by Rex Stout
“What time did this happen?”
“Hours ago; about seven o’clock—right after breakfast. What time is it now?”
Canby glanced at his watch. “Eleven.”
“They ought to be back soon. I’m waiting around. I’ll tell you what, Mr. Canby, I’m going to marry that girl if I have to take—no matter what. I can’t live without her; I’m not going back to the office or anywhere else until—Hello, here they are!”
So it was. Through the gate in the great hedge the Binot racer appeared and came spinning along the driveway. Canby and young Linwood rose hastily and crossed over, meeting it as it drew up near the garage. The expression on the youth’s face was one of anxiety and determination; on Canby’s, curiosity and inquiry.
“Good morning!” cried Nella, leaping out. “Oh, we’ve had such a fine ride!” She turned to Canby: “We missed you at breakfast. I peeped in your room, but you were asleep.”
This was hardly the manner of a girl who had just been subjected to dreadful insults, Canby reflected; and from the bewildered hopefulness on young Linwood’s countenance it seemed that he had arrived at the same conclusion. Nella turned her smile, first on one, then on the other, with perfect impartiality; and Canby, who was looking for signs, could find no slightest indication that she had made a decision, either voluntary or forced. The elder Linwood, having relieved himself of his duster, wanted to know of his nephew why the deuce he hadn’t gone to his office; but, though the reply was somewhat unsatisfactory, he immediately dropped the question. He regarded the young man with a quizzical, half-amused expression in his eyes; then abruptly turned to his host with a demand for drink, claiming a magnificent thirst.
They made for the piazza, Canby leading with Nella, and the two Linwoods bringing up the rear. It was cooler there, and a faint stir began to be felt in the air, promising relief for the afternoon. Nella and Tom sat in a porch swing, talking by fits and starts; the elder Linwood reclined in a chair and fanned himself; and Canby, who felt that he alone understood the situation, took heart from the rather impersonal quality of the girl’s gaze as she let her eyes rest on young Linwood. Still, uneasiness seemed to hover in the air. A keen observer, studying the group, would have noted that each of its members had something on his mind; a subtle lack of repose, a kind of intangible restlessness, made itself felt; there was an undercurrent of uneasy suspense, and you could almost hear the sighs of relief that greeted the call to luncheon.
Canby meant to have a talk with Nella at the earliest opportunity, but they had no sooner gotten up from the table after lunch than he found himself circumvented by young Linwood, who calmly tucked the girl’s arm through his and led her away.
Canby watched them go with a sinking heart. He knew that the opposition of the uncle had put the finishing touch to the young man’s resolution; he would be capable now of carrying the girl off by main force. Youth could do such a thing while staid middle age looked on and sighed. Middle age did in fact sigh, seeing the two young people disappear around a bend in the garden path; and then turned at hearing the elder Linwood’s voice:
“How about a game of billiards?”
But Canby was in no mood for games of any sort, and said so briefly. He wanted to listen to no chatter, either; he only wanted to be alone. With Linwood in one of his genial moods there was only one way to make sure of that, and Canby adopted it. Announcing his intention of paying a visit to his sister at Roselawn, he went out and jumped into the roadster, turned for the gate and was gone.
He did in fact pass the entrance to Roselawn twice that afternoon, but did not enter. He tore along at forty miles an hour, paying no attention to direction or distance, wanting only to move and get away from himself. He was beginning to see that he had indeed acted a fool. Seldom in this sorry life are we given a strong desire and the means of satisfying it at the same time; when the happy combination comes only a madman refuses to take advantage of it. So he had done, Canby reflected. Nella had actually agreed, in so many words, to marry him, and he had refused! Then youth had come—youth, with its fiery eyes and burning words and grace of limb and movement; its awkward phrases and crude inflections that were somehow powerful; its triteness and endless repetition that somehow seemed ever new; youth with all its mastery.
These reflections and a thousand others tossed about in Canby’s brain as he drove madly about the countryside all that September afternoon. The thing was eminently just; he wouldn’t deny that. The girl of nineteen and boy of twenty-four belonged in each other’s arms.
And what a prize she was! Sweetness and intelligence, charm of good mind and body, innocence and goodness, all found their home in her. A prize for any lucky man!
Well, he would soon know. The suspense and indecision would end. This was her tomorrow; perhaps her “yes” was waiting for him now. It was that thought that turned the wheel about and headed him for home.
The dinner hour at Greenhedge was half-past six, and it was just ten minutes before that time when Canby turned in at the driveway. The lawn and piazza were deserted; there was no one in the garden. He left the car in the rear and entered the house. Still no one. Suddenly he heard Mrs. Wheeler addressing him:
“Oh, are you back, sir? Will you eat alone, sir?”
Looking into the dining-room, Canby saw with surprise that no preparations had been made for dinner.
“Why, where is everybody?” he demanded.
“I don’t know, sir. Miss Nella said she wouldn’t be back for dinner. She said to tell you she left a note for you in your room.”
Canby turned slowly toward the stairs with a heavy heart. He had felt this coming all afternoon. It was over. Then the spark of hope, still faintly alive, quickened within him, and he bounded up the stairs three at a time. He ran down the upper hall and dashed into his room. The note was there on his desk, addressed in her quaint round hand: “Mr. Fred Canby.” He tore it open.
I can’t help it; really I can’t. I’m so sorry. I’m going to marry Mr. Linwood this evening. We aren’t coming back. Please, please forgive me; you’ve been so kind to me— I’ll write to you later, and maybe you’ll think better of me.
NELLA.
Canby read it over three times, then slowly folded the sheet and placed it in his pocket. Then suddenly he took it out again and tore it into a dozen pieces; after which he walked to the window overlooking the garden and stood there crumpling the bits of paper in his hand. He stood very straight and motionless and his face was white and set like stone.
So youth had conquered! He smiled bitterly. No doubt it was all quite logical and proper and to be expected. Tom had made good; he was after all a worthy representative of the age of adventure. He had picked her up and ran off with her—with Nella, the sweetest and best and dearest girl in the world. She had heard the call of youth and had responded to it, and who was he to begrudge her happiness? An old worthless fossil!
Long after the dinner-bell rang he stood there. Finally he turned drearily and went downstairs, and, after informing Mrs. Wheeler curtly that he wanted no dinner, he went out into the fragrant peace of the garden.
Dusk was approaching; a cool breeze had sprung up and was rustling the leaves of the plants and shrubs. He strolled aimlessly along the paths, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.
But all at once his eyes were opened. Turning a bend in the path, there was a bench before him, and on the bench was seated a young man. Canby stopped short and stared at this young man with an expression of amazed stupidity, as if he had been a ghost. It was Tom Linwood.
“Hello!” said the youth, looking up dismally.
Canby continued to stare like an imbecile. “But what— You—” he stammered at last, and stopped.
Then:
“Where’s Nella?” he demanded.
“With her husband, I suppose,” was the reply.
“With her hus—! Are you crazy?”
The youth was unmoved in his stony gloom.
“I said, with her husband. That’s the proper place for a loving young wife, isn’t it?”
Then he burst forth suddenly:
“I don’t want to talk about her, I tell you! She’s a—she’s a— Oh damn it all, I don’t know what she is! Yes, I do!” He became dismally ironic: “She’s my aunt—my aunt Nella! She’s been throwing eyes at that old duffer all along and I didn’t know it; and he swallowed her bait. Oh, she’s a slick one! They got in the car and Uncle Garry tells me to be a good boy and hands me a note to give to you, and off they go! … I forgot; I didn’t give you the note, did I? Here it is.”
Canby took it and tore it open. There were only a few lines.
Canby:
She belonged to you, but you wouldn’t take her; so the prize is mine. We are to be married this afternoon. That young fool Tom was making it too hot for me.
LINWOOD.
Canby dropped weakly on the bench and sat there in an idiotic daze. Coming out of it hours later, he uttered the words:
“Old fool!”
Goodness only knows whom he was talking about.
Appendix: The Early Fiction of Rex Stout
“Excess Baggage” Short Stories, October 1912 1
“The Infernal Feminine” Short Stories, November 1912 2
“The Paisley”Young’s Magazine, November 1912 3
“Billy Du Mont, Reporter” Young’s Magazine, December 1912 4
“A Professional Recall” The Black Cat, December 1912 5
“Barnacles” Young’s Magazine, January 1913 6
“Pamfret and Peace” The Black Cat, January 1913 7
“A Companion of Fortune” Short Stories, April 1913 8
“A White Precipitate” Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, June 1913 9
“The Pickled Picnic” The Black Cat, June 1913 10
“The Mother of Invention” The Black Cat, August 1913 11
Her Forbidden KnightThe All-Story, August 1913 to December 1913 12
“Méthode Américaine” The Smart Set, November 1913 13
“A Tyrant Abdicates” Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, January 1914 14
“The Pay-Yeoman” The All-Story, January 1914 15
Under the AndesThe All-Story, February 1914 16
“Secrets” All-Story Weekly, March 7, 1914 17
“Rose Orchid” All-Story Weekly, March 28, 1914 18
“An Agacella Or” Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, April 1914 19
“The Inevitable Third” All-Story Weekly, April 25, 1914 20
A Prize for PrincesAll-Story [Cavalier] Weekly, May 2 to May 30, 1914 21
“Out of the Line” All-Story Cavalier Weekly, June 13, 1914 22
“The Lie” All-Story Cavalier Weekly, July 4, 1914 23
“Target Practise”All-Story Cavalier Weekly, December 26, 1914 24
“If He Be Married” All-Star Cavalier Weekly, January 16, 1915 25
“Baba” All-Star Cavalier Weekly, January 30, 1915 26
“Warner & Wife” All-Story Cavalier Weekly, February 27, 1915 27
“A Little Love Affair” Smith’s Magazine, July 1915 28
“Art for Art’s Sake” Smith’s Magazine, August 1915 29
“Another Little Love Affair” Smith’s Magazine, September 1915 30
“Jonathan Stannard’s All-Story Weekly, September 11, Secret Vice” 1915 31
“Sanétomo” All-Story Weekly, September 25, 1915 32
“The Strong Man” Young’s Magazine, November 1915 33
“Justice Ends at Home” All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1915 34
“Two Kisses” Breezy Stories, January 1916 35
The Great LegendAll-Story Weekly, January 1, 1916 36
“Ask the Egyptians” Golfers Magazine, March 1916 37
“This Is My Wife”Snappy Stories, March [issue 2] 1916 38
“Second Edition”Young’s Magazine, April 1916 39
“It’s Science That Counts” All-Story Weekly, April 1, 1916 40
“The Rope Dance” All-Story Weekly, June 24, 1916 41
The Last DriveGolfers Magazine, July to December 1916 42
“It Happened Last Night” The Black Cat, January 1917 43
“An Officer and a Lady” All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1917 44
“Heels of Fate” All-Story Weekly, November 17, 1917 45
“Old Fools and Young” Young’s Magazine, April 1918 46
1 Reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
2 Reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
3 Reprinted in this volume
4 Reprinted in this volume
5 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
6 Reprinted in this volume
7 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
8 Reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
9 Reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
10 Reprinted in this volume
11 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
12 Reprinted in Her Forbidden Knight (Carroll & Graf 1997); reprinted in The Rex Stout Reader (Carroll & Graf 2007)
13 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
14 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
15 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
16 Reprinted in Under the Andes (Mysterious Press 1985; Carroll & Graf 2000)
17 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
18 Published under the pseudonym “Evans Day.” Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
19 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
20 Published under the pseudonym “Evans Day.” Reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
21 Reprinted in A Prize for Princes (Carroll & Graf 2000); reprinted in The Rex Stout Reader (Carroll & Graf 2007)
22 Reprinted in Her Forbidden Knight (Carroll & Graf 1997); reprinted in The Rex Stout Reader (Carroll & Graf 2007)
23 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
24 Reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
25 Reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
26 Reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
27 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
28 Reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
29 Reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
30 Reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
31 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
32 Reprinted in Targe
t Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
33 Reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
34 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
35 Reprinted in this volume
36 Reprinted in The Rex Stout Reader (Carroll & Graf 2007)
37 Reprinted in this volume
38 Reprinted in this volume
39 Reprinted in this volume
40 Reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
41 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
42 Reprinted in this volume
43 Reprinted in this volume
44 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998); reprinted in An Officer and a Lady and Other Stories (Carroll & Graf 2000)
45 Reprinted in Justice Ends at Home and Other Stories (Viking Press 1977); reprinted in Target Practice (Carroll & Graf 1998)
46 Reprinted in this volume
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
These are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This compilation, including the introduction and commentary, copyright © 2015 by Ira Brad Matetsky
The stories in this book first appeared between 1912 and 1918 and are reprinted with the approval of the Estate of Rex Stout. For original publication information, see Appendix.
The illustrations accompanying The Last Drive first appeared in Golfers Magazine, July to December 1916.
Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox
978-1-4532-9356-0
