Sound of the Trumpet

by Grace Livingston Hill

  John suddenly turned on the man and glared at him.

  “You mean that you want me to be a miserable spy against my own country and what they are doing to defend our country and what they are doing to defend our freedom? Is that it? Well you can get out, you louse! And take this answer back. NO! Never will I lend myself to such treason, not for all the money in the world! That’s flat and final! Good-bye!”

  John swung himself aboard the bus which had just stopped to let a passenger off and was now about to start. But Entry’s voice pursued him as the door was closing. “Well, kid, think it over. I’ll be seeing you.” When John looked back at the corner, the man had vanished.

  Two blocks farther on, John swung off the bus and made his way to a police station where he reported what had been said to him, and then hurried to his grandmother’s comfortable little apartment. She welcomed him with her eyes and she flashed for him her poor twisted smile. John prepared a delicate meal for her and fed it to her, and then made her comfortable for the night in a gentle way he had. As she slept he sat and brooded over the state of things that had been opened up to him that afternoon, and his very blood boiled with indignation. Was it possible that such traffic as this was really going on in his beloved land? Hiring spies and treachery? He had read of such things, of course, but had never half believed them until now. And couldn’t that guy tell from looking at him that he wasn’t that kind of fellow? Well, he’d show them. If that stinking sneak came around again, he wouldn’t even look at him—but he’d see that the police got the high sign before it was too late to catch him.

  A long time John sat beside that simple bed and watched the sleeper, his thoughts growing more and more tempestuous. How his very soul ached to be in the great struggle to set his world free from such horror. He had heard men talk where he used to work, even if he hadn’t had time to read the papers or listen to the radio. The war news traveled fast around the gang as they worked, sometimes even anticipating the things that were happening, so that the men almost talked about things before they had really occurred. He knew that every able-bodied man ought to be out defending righteousness. And yet he knew for the present his duty lay here with this dear invalid. She had spent years working for him, helping him until he got his education. And now she was laid low and didn’t even know what dire distress had come upon the world.

  Or did she? How much had she seen from her small world in the library before the blow had fallen upon her? She was a reader, quick to know the signs of the times. Once when he had been home for a few days during vacation time she had spoken of the possibility that the war-torn world across the sea might even send the struggle to America.

  “Oh, I hope you won’t have to go away and be a soldier, John.” she had said with a sigh.

  There had been a prolonged silence, and then the boy had replied, “But Grandmother, if war should come here to defend a righteous cause, you wouldn’t want me to be a slacker?”

  And she had given him one yearning, distressful look and said with a deep sigh, “No, of course not, John.”

  And so he knew in his heart that if even now he could tell her all that was going on in the world and how America, their own dear land, had been called to do its duty and fight for victory and freedom, Grandmother’s tired eyes would flash with their old fire, and her locked lips would try to form words which would bid him go and fight with the rest. She would not want her necessity to be a hindrance to his doing his duty.

  But he would not leave her now. She was all he had left, and she had worn her own life out trying to help him. It wasn’t as if she were unconscious and wouldn’t know the difference if he were gone. He knew that his presence was a great joy to her. Her eyes told him that. But he had a strong belief that real duties never conflicted. There would be a way out, somehow, if circumstances changed.

  But whatever came, while he was at home at least, there would be things he could do for the cause of defense. He had a fairly good promise of a job he would be likely to get in a few days. It would not only enable him to make his grandmother more comfortable, but he would be definitely doing work that was needed in the war.

  At present he was hiring a pleasant elderly lady to care for his grandmother during the day. She wasn’t a regular nurse, and he wanted very much to be able to afford a professional nurse. Perhaps that would come pretty soon. But Mrs. Burke was doing her best, between looking after two little grandchildren when their mother was out working. It wasn’t an ideal arrangement, but it was the best he could afford now. Perhaps something better would come along pretty soon. It was for these reasons that the man’s suggestion of more money had at first caught and made him listen briefly in spite of his better judgment. But now as he thought it over, his lip curled at himself to think he had even seemed interested in the stranger.

  And then came the thought that perhaps here was something he could do for the war interest. He might be able to trace down some of these treacheries that were going on in the country. He would keep that in mind and be on the watch for suspicious characters. He wasn’t a trained detective, of course, but these days everyone must be on alert, ready to help in every way.

  Then he began to think about the man that had accosted him. Perhaps he should have found out where this work was going on that they wanted him to spy on and then warn the owner. But, on the other hand, would that mean there was danger of getting himself involved and suspected of something unlawful? He should be careful of that, of course, not for his own sake, but because of his grandmother. He must not do anything that would involve his staying away from her while she was in this critical condition, liable to have another stroke at any time, the doctor said. She depended on him. He could not bear to think of her anguished eyes searching the room in vain to find him. No, he must be cautious about whatever he did.

  To that end, perhaps he should avoid all contacts with such men as that stranger, at least for the present. But then, it wasn’t likely he would be approached again, not by that man anyway. The way he vanished so quickly showed that.

  Or did it? Would he come again someday when John least expected him? What approach would he use the second time? And what should be his own reaction? Apparently interested, or not? And how much could he count on the police? They had asked a good many questions, but would they be on hand when needed?

  These and other questions relating to fifth columnists kept thrashing themselves over in John’s mind until his brain grew weary and his eyes heavy with sleep. After listening to his grandmother’s steady breathing and making sure she was as comfortable as could be expected, he slipped into the small adjoining room. It was little more than a big closet, only large enough to hold a cot and a small pine table, and the only place he could call his own. Yet it was just right, for lying here he could hear if his grandmother needed him and could watch over her in the night.

  He was soon ready for sleep, and as he dropped down on his hard little cot and drew the covers up, strangely there came to him the face of that beautiful girl he had seen on the street that day, that girl whose glance had met his own. Why did she so continually haunt him with her pleasant beauty? She was no one he would ever be likely to know, nor even speak to. And yet, since he saw her early in the day, there had not passed a minute when the memory of her had not come to haunt him, to taunt him as with something unattainable. He was half angry with her for having made such a strong impression upon him and wholly angry with himself for allowing the vision of her to come and go in his memory this way. He thought he had conquered it, swept it out of his mind. But just tonight he had happened to glimpse an item in the society column of the newspaper—a subject in which he had no interest whatsoever and never consciously looked at—that linked her name with Victor Vandingham’s. Vandingham, the man who had been his particular adversary in college. The man who had been the cause of more than one offense during their scholastic years in the same institution. The one who had assumed the right to ignore him, to discount him on every possible occasion, to
sneer at him because he did not have the money to finance the various enterprises in which Vandingham had been interested. The one who had prevented his being elected to membership in the finest fraternity and whose deciding vote had kept him from a number of honors his fellow students were ready to give him. And this young man was a close friend of the girl whose face and glance kept coming back to him! This must not go on! The paper even hinted very plainly that she was engaged to Victor Vandingham! And he was haunted by her vision as if in some subtle way her spirit belonged to him.

  Fiercely he frowned and turned away from the thought of her. No woman should tempt him to let his thoughts dwell on her, no matter how brave or beautiful a vision she might be. She was not born into his world. And he doubted if he would ever find one who would fit into his life. He was fashioned of harder clay, meant to fight and die for freedom perhaps, that others might enjoy. Not meant to live at ease for happiness.

  So again and again he disciplined his thoughts, until he felt he had almost forgotten how she looked and the thought of her was far away. A moment of weakness, he told himself, the result of longings that sometimes came over him for his mother, whom he could just remember. A beautiful mother, sweet and tender with him, and gentle to everyone. Beautiful, too. For even a child knows beauty, and to the little one who first judges womanhood by the face of his smiling mother, his ideal grows great, so that he is not easily satisfied by one who does not measure up.

  The man did not appear for some days, and John began to feel that he must have dreamed the whole occurrence. Several times he had seen a policeman friend of his hovering on the outskirts of the group where he was working, giving a wink and a lifting of the hand toward him as had been agreed upon between them, and John could only lift his brows and shrug his shoulders, showing to the officer that the man had not appeared. So the policeman blended into the distance and disappeared.

  Then one day, quite two weeks from his first appearance, the man returned to the roadside. Of course, it was not the same location where John had first seen him, but again he stood most casually as an onlooker for a few seconds, and John glanced up to see him looking straight at him, a half-amused smile on his lips as if there were a secret understanding between them. John was ready for that. He ignored the glance, swept his own eyes across the crowd, and dropped them down to his work again. He did not look that way again. Later, when the day was done and John started for home, he could not see the man anywhere, and when he passed his policeman friend who had suddenly appeared, he nodded his head as agreed upon to show that he had seen this man again.

  To an observer the policeman showed no sign that any communication had passed between them, and John made his way home. Three blocks farther on Kurt Entry fell into step beside him.

  “Well, how about it, young fella? You thought that matter over yet?”

  “Thought what matter over?” he asked indifferently.

  “That little matter of getting yourself a larger salary?”

  “Oh! That!” said John. “I’d almost forgotten that. You see, I never place much significance on a proposition unless I know who’s behind it. And, of course, the way you made it out, I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole, not even if the angel Gabriel was financing it. I’m an American. I’m not a traitor!”

  “Now see here, young fella,” said Entry, “you got me all wrong the other night. I wasn’t proposing anything illegal at all. You didn’t stay to hear me explain. You just went off half-cocked on that bus, and my news is too private to shout to the universe. It’s government secrets, you know. And my proposition was an all-right proposition, with reliable people behind it. People who’d never go against the government, not for worlds. As loyal people as you’d care to meet anywhere. Reliable and respected people as there is in the city.”

  “Yeah? Who, for instance?”

  Entry’s eyes narrowed. He cast a furtive glance behind him and then sidled nearer to his companion and lowered his tone. “Know anybody by the name of Vandingham?”

  John looked up with a quick wonder in his eyes, instantly concealed.

  “Seems to me I’ve heard the name,” he said, thoughtfully, almost disinterestedly. “So you mean they are the people offering this big salary. Is that right?”

  “Not on yer life it ain’t,” said Entry. “They are the folks who are making the stuff on the government job. They’d be the folks you’d be working for, see? But the big dough would come from an entirely different party, and they’d be the ones you’d have to satisfy. The folks that want the dope.”

  “Yeah? Well, who are they?”

  “Oh, that’s a military secret,” said Entry. “You wouldn’t likely come in contact with them at all. You’d get your check through the mail perhaps, or money order, or whatever, I don’t know which, or else sometimes in cash through a go-between.”

  “You, do you mean?” asked John with a quick glance at the man.

  “Oh, no, not me,” said Entry. “I never handle the money on such details. I just get my ten percent. You see, I’m pretty busy myself, sometimes traveling for my firm. But when I hear of a good thing like this, I like to help my fellow man by passing it on, and also make a little money myself on the side. I figure it’s only fair if I put you on to a lotta dough, that I should have my share for making it known to you. Ain’t that so?”

  “I suppose it’s all in the way you look at it,” said John, and continued on his steady gait, breaking into a merry whistle now and again.

  Entry stalked by his side, giving him a sidewise, curious glance amid a growing impatience.

  “Well, what do you say? Shall I put you down for my man? It doesn’t do to be too slow accepting a good thing, you know. Vandinghams are hiring men right and left, and they may get all their places filled if I don’t give them your name tonight. You’ve got to get the job, you know, before you’d be in a position to give out facts.”

  “Yeah, I see,” said John, grinning.

  “There ain’t any hitch. It’s just common sense. You can’t do my folks any good unless you’re in a position to get their information. Now, once for all, are you interested in getting that job with the Vandinghams?”

  “No,” said John soberly, “I’m not interested.”

  Entry gave him a sharp look, and then suddenly became aware of two men approaching. They were not in uniform, but Entry was well versed in the art of escape and dodging suspicion. His eyes narrowed. He lowered his head. Let his feet drag a little, as if he were about to turn back. Looked up at John and said in a low tone, “Then I’m afraid I can’t promise to hold this any longer for you. I will probably not return unless I find there are still openings. Good-bye!”

  He scuttled diagonally across the street to an alley and disappeared. But John, with an eye toward the approaching pedestrians and a grin on his lips, shouted, “Definitely, not interested.”

  The two men approaching turned their eyes toward the place where Entry had disappeared and plunged across the street themselves, giving John a hurried salute as they went.

  Chapter 5

  After the football game there was a formal truce between Lisle and Victor. That is, it was formal on Lisle’s part and warm and friendly on Victor’s. Victor had been on his good behavior the rest of the afternoon and took great pains to be attentive and interesting. He talked at length about games he had been seeing elsewhere and bought candy and peanuts and pennants and flowers for his girl, just as he used to when they were very young. He acted out the old-time comradeship.

  Sometimes she wondered at him greatly. For though she was pleasant, the old comradely friendliness was missing from her manner, and he must have noticed, even if he didn’t show his disappointment. It suited his purpose at the time to keep Lisle in the old intimacy, for he had been surprised beyond measure at her reaction to his behavior at the store, and at present it wasn’t in his plan to have any disaffection arise.

  For in truth his future was rather a muddle at present, between the party and the war
possibilities. The chance that he might find a place in the scheme of things that would enable him to remain honorably at home made it desirable that there should be no disaffection, no gossip, no outward break between the families. Therefore Victor put aside his newly acquired insolence and was just a friend as he used to be. This attitude on Victor’s part made it very much easier for Lisle to continue her friendliness. Although she was just a shade more distant than she used to be—quieter, more silent, not quite so joyous and smiling, more dignified, a bit cool.

  But it didn’t seem to bother Victor in the least. With his nonchalant self-assurance, he went calmly on his usual way, taking it for granted that whenever he got ready he could easily change his old friend’s attitude and bend her to his will.

  But Lisle, on the other hand, was not quite as ready, as in former days, to accept all his invitations or to take it for granted that he was always to be her escort. She was often now seen in company with other young men and acted as if it were a matter of course that she had other friends besides himself.

  If Victor did not like this he never let it be known. He just took for granted that if he wanted her badly enough, she would be his companion, no matter who else had chosen to ask her.

  But Lisle was quietly working it so that she would have a number of other escorts and was not always available when Victor came to claim her. Sometimes this state of things distressed her mother, who had always been fond of Victor and felt that his family were beyond reproach. She had excused his conduct at the store as being only a boy playing a prank, and she was often dismayed at the definite hostility toward the young man that she continually saw in her daughter. She was always hoping that there would soon be a better understanding between the two young people. She was a woman who found it very hard to give up an ideal that she had cherished for years. So, whenever Lisle went out with Victor and seemed fairly happy about it, she drew a deep breath of relief and kept hoping that the lad would forget his new-found standards and return to the ways of his childhood.