by Gwen Bristow
“I wouldn’t, boys, honestly I wouldn’t.”
They turned in astonishment. “And who do you think—” one of them began indignantly. But as he saw the tempting vision before him his hand loosened on Garnet’s wrist. The actress slipped past him, placing herself against the table so that she stood in front of Garnet.
“I hate to tell you, boys,” she advised them, “but you’re playing with fire.” She bent her head close to theirs and went on, her voice still a chummy half-whisper. “Her husband’s a steamboat pilot with a gun on each hip. He’s here with her, just stepped out and due back any minute, and only this afternoon he busted a fellow’s jaw for getting too close to her. I saw him do it, right in front of this very hotel.”
The two men were regarding her with interest. They had both let go of Garnet. “Say, I’ve seen you somewhere,” one of them was saying.
With a swish of skirts the actress lifted herself to sit on the table, pushing the book away to give her room. She was not looking at Garnet. Her attention was all on the two foggy-eyed men.
“Of course you’ve seen me,” she answered teasingly. “Can’t you think where it was?” She leaned sideways, supporting herself with one hand, and crossed her knees at the edge of the table with a movement that uncovered several inches of black silk stockings with white clocks.
“What you doing all by yourself?” the other man asked. It seemed to be the only greeting his fuddled head could think of.
“Well, I was looking for somebody to keep me company. Only I don’t know why I should want to pay attention to a couple of gents who never have noticed me enough to remember me, after all the time I’ve been around.”
“Say, I know!” He slapped her knee, laughing as though the recollection were a great achievement. “Down at the Flower Garden—” He began to sing, decidedly off key, several bars of her song about “The time I’ve wasted saying no.”
“Now then, that’s better.” She smiled upon him in congratulation, and the other fellow, not wanting to be outdone, began to whistle in some slight relation to the same tune. The actress laughed intimately. “Well, it sure is nice to run into a couple of my friends, unexpected like this. And just when I was feeling kind of lonesome, too. Maybe we could all have a drink together, what do you say?”
They said that was fine. They said it in a great many bumbling words. Garnet huddled back in her chair, keeping very quiet. She was not frightened any longer. She almost forgot she had ever been frightened. She looked and listened, while the men chattered and the actress went on with her inviting lines and gestures, and all Garnet’s thoughts concentrated into one big awesome phrase: “So that’s how they do it!”
She was so fascinated that she was almost sorry when she heard the actress say,
“They lock up the bar in this married women’s hotel at ten o’clock, but there’s a nice place down the street where we can get anything we want. You know, Tony’s.”
They wanted to go to Tony’s, they must go to Tony’s right away, and they made a great noise about it. None of the three paid any more attention to Garnet. The men got up. Their girl-friend steadied the shakier of the two with a hand on his elbow. As they passed her table she picked up her shawl, and they all three went out through the doorway by which the men had entered.
Garnet stared after them. She had a feeling that she ought to go now, and look for Oliver. But the actress had left her bonnet, so she must have meant to return, and Garnet wanted to thank her. How nice she was, how very kind—Garnet hardly knew how to express the idea of protection offered in such a way, but it was very kind all the same.
The waiter came in carrying a platter on which some raw oysters were arranged around a jar of horseradish. He looked around for his customer, but noticing her bonnet still there he set the platter on the table. A moment later the street door opened and the actress came in alone. She closed the door and slid a bolt into place, and came over to Garnet.
“It’s all right, dearie,” she said with a reassuring smile. “They won’t bother you any more.”
She was about to go back to her own table, but Garnet had sprung to her feet.
“Wait a minute. I—I don’t know how to thank you, but I’m very grateful.” She hesitated an instant, then rushed on. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“I know you didn’t, sweetheart. It’s all right.”
Garnet fumbled for words. She did not want to comment on the fact that while she hadn’t known what to do, the other girl so obviously had. But the actress was not at a loss. She patted Garnet’s arm, saying,
“You saw me bolt the door, didn’t you? They can’t get back in. So don’t worry.”
“I’m not worrying. I’m just so glad you happened to be here.”
“Why, I live in this hotel, dearie. I come in for supper lots of evenings after the show.”
“Tell me how you got rid of them,” Garnet begged.
“Oh, I lost ’em at Tony’s. Said I didn’t like what the bartender was showing us, and went around to see what was on the shelf.” She shrugged. “End of act.”
She had a gay voice and a friendly spontaneous smile. Garnet smiled back at her, shyly. The actress lost no beauty on close inspection. She had classic features and a skin like milk and roses, and her blue eyes did look as big as dimes.
“Please don’t go yet!” Garnet exclaimed. As she spoke she took a step nearer, and her hand brushed the edge of the table, knocking off the book of engravings. It fell on the floor, open. Before Garnet could bend to get it her companion was picking it up for her.
“What pretty pictures,” she said, straightening a crumpled page. “There now, keep it shut and the wrinkles will smooth out.” She smiled comfortingly. “You aren’t still scared, are you, dearie?”
“No indeed, I’m not scared any longer. That’s not why I asked you to stay. I wanted to tell you—I saw you tonight at the Flower Garden. You were wonderful!”
“Why, thank you. Mighty sweet of you to say so. I saw you there too, down in front with a gent.” She added, with a friendly amusement, “You hadn’t been there before, had you?”
“Why no. I’ve never been in New Orleans before. I’ve always lived in New York. This is my honeymoon trip.”
“And your husband’s showing you the town?”
Garnet nodded. “And I’m so glad to see you again now, so I can tell you how much I enjoyed your entertainment, Miss—why, I don’t know what to call you. There was a name on the program, Juliette something, but do I call you that?”
The actress looked at her with a sudden intensity that made Garnet uncomfortable. “Why don’t you want to call me that?”
“Why—my husband said it probably wasn’t your real name. He said most ladies in the theater took stage names. You see,” Garnet apologized, “you’re the first actress I’ve ever met. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
The other girl was laughing now, softly and kindly. “You’re not rude, darling. I don’t believe you could be rude if you tried. Your husband was perfectly right. Juliette is just a fancy tag, they like everything French in New Orleans. My name is Florinda.”
“Why—thank you, Miss Florinda,” Garnet said. She spoke slowly. Her mind had skipped back to the book of engravings. When the actress had picked up the book from the floor, she had smoothed out a page, and the picture on that page was labeled Florinda. But maybe it was just a coincidence. Garnet caught at her manners and added, “But I am being discourteous, asking your name before I told you mine. I’m Garnet Hale. Mrs. Oliver Hale.”
“And I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hale, and you’re a dear, and I’m glad you had fun at the show. Come back next week. I’ve got a couple of new songs, and a dress that’s going to take the roof off.” She kissed her fingertips in the air again. “Black satin. Fits like an onion-skin.”
She was so gay and unaffected that Garnet began to laugh. Maybe her name really was Florinda. Anyway, she was a darling person and Garnet felt quite at ease with her now. Just then t
hey heard the opening of the door that led from the lobby. Oliver came in, turning on the threshold to call to his men,
“And box it tight. There’s plenty of bumps on the way to Council Grove.”
Garnet spoke to Florinda. “That’s my husband. I want to tell him how kind you were to me.”
Oliver had a momentary look of surprise as he recognized Garnet’s companion, but he smiled and bowed as Garnet said, “May I present my husband?” That was all she could say, as she did not know Florinda’s last name. She went on to explain that two drunken men had been annoying her and Florinda had made them leave. Oliver started with indignation.
“How did they get in?” he demanded. “I thought that outside door was supposed to be locked at night!”
“Well, it wasn’t locked,” said Garnet. “They came right in from the street.”
Oliver spoke to Florinda gratefully. “Thank you very much. It was extremely kind of you, Miss—Miss La Tour, isn’t it?”
“No, it isn’t,” Florinda returned smiling. “As I was just saying before you came in, that’s a stage tag. My name is Grove, Florinda Grove.”
“I don’t know how to express my gratitude, Miss Grove.”
Garnet did not hear what they said next. She was thinking. The book of engravings, Florinda. And when Oliver came in, he was saying, “—on the way to Council Grove.” It was very odd for anybody to snatch a name out of the air like that.
The waiter came in with a tray holding the rest of Florinda’s supper. He paused in surprise as he saw the oysters still untouched. Florinda called to him,
“Hold it, Cicero. I met these friends of mine and started talking.” Turning back to Oliver, she dropped her voice confidentially. “Do me a favor, will you, Mr. Hale?”
“Certainly. What is it?”
“Don’t say anything about that door not being locked. The waiter there, he’s supposed to lock it every night at ten. But his little boy’s been awfully sick and he’s worried about him all the time, and when you’ve got worries on your mind you just can’t help forgetting things. You know how it is, don’t you? He’ll get in trouble if they find out.”
Oliver nodded understandingly. “Of course. I won’t tell on him.”
“Thanks. That’s mighty nice of you. Well, I guess I’ll say good night now and get my supper. I’ve got an early rehearsal tomorrow. Pleased to have made your acquaintance, I’m sure.”
She waved at them and went to her own table. Garnet looked back at her as they went out. She was thinking that she ought to be angry with Oliver for his carelessness in leaving her alone, after warning her that New Orleans was the wickedest port this side of Marseille. But she couldn’t feel angry, for if he hadn’t left her she would not have met Florinda. And while Florinda was a strumpet who danced in black lace tights, all the same Garnet thought she was one of the nicest people she had ever seen.
SIX
OLIVER WAS NOT SURPRISED when Garnet told him how Florinda had picked up the name she gave them. He laughed, and said it was time she learned not to ask people what their real names were. When she got into the wild spaces west of Santa Fe, she would meet a good many men who had left their names behind them.
Garnet was astonished. She hadn’t known about that. But she promised to remember.
They slept late the next morning, and it was nearly eleven o’clock when they went down to breakfast. One of Oliver’s clerks was waiting to speak to him, so after breakfast he gave Garnet the key and she started upstairs.
When she reached the second floor, she saw two men walking along the hall toward the head of the staircase. One of them was a big common-looking fellow with a red face; the other was more slender and more neatly dressed. They were talking heatedly. Evidently they were angry about something. As she approached them, Garnet heard the big red-faced man saying,
“—ain’t left the hotel, I’ll swear to that, the damn slippery—”
She did not hear the rest, for they went past her. Garnet glanced after them distastefully as she went on toward her own door.
Her rooms were near a turn in the hall. In the corner made by the turn was a big cabinet with glass doors, higher than her head. The cabinet held sea-shells and wax flowers and a lot of other souvenirs, with a sign saying you could buy them downstairs. Garnet paused to look up at the exhibit, wondering why tourists were always supposed to waste their money on trash they would never dream of buying at home.
A breeze from an open window blew her skirts around the corner of the cabinet. She took a step closer and drew the skirts away, handling them carefully to prevent a snag. Lifting her head again, she gave a start.
She was looking into the shadowy space between the wall and the cabinet. Huddled back into the space was the blond actress who had said last night that her name was Florinda Grove.
Florinda was bending forward, listening. The voices of the two angry men could still be heard, though their words were indistinct. Looking over her shoulder, Garnet saw them reach the head of the stairs and start down. She looked back at Florinda.
Florinda had not moved. She must have seen Garnet, but she gave no sign of it. Garnet saw now that she was sumptuously arrayed, in a green-striped taffeta dress and a cape of marten fur and a bonnet with green ribbons. Even in the shadows she was flashing with jewels. As she looked, Garnet was suddenly conscious of her own dress, a plain navy blue silk with white collar and cuffs. She wondered if Florinda had really meant to wear that outfit on the street. But she forgot Florinda’s clothes as she looked again at Florinda’s face.
By now her eyes were more used to the dimness. She could see that Florinda’s fine skin was chalky, and her features were stiff like those of a plaster cast. Florinda’s eyes were staring blankly at nothing. She looked like a woman scared out of her wits.
All of a sudden Garnet remembered the words of the big beefy man. “—ain’t left the hotel, the damn slippery—”
Good heavens, those men must have been talking about Florinda. They were looking for her, and she had rushed behind the cabinet to hide from them. Garnet could not imagine why they wanted her, but it must be for no good reason or Florinda would not be so terrified.
She thought quickly. Her own room was not twenty steps away. Nobody would think of Florinda’s being there.
Holding her skirts carefully, so that no rustle should attract attention, she walked into the narrow space. “Come with me,” she said sharply under her breath.
Florinda gave her a look of cold suspicion. “What do you want?” she demanded in a frightened whisper.
“Be quick, Florinda!” Garnet urged. “Come to my room.”
“Your room?” Florinda’s eyes went fearfully over her. From the hall came another sound of footsteps. Florinda’s hand closed tensely around Garnet’s wrist. A Negro maid went past, carrying a broom and dustcloth. Luckily she did not turn her head. They heard her knock at a nearby door and go in to do her daily cleaning. Garnet exclaimed, as vehemently as she could in a whisper,
“Don’t just stand here! Somebody else will see you the same as I did.”
Florinda gave a slow, doubtful shake of her head. “I don’t get it, dearie. What’s the idea?”
“Don’t you know me?” Garnet demanded.
“Sure, I know you. You’re the kid I talked to last night in the supper-room.”
“And now you’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
Florinda shrugged bitterly. She did not answer.
“There were two men bothering me last night,” said Garnet, “and you took care of me. Now there are two other men bothering you and I’m going to take care of you. Come to my room. Nobody’s going to look for you there.”
Florinda’s blue eyes widened. “Hell for breakfast,” she said earnestly.
Repressing a start at her shameless language, Garnet said,
“My room is just down the hall. I’ll stand at the door so you can tell which one it is.”
Without further argument she hurried to her bedroom door a
nd unlocked it, noticing thankfully that the room had been made up while she was at breakfast, so there would be no risk of intrusion.
Florinda came out from behind the cabinet. She gave a quick glance at both ends of the hall, picked up her skirts, and ran like a scared rabbit to where Garnet was standing. Drawing her inside the room, Garnet locked the door.
“Now then,” she said with determination, “you can wait here till they’ve gone.”
Florinda dropped into a chair. For a moment she sat up straight, looking around to make sure there was nobody else in the room. Then at length she leaned back, closing her eyes and taking deep slow breaths. The color began to come back into her face. Garnet waited, giving her time to recover.
After a minute or two Florinda opened her eyes. She turned her head with a smile of deep wondering gratitude.
“You are an angel,” she said. “You are a complete, unbelievable angel.”
Garnet did not feel angelic. She felt scared at this impulsive adventure and she was wondering where it was going to take her, but she did not want Florinda to know this. So she smiled back, asking, “Can’t I get you something to make you feel better?”
Florinda put her hand up and stroked her lips. She had on green kid gloves that matched the green stripes of her dress. “Could I have a drink of water? My mouth feels all dried up.”
“Why of course.” Garnet filled a glass at the washstand and brought it to her. “Wouldn’t you like a glass of wine?”
“No thanks, darling. I haven’t got wits enough right now to want to addle ’em.”
Garnet brought smelling-salts and a flask of lavender water from the bureau. “Take off your bonnet,” she said, “and I’ll bathe your forehead.”
“I’m not the fainting sort, Mrs. Hale,” Florinda protested in some surprise. But she obeyed, holding her bonnet in her lap and leaning back with her eyes closed while she whiffed at the smelling-salts and Garnet patted her temples with lavender water. Florinda’s white-gold hair was parted in the center and drawn back to show the tips of her ears, and in her ears was a magnificent pair of square-cut emeralds. Garnet gave an exclamation when she saw them.
