Children of the Whirlwind

by Leroy Scott

  CHAPTER III

  Presently Hunt's mind shifted to Larry Brainard, whom Barney Palmer andOld Jimmie Carlisle had come here to see. Hunt had a mind curious aboutevery thing and every one; and blustering, bullying creature though hewas, he had the gift, possessed by but few, of audaciously thrustinghimself into other people's affairs without arousing their resentment.He was keen to learn Maggie's attitude toward Larry; and he spoke not somuch to gain knowledge of Larry as to draw her out.

  "This Larry--what sort of chap is he, Maggie?" As with most artists,talking did not interfere with Hunt's painting.

  Warm color slowly tinted Maggie's cheeks. "He's clever," she saidpositively. "You already know that. But I was only a girl when he wassent away."

  Hunt smiled at her idea of her present maturity, implied by her lastsentence. "But you lived with the Duchess for a year before he was sentaway. You must have seen a lot of him, and got to know him well."

  "Oh, he used to come down now and then to see his grandmother--I wasonly fifteen or sixteen then--just a girl, and he didn't pay muchattention to me. Father can tell you better just how smart he is."

  Old Jimmie spoke up promptly. He knew Hunt was not a police stool, andhe liked the painter as much as it was in him to like any man; so hefelt none of the reserve or caution that might have controlled him inother company.

  "You bet Larry's smart! Got the quickest brain of any con man in thebusiness--and him only about twenty-seven now. Some think I'm a smoothproposition myself, but Larry puts it all over me. That's why I'mwilling to let him be my boss. He's a wonder at thinking up new stunts,and then at working out safe new ways of putting them across."

  "But the police landed him at last," commented Hunt.

  "Yes, but that was only because another man muffed his end of the job."

  The handsome Barney Palmer had been restless during Old Jimmie's eulogy."Oh, Larry's all to the good--but he's not the only party that's gotreal ideas."

  "Huh!" grunted Old Jimmie. "But you'll remember that we haven't put overany big ones since Larry's been in stir."

  "That's been because you wouldn't listen to any of my ideas!" retortedBarney. "And I handed out some peaches."

  Even during the period of Larry's active reign it had irked Barney toaccept another man as leader, and it had irked him even more during theinterregnum while Larry was guest of the State. For Barney believed inhis own Napoleonic strain.

  "Don't let yourself get sore, Barney," Old Jimmie said appeasingly."You'll have plenty of chances to try out your ideas as the main guybefore you cash in. You know the outfit wanted to lay low for a while,anyhow. But we'll be putting over a lot of the big stuff when Larry getsout."

  Hunt had noted a quick light come into Maggie's dark eyes while herfather praised the absent leader. He himself suddenly perceived a newpossibility.

  "Maggie, ever think about teaming up with Larry?" he demanded, with hisaudacious keenness.

  She flushed, and hesitated. He did not wait for her slow-coming reply,but turned to her father.

  "Jimmie, did Larry ever use women in his stunts?"

  "Never. Whenever we suggested using a skirt, Larry absolutely said therewas nothing doing. That's one point where he was all wrong. Nothinghelps so much, when the sucker is at all sentimental, as a clever,good-looking woman. And Larry'll come around to it all right. He'llsee the sense of it, now that he's older and has had two years to thinkthings over."

  Old Jimmie nodded, showing his yellow teeth in a sly grin. "You saidsomething a second ago: Maggie and Larry! They'll make a wonder of ateam! I mean that she'll work under him with the rest of us. I've beenthinking about it a long while. Mebbe you haven't guessed it, but we'vebeen coaching her for the part, and she's just about ripe. She's gotthe looks, and we can dress her right for whatever job's on hand. Oh,Larry'll put over some great things with Maggie!"

  If Hunt felt that there was anything cynically unpaternal in this fatherplanning for his daughter a career of crime, he gave no sign of it. Hisattention was just then all on Maggie. He saw her eyes grow yet morebright at these last sentences of her father: bright with the vision ofapproaching adventure.

  "The idea suits you, Maggie?" he asked.

  "Sure. It'll be great--for Larry is a wonder!"

  Barney Palmer suddenly rose, his face twisted with anger. "I'm all fedup on this Larry, Larry, Larry! Come on, Jimmie. Let's get uptown."

  Wise Old Jimmie saw that Barney was near an outburst. "All right,Barney, all right," he said promptly. "Not much use waiting any longer,anyhow. If Larry comes, we'll fix it with the Duchess to meet himtomorrow."

  "Then so-long, Maggie," Barney flung at her, and that swagger ex-jockey,gambler, and clever manipulator of the confidence of people with money,slashed aside the shabby burlap curtains with his wisp of a bamboowalking-stick, and strode out of the room.

  "Good-night, daughter," and Old Jimmie crossed and kissed her. Shekissed him back--a perfunctory kiss. Maggie had never paused to thinkthe matter out, but for some reason she felt little real affection forher father, though of course she admired his astuteness. Perhaps herunconscious lack of love was due in part to the fact that she had neverlived with him. Ever since she remembered he had boarded her out, hereand there, as he was now boarding her at the Duchess's--and had onlycome to visit her at intervals, sometimes intervals that stretched intomonths.

  "Barney is rather sweet on you," remarked Hunt after the two were gone.

  "I know he is," conceded Maggie in a matter-of-fact way.

  "And he seems jealous of Larry--both regarding you, and regarding thebunch."

  "He thinks he can run the bunch just as well as Larry. Barney's cleverall right, and has plenty of nerve--but he's not in Larry's class. Notby a million miles!"

  Hunt perceived that this daring, world-defying, embryonically beautifulmodel of his had idealized the homecoming nephew of the Duchess into herespecial hero. Hunt said no more, but painted rapidly. Night had fallenoutside, and long since he had switched on the electric lights. Heseemed not at all finicky in this matter of light; he had no supposedlyindispensable north light, and midday or midnight were almost equallyapt to find him slashing with brush or scratching with crayon.

  Presently the Duchess entered. No word was spoken. The Duchess,noteworthy for her mastery of silence, sank into a chair, a bent andshrunken image, nothing seemingly alive about her but her faintlygleaming, deep-set eyes. Several minutes passed, then Hunt lifted thecanvas from the easel and stood it against the wall.

  "That's all for to-day, Maggie," he announced, pushing the easel to oneside. "Duchess, you and this wild young thing spread the banquet-tablewhile I wash up."

  He disappeared into a corner shut off by burlap curtains. From withinthere issued the sound of splashing water and the sputtering roar ofsnatches of the Toreador's song in a very big and very bad baritone.

  Maggie put out a hand, and kept the Duchess from rising. "Sitstill--I'll fix the table."

  Silently the Duchess acquiesced. Maggie had never felt any tendernesstoward this strange, silent woman with whom she had lived for threeyears, but it was perhaps an indication of qualities within Maggie,whose existence she herself never even guessed, that she instinctivelypushed the old woman aside from tasks which involved any physicaleffort. Maggie now swung the back of a laundry bench up to form atable-top, and upon it proceeded to spread a cloth and arrange a medleyof chipped dishes. As she moved swiftly and deftly about, the Duchesswatching her with immobile features, these two made a strangelycontrasting pair: one seemingly spent and at life's grayest end, theother electric with vitality and giving off the essence of life'sunknown adventures.

  Hunt stepped out between the curtains, pulling on his coat. "You'll findthat chow in my fireless cooker will beat the Ritz," he boasted. "Thetenderest, fattest kind of a fatted calf for the returned prodigal."

  Maggie started. "The prodigal! You mean--Larry is coming?"

  "Sure," grinned Hunt. "That's why we celebrate."

  Maggi
e wheeled upon the Duchess. "Is Larry really coming?"

  "Yes," said the old woman.

  "But--but why the uncertainty about when he was coming back? Father andBarney thought he was due to get out yesterday."

  "Just a mistake we all made about his release. His time was up thisafternoon."

  "But you told Barney and my father you hadn't heard from him."

  "I had heard," said the Duchess in her flat tone. "If they want to seehim they can see him to-morrow."

  "When--when will he be here?"

  "Any minute," said the Duchess.

  Without a word Maggie whirled about and the next moment she was in herroom on the floor below. She did not know what prompted her, but she hada frantic desire to get out of this plain shirt-waist and skirt and intosomething that would be striking. She considered her scanty wardrobe;her father had recently spoken of handsome gowns and furnishings, but asyet these existed only in his words, and the pseudo-evening gowns whichshe had worn to restaurant dances with Barney she knew to be cheap anduneffective.

  Suddenly she remembered the things Hunt had given her, or had loanedher, the evening four months earlier when he had taken her toan artists' masquerade ball--though to her it had been a bitterdisappointment when Hunt had carried her away before the unmasking attwelve o'clock. She tore off the offending waist and skirt, pulled frombeneath the bed the pasteboard box containing her costume; and in fiveminutes of flying hands the transformation was completed. Her thick hairof burnished black was piled on top of her head in gracious disorder,and from it swayed a scarlet paper flower. About her lithe body, over ablack satin skirt, swathing her in its graceful folds, clung a Spanishshawl of saffron-colored background with long brown silken fringe, andflowered all over with brown and red and peacock blue, and held in placeby three huge barbaric pins jeweled with colored glass, one at eitherhip and upon her right shoulder, leaving her smooth shoulders bare andfree. With no more than a glance to get the hasty effect, she hurried upto the studio.

  Hunt whistled at sight of her, but made no remark. Flushed, she lookedback at him defiantly. The Duchess gave no sign whatever of being awareof the transformation.

  Maggie with excited touches tried to improve her setting of thetable, aquiver with expectancy and suspense at the nearness of themeeting--every nerve of audition strained to catch the first footfallupon the stairs. Hunt, watching her, could but wonder, in case Larry wasthe clever, dashing person that had been described, what would be theoutcome when these two natures met and perhaps joined forces.