CHAPTER III
AN ENCOUNTER
Mr. Heatherbloom, a few days later, sat one morning in Central Park. Hiscanine charges were tied to the bench and while they chafed at restraintand tried vainly to get away and chase squirrels, he scrutinized one ofthe pages of a newspaper some person had left there. What the young manread seemed to give him no great pleasure. He put down the paper; thenpicked it up again and regarded a snap-shot illustration occupying aconspicuous position on the society page.
"Prince Boris Strogareff, riding in the park," the picture was labeled.The newspaper photographer had caught for his sensational sheet anexcellent likeness of a foreign visitor in whom New York was at the timegreatly interested. A picturesque personality--the prince--halfdistinguished gentleman, half bold brigand in appearance, was depictedon a superb bay, and looked every inch a horseman. Mr. Heatherbloomcontinued to stare at the likeness; the features, dark, ratherwild-looking, as if a trace of his ancient Tartar ancestry had survivedthe cultivating touch of time. Then the young man on the bench once moreturned his attention to the text accompanying the cut.
"Reported engagement of Miss Elizabeth Dalrymple to Prince BorisStrogareff ... the prince has vast estates in Russia and Russia-Asia ...his forbears were prominent in the days when Crakow was building and theCossacks and the Poles were engaged in constant strife on the steppe ...Miss Dalrymple, with whom this stalwart romantic personage is said to bedeeply enamored, is niece and heiress of the eccentric Miss Van Rolsen,the third richest woman in New York, and, probably, in the world ...Miss Dalrymple is the only surviving daughter of Charles Dalrymple ofSan Francisco, who made his fortune with Martin Ferguson of the sameplace, at the time--"
The paper fell from Mr. Heatherbloom's hand; for several moments he satmotionless; then he got up, unloosened his charges and moved on. Theynaturally became once more wild with joy, but he heeded not theirexuberances; even Naughty's demonstrations brought no answering touch ofhis hand, that now lifted to his breast and took something from hispocket--an article wrapped in a pink tissue-paper. Mr. Heatherbloomunfolded the warm-tinted covering with light sedulous fingers and lookedsteadily and earnestly at a miniature. But only for a brief interval; bythis time Curly et al. had become an incomprehensible tangle of dog andleading strings about Mr. Heatherbloom's legs. So much so, indeed, thatin the effort to extricate himself he dropped the tiny picture; with asudden passionate exclamation he stooped for it. The anger thattransformed his usually mild visage seemed about to vent itself on hischarges but almost at once subsided.
Carefully brushing the picture on his coat, he replaced it in hispocket and quietly started to disentangle his charges from himself. Thiswas at length accomplished; he knew, however, that the unraveling wouldhave to be done all over again ere long; it constituted an importantpart of his duties. The promenade was punctuated by about so many"mix-ups"; Mr. Heatherbloom accepted them philosophically, orabsent-mindedly. At any rate, while untying knots or disengaging things,he usually exhibited much patience.
It might have been noticed some time later that Mr. Heatherbloom,retracing his footsteps to Miss Van Rolsen's, betrayed a rathervacillating and uncertain manner, as if he were somewhat reluctant to gointo, or to approach too near the old-fashioned stiff and stately house.For fear of meeting some one, or a dread of some sudden encounter? WithMiss Van Rolsen's niece? So far he had not seen her since that firstday. Perhaps he congratulated himself on his good fortune in thisrespect. If so, he reckoned without his host.
It is possible for two people to frequent the same house for quite awhile without meeting when one of them lives on the avenue side andflits back and forth via the front steps, while the other comes and goesonly by the subterranean route; but, sooner or later, though belongingto widely different worlds, these two are bound to come face to face,even in spite of the determination of one of the persons to avert such acontingency!
Mr. Heatherbloom always peered carefully about before venturing from thehouse with his pampered charges; he was no less watchfully alert when hereturned. He could not, however, having only five senses, tell when thefront door might be suddenly opened at an inopportune moment. It wasopened, this very morning, on the third day of his probation at such amoment. And he had been planning, after reading the newspaper article inthe park, to tender his resignation that very afternoon!
It availed him nothing now to regret indecision, his being partlycoerced by the masterful mistress of the house into remaining as longas he had remained; or to lament that other sentiment, conspiring tothis end--the desire or determination, not to flee from what he mostfeared. Empty bravado! If he could but flee now! But there was nofleeing, turning, retreating, or evading. The issue had to be met.
Miss Dalrymple, gowned in a filmy material which lent an evanescentcharm to her slender figure, came down the front steps as he was aboutto enter the area way below. The girl looked at him and her eyessuddenly widened; she stopped. Mr. Heatherbloom, quite pale, bowed andwould have gone on, when something in her look, or the first word thatfell from her lips, held him.
"You!" she said, as if she did not at all comprehend.
He repaid her regard with less steady look; he had to say something andhe didn't wish to. Why couldn't people just meet and pass on, the waydumb creatures do? The gift of speech has its disadvantages--onoccasions; it forces one to insufficient answer or superfluousexplanation. "Yes," he said, "your--Miss Van Rolsen engaged me. Ididn't really want to stay, but it came about. Some things do, you know.You see," he added, "I didn't know she was your aunt when I answered theadvertisement."
She bent her gaze down upon him as if she hardly heard; beneath thebright adornment of tints, the lovely face--it was a very proudface--had become icy cold; the violet eyes were hard as shining crystal.To Mr. Heatherbloom that slender figure, tensely poised, seemed at onceoverwhelmingly near and inexpressibly remote. He started to lean on aniron picket but changed his mind and stood rather too stiffly, withoutsupport. Before his eyes the flowers in her hat waved and waved; hetried to keep his eyes on them.
"I had been intending," he observed in tones he endeavored to makelight, "to tell Miss Van Rolsen she must find some one else to take myplace. It would not be very difficult. It is not a position thatrequires a trained man."
"Difficult?" She seemed to have difficulty in speaking the word; hercold eyes suddenly lighted with unutterable scorn. If any one in thisworld ever experienced thorough disdain for any one else, her expressionimplied it was she that experienced it for him. "Valet for dogs!"
Mr. Heatherbloom flushed. "They are very nice dogs," he murmured."Indeed, they are exceptional."
She gave an abrupt, frozen little laugh; then bent down her faceslightly. "And do you wash and curl and perfume them?" she asked, hersmall white teeth setting tightly after she spoke.
"Well, I don't perfume them," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "Miss VanRolsen attends to that herself. She knows the particular essences betterthan I." A slightly strained smile struggled about his lips. "You seeBeauty has one kind, and Naughty another. At least, I think so. WhileSardanapolis isn't given any at all."
Can violet eyes shine fiercely? Hers certainly seemed to. "How," shesaid, examining him as one would study something very remote andimpersonal, "did my aunt happen to employ--you? I know she is veryparticular--about recommendations. What ones did you have? Were theyforged ones," suddenly, "or stolen ones?" The red lips like rosebuds hadbecome straightly drawn now.
"No," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "I didn't have any. I just came, and--"
"Saw and conquered!" said the girl. But there was no levity in her tone.She continued to gaze at him and yet through him; at somethingbeyond--afar--"I don't understand why she should have taken you--"
"Shall I explain?"
"And I don't care why she did!" Not noticing his interruption. "Theprincipal thing is, why did you want this position? What ulterior motivelay behind?" She was speaking now almost automatically, as if he werenot present. "For, of course, there was
some other motive."
"The truth is," observed Mr. Heatherbloom lightly, but passing anuncertain hand over his brow, "I had reached that point--I shouldqualify by saying I have long been at the point where one is willing totake any 'honest work of any kind'. I suppose you have heard the phrasebefore; it's a common one. But believe me, it was quite by accident Icame here; quite!"
"'Believe you'," said the girl, as one would address an inferior for thepurpose of putting him into the category where he belongs. "'Honestwork'! When have you been particular as to that; whether or not"--withmocking irony in the pitiless violet eyes--"it was 'honest'?"
Mr. Heatherbloom started; his gaze met hers unwaveringly. "You don'tthink, then, that I--"
"Think?" said the girl. "I know."
"Would you mind--explaining?" he asked quietly. He didn't need anysupport now, but stood with head well back, a steady gleam in his look."What you--know?"
"I know--you are a thief!" She spoke the Words fiercely.
His face twitched. "How do you know?"
"By the kind of evidence I can believe."
"And that?" he said in the same quiet voice.
"The evidence of my own eyes!"
He was still, as if thinking. He looked down; then away.
"Why don't you protest?" she demanded.
"Protest," he repeated.
"Or ask me to explain further--"
"Well, explain further," he said patiently.
"Put your mind back three weeks ago--at about eleven o'clock in themorning. Where were you? what were you doing? what was happening?"
Mr. Heatherbloom looked very thoughtful.
"At the corner of"--she mentioned the streets--"not far from RiversideDrive. We passed at that time in the car. Need I say more?"
His head was downbent. "I think I understand." His hand strokedtentatively his chin.
The silence grew; Beauty barked, but neither seemed to notice.
"Of course you can't deny?" she observed.
"Of course not," he said, without moving.
"You won't defend yourself; plead palliating causes?" ironically.
He picked at the ground with the toe of a shoe. "If I told you, on myhonor, I am not--what you have called me just now, would you believeme?" he asked gravely.
"On your honor," said the girl with a cruel smile. "Yours? No!"
"Then," he spoke as if to himself, "I don't suppose there's any use indenying. Your mind is made up."
"My mind!" she answered. "Can I not see; hear? Can _you_ not hear--thosevoices? Do they not follow you?"
He seemed striving for an answer but could not find it. Once he lookedinto the violet eyes questioningly, deeply, as if seeking there to readwhat he should say, but they flashed only the hard rays of diamonds athim, and he turned his head slowly away.
"I see," she remarked, "you remember; but you do not care."
"I--you reconcile the idea of my being _that_ very easily with--"
"It fits perfectly," said the girl, "with the rest of the picture; whatone has already pieced together; it is just another odd-shaped black bitthat goes in snugly. You appreciate the comparison?"
"I think I do," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "You are alluding to picturepuzzles. Is there anything more?" He started as if to go.
"One moment--of course, you can't stay here," said the girl.
"I had intended to go at once, as I told you," observed Mr.Heatherbloom.
"You had? You mean you will?"
"No; I won't go now. That is," he added, "of my own volition."
"You do well to qualify. Would you not prefer to go of your own volitionthan to have me inform my aunt who you are--what you are?"
He shook his head. "I won't resign now," he said.
"And so show yourself a fool as well as--" She did not speak the word,but it trembled on the sweet passionate lips.
He did not answer.
"Suppose," she went on, "I offer you the chance and do not speak, if youwill go--immediately?"
"I can't," he answered.
Her brows bent; her little hand seemed to clench. But he stood withoutlooking at her, appearing absorbed in a tiny bit of cloud in the sky.
"Very well!" she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
He looked quite insignificant at the moment; she was far above him; hisclothes were threadbare, the way thieves' clothes, or pickpockets',usually are.
"If you expect any mercy from me--" she began.
But she did not finish; a figure, approaching, caught her eye--thehandsome stalwart figure of a man; whose features lighted at sight ofher.
"Ah, Miss Dalrymple!"
Her face changed. "An unexpected pleasure, Prince," she said withalmost an excess of gaiety.
He answered in kind; she came down the steps quickly, offering him herhand. And as he gallantly raised the small perfumed fingers to his lips,Mr. Heatherbloom seemed to fade away into the dark subterraneanentrance.
A Man and His Money Page 3
