
She said good-night and went rapidly down the draughty passages andthe concrete stairs. Jasper was standing inside the outer door andapplauded her.
"Well done. If it weren't for your pose and walk, my dear, I shouldhardly have known you myself."
Joan stood beside him, holding her furs close, breathing fast throughthe parted, painted lips.
"Is he here, do you know?"
"Yes. He's been waiting. I told him you might be late. Now, keep yourhead. Everything depends upon that. Can you do it?"
"Oh, yes. Is the car there? I won't have to stop?"
"Not an instant. But give him a good looking-over so that he'll besure, and don't change the expression of your eyes. Feel, makeyourself feel _inside_, that he's a stranger. You know what I mean.Good-night, my dear. Good luck. I'll call you up as soon as you gethome--that is, after I've seen your pursuer safely back to his rooms."But this last sentence was addressed to himself.
Joan opened the door and stepped out into the chill damp
ness of theApril night. The white arc of electric light beat down upon her as shecame forward and it fell as glaringly upon the figure of Pierre. Hehad pushed forward from the little crowd of nondescripts alwayswaiting at a stage exit, and stood, bareheaded, just at the door ofher motor drawn up by the curb. She saw him instantly and from thefirst their eyes met. It was a horrible moment for Joan. What it wasfor him, she could tell by the tense pallor of his keen, bronzed face.The eyes she had not seen for such an agony of years, the strange,deep, iris-colored eyes, there they were now searching her. Shestopped her heart in its beating, she stopped her breath, stopped herbrain. She became for those few seconds just one thought--"I havenever seen you. I have never seen you." She passed so close to himthat her fur touched his hand, and she looked into his face with acool, half-disdainful glitter of a smile.
"Step aside, please," she said; "I must get in." Her voice wasunnaturally high and quite unnaturally precise.
Pierre said one word, a hopeless word. "Joan." It was a prayer. Itshould have been, "Be Joan." Then he stepped back and she stumbledinto shelter.
At the same instant another man--a man in evening dress--hastilyprevented her man from closing the door.
"Miss West, may I see you home?"
Before she could speak, could do more than look, Prosper Gael hadjumped in, the door slammed, the car began its whirr, and they weregliding through the crowded, brilliant streets.
Joan had bent forward and was rocking to and fro.
"He called me 'Joan,'" she gasped over and over. "He called me'Joan.'"
"That was Pierre?" Prosper had been forewarned by Jasper and hadplanned his part.
She kept on rocking, holding her hands on either side of her face.
"I must go away. If I see him again I shall die. I could never do thatanother time. O God! His hand touched me. He called me 'Joan' ... Imust go...."
Prosper did not touch her, but his voice, very friendly, very calm,had an instantaneous effect. "I will take you away."
She laughed shakily. "Again?" she asked, and shamed him into silence.
But after a while he began very reasonably, very patiently:
"I can take you away so that you need not be put through thisunnecessary pain. I can arrange it with Morena. If Pierre sees youoften enough, he will be sure to recognize you. Joan, I did notdeserve that 'again' and you know it. I am a changed man. If you don'tknow that now I have the heart of--of devotion, of service, towardyou, you are indeed a blind and stupid woman. But you do know it. Youmust."
She sat silent beside him, the long and slender hand between her faceand him.
"I can take you away," he went on presently, "and keep you from Pierreuntil he has given up his search and has gone West again. And I cantake you at once--in a day or two. Your understudy can fill the part.This engagement is almost at an end. I can make it up to Morena. Afterall, if we go, we shall be doing Betty and him a service."
Joan flung out her hands recklessly. "Oh," she cried, "what does itmatter? Of course I'll go. I'd run into the sea to escape Pierre--"She leaned back against the cushioned seat, rolled her head a littlefrom side to side like a person in pain. "Take me away," she repeated."I believe that if I stay I shall go mad. I'll go anywhere--with anyone. Only take me away."
The Branding Iron Page 28
