Time at the Top

by Edward Ormondroyd

  But Mr. Sweeney still wouldn’t take his cue. “It may interest you to know, my dear,” he said in his smoothest voice, “that my connection with the Walkers is on a familiar, not to say intimate, footing.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said warily. What was he driving at?

  “Therefore,” he purred, “I find myself somewhat at a loss to explain why I never saw you in that household.”

  She fought down a surge of panic. “I-I’m sure you wouldn’t have noticed me, sir,” she gulped. “I was — in the — in the kitchen. All the time. Maggie was training me out there.” A faint hope occurred to her, and she clutched at it. “Oh!” she exclaimed, trying to make it sound like a cry of pleased recognition. “Why, you must be Mr. Sweeney that they all speak so well of!”

  It worked. Mr. Sweeney displayed his smile and gave a little flourish with his cigar. Then his eyes narrowed, and in a silky bantering tone he said:

  “So — satisfied with your work, were they?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. They —”

  “And yet you were discharged from service?”

  “Yes, sir. You see —”

  “Without your wages, if I understand correctly.”

  “Yes, sir. Mrs. Walk —”

  “Perhaps,” Mr. Sweeney said, still smiling, but with a cruel little quirk at the corners of his mouth, “perhaps there was a little matter of spoons disappearing, or something like that, eh?”

  “Oh, no, sir!”

  “Would you still accept a ride from me if I told you that we should go directly to a police station?”

  “Certainly, sir. I have nothing to —”

  “Oh, well,” he said, tiring of his game and turning away. “It’s no concern of mine what you’ve been up to. I have no doubt Mrs. Walker was fully justified, however. Good day.”

  And here, suddenly, was the chance she’d been waiting for.

  “Oh, sir, I wouldn’t say a word against Mrs. Walker. I’m sure she would have paid my wages. If she’d been able to.”

  Mr. Sweeney’s cigar was arrested halfway to his mouth. “I do not quite apprehend your meaning, my dear,” he said carefully.

  “Oh,” she gasped, putting her hand to her face. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it, I’m sure.”

  “Did I understand you to mean can’t? Or won’t?”

  “Can’t, sir. Oh, but I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sure they don’t want their troubles talked about.”

  “See here, my girl, I think you had better explain yourself.”

  Susan retreated a step, averting her eyes so that he wouldn’t see the triumph that was shining in them. It was just like playing the old childhood game of I Have A Secret I Won’t Tell. She could tell by the sudden wary tone in his voice that he was hooked.

  He was also impatient. Seizing her by the arm, he said, “Now, just what do you mean, trouble?”

  “Money trouble, sir,” she stammered.

  His grip tightened. “All right, out with it. I’ve got to know — as a friend of the family.”

  She almost reeled under a burst of inspiration. “Well, perhaps if you were to make it worth my while, sir,” she whined.

  For a moment it looked as if she had gone too far. Then Mr. Sweeney smiled — a genuine, appreciative smile. “Aha! Artful little sharper, aren’t you? I think we understand each other, my dear.” He explored his pocket again, pulled out a half dollar, and held it up just beyond reach. “Now — short and sweet!”

  “Well, sir,” she said in a low voice, keeping her eyes on the coin, “a few days ago Mrs. Walker got a letter. I heard her and Miss Victoria talking about it. Really by accident, sir, I’m not an eavesdropper.”

  “Never mind that.”

  “They were crying as if their hearts would break, sir, and Mrs. Walker’s been shut up in her room for two days and won’t eat anything, and she’s crying something awful. So I asked Maggie what it was, and she had hysterics —”

  “I said never mind that. Out with it!”

  “It was a confidence man,” she whispered. “He had an invention or a—a gold mine or something, and he talked Mrs. Walker into putting her money in it. And now they’ve found out he’s run away to the — to the Continent.”

  Mr. Sweeney’s voice was thick. “What was the take?” he demanded.

  “Beg pardon, sir?”

  “The take!” he snarled, shaking her. “What was in it? How much did he get away with?”

  “Everything!” she whispered, looking him full in the face for an instant. Then she turned on the tears. “Oh, sir, they only owe me for a month, and they can’t even pay that!”

  Mr. Sweeney’s face swelled and darkened. The half dollar dropped from his hand. He whipped his derby off, smashed it with his fist, and ground out a noise, half hiss and half strangled shout, between his clenched teeth.

  “Oh, sir!” she cried. “Do me one more kindness, please. Take me away from here —”

  “Now you cut along!” he grated. “I’ve heard all I want. Get out.” He hurled his cigar to the ground and stamped on it.

  “Save me, save me!” she wept, flinging herself against him. “Oh, I’m so scared! I must get away, please help me!”

  “Here, what’s the hurry? What are you hiding from me?”

  “Oh, I’m so scared! Mrs. Walker — oh, it’s too horrible!”

  “What? What? She kill herself?”

  “No, sir, but she’s so sick.”

  “Huh! Don’t wonder. Sick myself.”

  “No, really sick! Take me away, I don’t want to die!”

  “Wait a minute!” said Mr. Sweeney hoarsely. “What’s she got?”

  “The — the doctor says — if she’s lucky enough to live — she’ll be scarred — for I — I — life!”

  “Great Scott!” Mr. Sweeney choked, hastily backing away. “Smallpox!”

  “Take me away!” Susan sobbed, clinging to him. “I was just talking to Miss Victoria, and she — she — she said she felt all over strange herself!”

  “Get away from me!” Mr. Sweeney shouted. He pushed her violently, lost his balance, and sat down. “Get away! Get away! Touching me! Breathing on me! You little—” His fingers closed around a fragment of brick in the grass. He scrambled to his feet and raised his weapon. “Get away from me!” he panted.

  They both turned and fled at the same instant — Mr. Sweeney toward the house, Susan toward the hedge. She stumbled, for she had actually succeeded in frightening herself, and was still wildly weeping; but in her mind sang the triumphant thought, ‘Oh, if only Elsie Mautner could have seen that! She’d never dare walk on a stage again!’

  9. Mrs. Walker Confesses

  The violence of Mr. Sweeney’s reaction had, in fact, frightened all of them; even Susan had not expected to be that successful. A fit of hysterical giggling overcame them as they made their way back to the house, and continued for some time after they had regained Victoria’s room.

  “My!” Victoria said when they had calmed down somewhat. “That was simply inspired.”

  “Well, I’ve had some experience in dramatics,” Susan said modestly. “You were right, Vicky, you were absolutely right about him. I told him that a confidence man had run away with all your Mama’s money, and you should have seen his face!”

  “Was that when he smashed his hat?”

  “Yes! Oh, he was so mad I thought he’d have ap — ap — what d’you-call-it.”

  “Apoppalepsy,” said Robert.

  “Oh, the brute!” Victoria said, shaking her fist. “I wish he had. Foiled in his villainous plans! I wish you were big enough to thrash him, Bobbie. What are you looking so solemn about?”

  “Well, the thing is,” Robert said, “we don’t know whether it’s really worked.”

  “Of course it’s worked! What are you talking about? Didn’t you see him run?”

  “Certainly I saw him run, but that’s now. How about later when he starts to think it over? What if he begins to check up? He could ask at the bank about Mama’s mone
y, and then he’d find out it was all a big fib.”

  “Stratagem,” Victoria insisted.

  “All right, stratagem. But he’ll call it lying, and then we’ll be in trouble.”

  “No you won’t,” Susan said. “I did it, not you. He didn’t even see you.”

  “No, but he’ll probably suspect we were accomplices if he finds out it wasn’t true.”

  “Well, I don’t care,” Victoria said. “We’ve unmasked him now and we know he’s a villain. That’s all that matters. He can even come back if he wants to — once Mama is warned it won’t do him a bit of good.”

  “All right, but how are we going to warn Mama?”

  “Oh, don’t be so slow!” she cried in exasperation. “We’ll tell her that he’s just after her money.”

  “You’re the one that’s being slow, Vic. The first thing Mama will ask is, how do we know.”

  “Oh my goodness!” Victoria said in a small voice. “That’s right …”

  “The thing is, we really did lie to him. I don’t care what you call it, Vic, we did. And if Mama finds out — well, you know what she’ll think about that. It won’t make any difference to her why we did it.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Susan said. “Let’s not get panicky. If it works the whole question will never even come up.”

  “If …” Victoria said gloomily.

  They stared at each other in silence.

  “What’s that?” Victoria suddenly whispered.

  “Horse!” Robert said.

  They rushed to the window, but it was only Mr. Branscomb driving away.

  “Maybe,” Susan said hopefully, “maybe Mr. Sweeney left while we were coming up the back stairs. We couldn’t have heard him from there, could we?”

  “Maybe he hasn’t left at all,” Robert said.

  “Let’s look out Mama’s window and see,” Victoria suggested.

  “That won’t do any good. You can’t see Hollister’s stable from there.”

  “Let’s look anyway — I can’t stand it any more. Maybe we can see something —”

  “Ssh! Someone’s coming!” Susan whispered.

  There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Walker’s voice said, “Bobbie? Vicky?”

  “Under the bed!” Robert mouthed silently. Susan flung herself to the floor and wriggled out of sight.

  “Children, children!” said Mrs. Walker, opening the door. “Such a thumping and bumping! You haven’t been quarreling, I hope?”

  “Oh, no, Mama!” Victoria said in a strained voice. “We were just …”

  “Just talking,” Robert croaked.

  “Well! I hope the time will soon come when you won’t find it necessary to stamp your feet while you talk. What is the matter, anyway? You both look as if I’d caught you with your hands in the cookie jar.”

  “You — you — you just surprised us, Mama,” Robert said faintly. “Here, won’t you have a chair?”

  “Thank you, Bobbie. They’ve been teaching you well at school, I see.” The chair creaked. “I think you had better sit down, too. You too, Vicky. We have something to discuss.”

  There was a thick silence.

  “Well, children,” Mrs. Walker said at last. “I think it’s time we had a very serious talk about Mr. Sweeney.”

  She could not have startled them more if she had fired a gun. Even Susan jumped a little under the fourposter, and felt her face go hot.

  “Oh, come, children, there’s no need to blush! I think it’s no secret, is it, that Mr. Sweeney has been — well, interested in us for quite a while?”

  Silence from Robert and Victoria. Perhaps they were shaking their heads.

  “In fact,” Mrs. Walker went on, “it’s no secret that he’s proposed to me on numerous occasions. Until now I’ve thought it best to refuse him. That’s no secret, either. But …”

  “But wh — wh — what, Mama?” Victoria asked.

  “Well … he’s made a very handsome offer, my dears!”

  “You mean you’ve seen him already?” Victoria blurted out.

  “What do you mean, ‘already?’ Is he here?”

  “He’s at the Hollister’s,” Robert said miserably. “I think.”

  “Oh. Well, he said he’d be here soon, without mentioning exactly when. No, I haven’t seen him since last time; but I had a letter from him yesterday.”

  “Oh,” said Victoria. “Well, what is his handsome offer?” Susan could imagine how Victoria’s mouth twisted on the word “handsome.”

  “Why, he speaks of a military school for you, Bobbie! Isn’t that splendid? Just what you’ve been wanting. And a very well-known finishing school for you, dear. I’m very pleased to find that he has your welfare so much at heart.”

  “What about your welfare?” Victoria bristled.

  “Oh, I don’t count,” Mrs. Walker laughed. “I’m just an old woman, Vicky. I’ve had my life — yours is still ahead of you, and it’s yours that I’m thinking of.”

  “You’re not an old woman, and you do count. Mr. Sweeney — goodness!” Victoria suddenly gasped, “you’re not in love with him, are you, Mama?”

  “Well,” said Mrs. Walker evasively, “love seems very important when you’re young. But you’ll find as you grow older that duty comes first.”

  “Duty to him?”

  “No, my dear, duty to you and Bobbie. It’s simply not right for two growing children to be without a Papa. I’ve been very concerned about it for some time, and now that — now that things have reached a certain stage … Well, what I’m trying to say is that I must seriously begin to consider your future.”

  “Oh, Mama!” Victoria wailed. “I don’t blame you for worrying about us, but you could do so much better than Mr. Sweeney! If only you’d go to town a little more often.”

  “Victoria, are you proposing that I go out and throw myself at men’s heads?”

  “Of course not, Mama! If you’d just visit friends and — well, there’d be dinners and parties — and you’d — you couldn’t help being introduced to—”

  “I’m afraid I’ve lost all my heart for society since your Papa died … And, you see, Mr. Sweeney has been kind enough to come to me, instead of the other way around … I know you’re not very favorably impressed by him, Vicky —”

  “I think he’s horrid!” Victoria whispered.

  “Oh … What do you think, Bobbie?”

  Robert made some inarticulate, but negative, noises.

  Mrs. Walker sighed. “I suppose he is a little—too polished, perhaps …” Suddenly her voice broke. “Oh, children, I’m so tired, so tired! I can’t think any more, I don’t know what to —” Then she regained control of herself, and continued, almost harshly, with: “Well, no matter. There’s nothing more to discuss. My own feelings do not concern anyone but myself, and my duty toward you two is clear. Your duty toward me, as children toward their mother, is to yield to my decision. I shall — I shall accept Mr. Sweeney’s offer.”

  “Mama—”

  “Please, Vicky! There is nothing more to discuss.”

  Victoria’s voice trembled with a desperate resolve. “I just wanted to ask a question, Mama. How much money does Mr. Sweeney have?”

  “Victoria! I’m shocked at you! That’s the sort of thing a lady never asks a gentleman!”

  “I’m sorry, Mama. But that’s the sort of thing a gentleman would make clear, isn’t it? And he hasn’t said anything about it, has he?”

  “Mr. Sweeney is always very well turned out, as you know. And I’m sure he wouldn’t be speaking of expensive schools for you two if he weren’t prepared —”

  “—prepared to spend your money,” Victoria broke in. “That’s all he’s after, Mama. He doesn’t care a fig for us. He’s a fortune-hunter and a scoundrel, and I’d say the same to his face!”

  “Victoria Albertine, that is a very serious accusation. You had better take it back and apologize for it, or explain yourself.”

  ‘Oh oh!’ Susan thought, clenching her hands until
they ached. ‘Now it comes out …’ She knew that Victoria would not back down, but would confess what they had done rather than see her mother make the fatal mistake; and she realized that at that point she herself would be honor-bound to come out from under the bed and take the blame. The ensuing complications would not bear thinking about.

  “Well, it’s true, Mama,” Victoria began bravely. “You see, about an hour ago we—”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in! Yes, Maggie?”

  “Note for you, Mum,” said a hoarse voice.

  “Thank you, Maggie. Does it require an answer?”

  “No’m. Mrs. Hollister brought it. Queerest thing! Herself’s not the kind to be passing notes. She always spoke right out before.”

  “Thank you, Maggie.”

  The door closed. There was an unbearable silence.

  “Well,” Mrs. Walker said at last.

  “What is it, Mama?” Robert croaked.

  Mrs. Walker’s voice was flat. “It seems, my dears, that we have been worrying ourselves to no purpose. Mr. Sweeney has changed his mind.”

  “Mama, what does he say?”

  “He says that he has received certain information that makes it necessary for him to withdraw his offer.”

  So — their scheme had worked. But Susan felt no triumph in the thought. Confession was inevitable now; and that being the case, she might as well come forth at once and tell Mrs. Walker that she was the one who had supplied Mr. Sweeney with his “certain information.” She was just about to roll out from under the four-poster when Mrs. Walker stopped her dead by saying quietly:

  “I owe you an apology, Vicky. It seems you were right.”

  “I — I — I —” Victoria stammered, evidently as astonished as Susan was by this unexpected turn.

  “Apparently he is a fortune-hunter,” Mrs. Walker went on. “I don’t know how he got his certain information so quickly; but then they do say that bad news travels fast …”

  “What bad news?” Robert whispered. “Why are you crying, Mama?”

  “I hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you, children. I was praying that Mr. Branscomb could set things right — it’s been coming a long time, I’m afraid — we’ve done everything we could — dear Mr. Branscomb has been moving heaven and earth to help us — oh!” she sobbed, “Mr. Sweeney was my last hope for your future! We’re ruined, children — we haven’t a penny left in the world!”