The Man in Lower Ten

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  CHAPTER XVI. THE SHADOW OF A GIRL

  Certain things about the dinner at the Dallas house will always beobscure to me. Dallas was something in the Fish Commission, and Iremember his reeling off fish eggs in billions while we ate our caviar.He had some particular stunt he had been urging the government tofor years--something about forbidding the establishment of mills andfactories on river-banks--it seems they kill the fish, either the smoke,or the noise, or something they pour into the water.

  Mrs. Dallas was there, I think. Of course, I suppose she must have been;and there was a woman in yellow: I took her in to dinner, and I remembershe loosened my clams for me so I could get them. But the only realperson at the table was a girl across in white, a sublimated young womanwho was as brilliant as I was stupid, who never by any chance lookeddirectly at me, and who appeared and disappeared across the candles andorchids in a sort of halo of radiance.

  When the dinner had progressed from salmon to roast, and theconversation had done the same thing--from fish to scandal--theyellow gown turned to me. "We have been awfully good, haven't we, Mr.Blakeley?" she asked. "Although I am crazy to hear, I have not said'wreck' once. I'm sure you must feel like the survivor of Waterloo, orsomething of the sort."

  "If you want me to tell you about the wreck," I said, glancing acrossthe table, "I'm sorry to be disappointing, but I don't rememberanything."

  "You are fortunate to be able to forget it." It was the first word MissWest had spoken directly to me, and it went to my head.

  "There are some things I have not forgotten," I said, over the candles."I recall coming to myself some time after, and that a girl, a beautifulgirl--"

  "Ah!" said the lady in yellow, leaning forward breathlessly. Miss Westwas staring at me coldly, but, once started, I had to stumble on.

  "That a girl was trying to rouse me, and that she told me I had been onfire twice already." A shudder went around the table.

  "But surely that isn't the end of the story," Mrs. Dallas put inaggrievedly. "Why, that's the most tantalizing thing I ever heard."

  "I'm afraid that's all," I said. "She went her way and I went mine.If she recalls me at all, she probably thinks of me as a weak-kneedindividual who faints like a woman when everything is over."

  "What did I tell you?" Mrs. Dallas asserted triumphantly. "He fainted,did you hear? when everything was over! He hasn't begun to tell it."

  I would have given a lot by that time if I had not mentioned the girl.But McKnight took it up there and carried it on.

  "Blakeley is a regular geyser," he said. "He never spouts until hereaches the boiling point. And by that same token, although he hasn'tsaid much about the Lady of the Wreck, I think he is crazy about her. Infact, I am sure of it. He thinks he has locked his secret in the cavesof his soul, but I call you to witness that he has it nailed to hisface. Look at him!"

  I squirmed miserably and tried to avoid the startled eyes of the girlacross the table. I wanted to choke McKnight and murder the rest of theparty.

  "It isn't fair," I said as coolly as I could. "I have my fingerscrossed; you are five against one."

  "And to think that there was a murder on that very train," broke in thelady in yellow. "It was a perfect crescendo of horrors, wasn't it? Andwhat became of the murdered man, Mr. Blakeley?"

  McKnight had the sense to jump into the conversation and save my reply.

  "They say good Pittsburgers go to Atlantic City when they die," hesaid. "So--we are reasonably certain the gentleman did not go to theseashore."

  The meal was over at last, and once in the drawing-room it was clearwe hung heavy on the hostess' hands. "It is so hard to get people forbridge in September," she wailed, "there is absolutely nobody in town.Six is a dreadful number."

  "It's a good poker number," her husband suggested.

  The matter settled itself, however. I was hopeless, save as a dummy;Miss West said it was too hot for cards, and went out on a balcony thatoverlooked the Mall. With obvious relief Mrs. Dallas had the card-tablebrought, and I was face to face with the minute I had dreaded and hopedfor for a week.

  Now it had come, it was more difficult than I had anticipated. I do notknow if there was a moon, but there was the urban substitute for it--thearc light. It threw the shadow of the balcony railing in long black barsagainst her white gown, and as it swung sometimes her face was in thelight. I drew a chair close so that I could watch her.

  "Do you know," I said, when she made no effort at speech, "that you area much more formidable person to-night, in that gown, than you were thelast time I saw you?"

  The light swung on her face; she was smiling faintly. "The hat with thegreen ribbons!" she said. "I must take it back; I had almost forgotten."

  "I have not forgotten--anything." I pulled myself up short. This washardly loyalty to Richey. His voice came through the window just then,and perhaps I was wrong, but I thought she raised her head to listen.

  "Look at this hand," he was saying. "Regular pianola: you could play itwith your feet."

  "He's a dear, isn't he?" Alison said unexpectedly. "No matter howdepressed and downhearted I am, I always cheer up when I see Richey."

  "He's more than that," I returned warmly. "He is the most honorablefellow I know. If he wasn't so much that way, he would have a careerbefore him. He wanted to put on the doors of our offices, Blakeley andMcKnight, P. B. H., which is Poor But Honest."

  From my comparative poverty to the wealth of the girl beside me wasa single mental leap. From that wealth to the grandfather who wasresponsible for it was another.

  "I wonder if you know that I had been to Pittsburg to see yourgrandfather when I met you?" I said.

  "You?" She was surprised.

  "Yes. And you remember the alligator bag that I told you was exchangedfor the one you cut off my arm?" She nodded expectantly. "Well, in thatvalise were the forged Andy Bronson notes, and Mr. Gilmore's depositionthat they were forged."

  She was on her feet in an instant. "In that bag!" she cried. "Oh, whydidn't you tell me that before? Oh, it's so ridiculous, so--so hopeless.Why, I could--"

  She stopped suddenly and sat down again. "I do not know that I am sorry,after all," she said after a pause. "Mr. Bronson was a friend of myfather's. I--I suppose it was a bad thing for you, losing the papers?"

  "Well, it was not a good thing," I conceded. "While we are on thesubject of losing things, do you remember--do you know that I still haveyour gold purse?"

  She did not reply at once. The shadow of a column was over her face, butI guessed that she was staring at me.

  "You have it!" She almost whispered.

  "I picked it up in the street car," I said, with a cheerfulness I didnot feel. "It looks like a very opulent little purse."

  Why didn't she speak about the necklace? For just a careless word tomake me sane again!

  "You!" she repeated, horror-stricken. And then I produced the purse andheld it out on my palm. "I should have sent it to you before, I suppose,but, as you know, I have been laid up since the wreck."

  We both saw McKnight at the same moment. He had pulled the curtainsaside and was standing looking out at us. The tableau of give andtake was unmistakable; the gold purse, her outstretched hand, my ownattitude. It was over in a second; then he came out and lounged on thebalcony railing.

  "They're mad at me in there," he said airily, "so I came out. I supposethe reason they call it bridge is because so many people get cross overit."

  The heat broke up the card group soon after, and they all came out forthe night breeze. I had no more words alone with Alison.

  I went back to the Incubator for the night. We said almost nothing onthe way home; there was a constraint between us for the first time thatI could remember. It was too early for bed, and so we smoked in theliving-room and tried to talk of trivial things. After a time even thosefailed, and we sat silent. It was McKnight who finally broached thesubject.

  "And so she wasn't at Seal Harbor at all."

  "No."

  "Do you know
where she was, Lollie?"

  "Somewhere near Cresson."

  "And that was the purse--her purse--with the broken necklace in it?"

  "Yes, it was. You understand, don't you, Rich, that, having given her myword, I couldn't tell you?"

  "I understand a lot of things," he said, without bitterness.

  We sat for some time and smoked. Then Richey got up and stretchedhimself. "I'm off to bed, old man," he said. "Need any help with thatgame arm of yours?"

  "No, thanks," I returned.

  I heard him go into his room and lock the door. It was a bad hour forme. The first shadow between us, and the shadow of a girl at that.