The Haunted Bookshop

  Chapter XI

  Titania Tries Reading in Bed

  Aubrey, sitting at his window with the opera glasses, soon realizedthat he was blind weary. Even the exalted heroics of romance are notproof against fatigue, most potent enemy of all who do and dream. Hehad had a long day, coming after the skull-smiting of the night before;it was only the frosty air at the lifted sash that kept him at allawake. He had fallen into a half drowse when he heard footsteps comingdown the opposite side of the street.

  He had forced himself awake several times before, to watch the passageof some harmless strollers through the innocent blackness of theBrooklyn night, but this time it was what he sought. The man steppedstealthily, with a certain blend of wariness and assurance. He haltedunder the lamp by the bookshop door, and the glasses gave him enlargedto Aubrey's eye. It was Weintraub, the druggist.

  The front of the bookshop was now entirely dark save for a curiouslittle glimmer down below the pavement level. This puzzled Aubrey, buthe focussed his glasses on the door of the shop. He saw Weintraub pulla key out of his pocket, insert it very carefully in the lock, and openthe door stealthily. Leaving the door ajar behind him, the druggistslipped into the shop.

  "What devil's business is this?" thought Aubrey angrily. "The swinehas even got a key of his own. There's no doubt about it. He andMifflin are working together on this job."

  For a moment he was uncertain what to do. Should he run downstairs andacross the street? Then, as he hesitated, he saw a pale beam of lightover in the front left-hand corner of the shop. Through the glasses hecould see the yellow circle of a flashlight splotched upon dim shelvesof books. He saw Weintraub pull a volume out of the case, and thelight vanished. Another instant and the man reappeared in the doorway,closed the door behind him with a gesture of careful silence, and wasoff up the street quietly and swiftly. It was all over in a minute.Two yellow oblongs shone for a minute or two down in the areaunderneath the door. Through the glasses he now made out these patchesas the cellar windows. Then they disappeared also, and all was placidgloom. In the quivering light of the street lamps he could see thebookseller's sign gleaming whitely, with its lettering THIS SHOP ISHAUNTED.

  Aubrey sat back in his chair. "Well," he said to himself, "that guycertainly gave his shop the right name. This is by me. I do believeit's only some book-stealing game after all. I wonder if he andWeintraub go in for some first-edition faking, or some such stunt asthat? I'd give a lot to know what it's all about."

  He stayed by the window on the qui vive, but no sound broke thestillness of Gissing Street. In the distance he could hear theoccasional rumble of the Elevated trains rasping round the curve onWordsworth Avenue. He wondered whether he ought to go over and breakinto the shop to see if all was well. But, like every healthy youngman, he had a horror of appearing absurd. Little by little wearinessnumbed his apprehensions. Two o'clock clanged and echoed from distantsteeples. He threw off his clothes and crawled into bed.

  It was ten o'clock on Sunday morning when he awoke. A broad swath ofsunlight cut the room in half: the white muslin curtain at the windowrippled outward like a flag. Aubrey exclaimed when he saw his watch.He had a sudden feeling of having been false to his trust. What hadbeen happening across the way?

  He gazed out at the bookshop. Gissing Street was bright and demure inthe crisp quietness of the forenoon. Mifflin's house showed no sign oflife. It was as he had last seen it, save that broad green shades hadbeen drawn down inside the big front windows, making it impossible tolook through into the book-filled alcoves.

  Aubrey put on his overcoat in lieu of a dressing gown, and went insearch of a bathtub. He found the bathroom on his floor locked, withsounds of leisurely splashing within. "Damn Mrs. J. F. Smith," hesaid. He was about to descend to the storey below, bashfully consciousof bare feet and pyjamaed shins, but looking over the banisters he sawMrs. Schiller and the treasure-dog engaged in some householdmanoeuvres. The pug caught sight of his pyjama legs and began to yap.Aubrey retreated in the irritation of a man baulked of a cold tub. Heshaved and dressed rapidly.

  On his way downstairs he met Mrs. Schiller. He thought that her gazewas disapproving.

  "A gentleman called to see you last night, sir," she said. "He said hewas very sorry to miss you."

  "I was rather late in getting in," said Aubrey. "Did he leave hisname?"

  "No, he said he'd see you some other time. He woke the whole house upby falling downstairs," she added sourly.

  He left the lodging house swiftly, fearing to be seen from thebookshop. He was very eager to learn if everything was all right, buthe did not want the Mifflins to know he was lodging just opposite.Hastening diagonally across the street, he found that the MilwaukeeLunch, where he had eaten the night before, was open. He went in andhad breakfast, rejoicing in grapefruit, ham and eggs, coffee, anddoughnuts. He lit a pipe and sat by the window wondering what to donext. "It's damned perplexing," he said to himself. "I stand to loseeither way. If I don't do anything, something may happen to the girl;if I butt in too soon I'll get in dutch with her. I wish I knew whatWeintraub and that chef are up to."

  The lunchroom was practically empty, and in two chairs near him theproprietor and his assistant were sitting talking. Aubrey was suddenlystruck by what they said.

  "Say, this here, now, bookseller guy must have struck it rich."

  "Who, Mifflin?"

  "Yeh; did ya see that car in front of his place this morning?"

  "No."

  "Believe me, some boat."

  "Musta hired it, hey? Where'd he go at?"

  "I didn't see. I just saw the bus standing front the door."

  "Say, did you see that swell dame he's got clerking for him?"

  "I sure did. What's he doing, taking her joy-riding?"

  "Shouldn't wonder. I wouldn't blame him----"

  Aubrey gave no sign of having heard, but got up and left the lunchroom.Had the girl been kidnapped while he overslept? He burned with shameto think what a pitiful failure his knight-errantry had been. Hisfirst idea was to beard Weintraub and compel him to explain hisconnection with the bookshop. His next thought was to call up Mr.Chapman and warn him of what had been going on. Then he decided itwould be futile to do either of these before he really knew what hadhappened. He determined to get into the bookshop itself, and burstopen its sinister secret.

  He walked hurriedly round to the rear alley, and surveyed the domesticapartments of the shop. Two windows in the second storey stoodslightly open, but he could discern no signs of life. The back gatewas still unlocked, and he walked boldly into the yard.

  The little enclosure was serene in the pale winter sunlight. Along onefence ran a line of bushes and perennials, their roots wrapped instraw. The grass plot was lumpy, the sod withered to a tawny yellowand granulated with a sprinkle of frost. Below the kitchen door--whichstood at the head of a flight of steps--was a little grape arbour witha rustic bench where Roger used to smoke his pipe on summer evenings.At the back of this arbour was the cellar door. Aubrey tried it, andfound it locked.

  He was in no mood to stick at trifles. He was determined to unriddlethe mystery of the bookshop. At the right of the door was a lowwindow, level with the brick pavement. Through the dusty pane he couldsee it was fastened only by a hook on the inside. He thrust his heelthrough the pane. As the glass tinkled onto the cellar floor he hearda low growl. He unhooked the catch, lifted the frame of the brokenwindow, and looked in. There was Bock, with head quizzically tilted,uttering a rumbling guttural vibration that seemed to proceedautomatically from his interior.

  Aubrey was a little dashed, but he said cheerily "Hullo, Bock! Goodold man! Well, well, nice old fellow!" To his surprise, Bockrecognized him as a friend and wagged his tail slightly, but stillcontinued to growl.

  "I wish dogs weren't such sticklers for form," thought Aubrey. "Now ifI went in by the front door, Bock wouldn't say anything. It's justbecause he sees me coming in this way
that he's annoyed. Well, I'llhave to take a chance."

  He thrust his legs in through the window, carefully holding up the sashwith its jagged triangles of glass. It will never be known howseverely Bock was tempted by the extremities thus exposed to him, buthe was an old dog and his martial instincts had been undermined byyears of kindness. Moreover, he remembered Aubrey perfectly well, andthe smell of his trousers did not seem at all hostile. So he contentedhimself with a small grumbling of protest. He was an Irish terrier,but there was nothing Sinn Fein about him.

  Aubrey dropped to the floor, and patted the dog, thanking his goodfortune. He glanced about the cellar as though expecting to find somelurking horror. Nothing more appalling than several cases of beerbottles met his eyes. He started quietly to go up the cellar stairs,and Bock, evidently consumed with legitimate curiosity, kept at hisheels.

  "Look here," thought Aubrey. "I don't want the dog following me allthrough the house. If I touch anything he'll probably take a hunk outof my shin."

  He unlocked the door into the yard, and Bock obeying the Irishterrier's natural impulse to get into the open air, ran outside.Aubrey quickly closed the door again. Bock's face appeared at thebroken window, looking in with so quaint an expression of indignantsurprise that Aubrey almost laughed. "There, old man," he said, "it'sall right. I'm just going to look around a bit."

  He ascended the stairs on tiptoe and found himself in the kitchen. Allwas quiet. An alarm clock ticked with a stumbling, headlong hurry.Pots of geraniums stood on the window sill. The range, with its lidsoff and the fire carefully nourished, radiated a mild warmth. Througha dark little pantry he entered the dining room. Still no sign ofanything amiss. A pot of white heather stood on the table, and acorncob pipe lay on the sideboard. "This is the most innocent-lookingkidnapper's den I ever heard of," he thought. "Any moving-picturedirector would be ashamed not to provide a better stage-set."

  At that instant he heard footsteps overhead. Curiously soft, muffledfootsteps. Instantly he was on the alert. Now he would know the worst.

  A window upstairs was thrown open. "Bock, what are you doing in theyard?" floated a voice--a very clear, imperious voice that somehow madehim think of the thin ringing of a fine glass tumbler. It was Titania.

  He stood aghast. Then he heard a door open, and steps on the stair.Merciful heaven, the girl must not find him here. What WOULD shethink? He skipped back into the pantry, and shrank into a corner. Heheard the footfalls reach the bottom of the stairs. There was a doorinto the kitchen from the central hall: it was not necessary for herto pass through the pantry, he thought. He heard her enter the kitchen.

  In his anxiety he crouched down beneath the sink, and his foot, bentbeneath him, touched a large tin tray leaning against the wall. Itfell over with a terrible clang.

  "Bock!" said Titania sharply, "what are you doing?"

  Aubrey was wondering miserably whether he ought to counterfeit a bark,but it was too late to do anything. The pantry door opened, andTitania looked in.

  They gazed at each other for several seconds in mutual horror. Even inhis abasement, crouching under a shelf in the corner, Aubrey's strickensenses told him that he had never seen so fair a spectacle. Titaniawore a blue kimono and a curious fragile lacy bonnet which he did notunderstand. Her dark, gold-spangled hair came down in two thick braidsacross her shoulders. Her blue eyes were very much alive withamazement and alarm which rapidly changed into anger.

  "Mr. Gilbert!" she cried. For an instant he thought she was going tolaugh. Then a new expression came into her face. Without another wordshe turned and fled. He heard her run upstairs. A door banged, andwas locked. A window was hastily closed. Again all was silent.

  Stupefied with chagrin, he rose from his cramped position. What onearth was he to do? How could he explain? He stood by the pantry sinkin painful indecision. Should he slink out of the house? No, hecouldn't do that without attempting to explain. And he was stillconvinced that some strange peril hung about this place. He must putTitania on her guard, no matter how embarrassing it proved. If onlyshe hadn't been wearing a kimono--how much easier it would have been.

  He stepped out into the hall, and stood at the bottom of the stairs inthe throes of doubt. After waiting some time in silence he cleared thehuskiness from his throat and called out:

  "Miss Chapman!"

  There was no answer, but he heard light, rapid movements above.

  "Miss Chapman!" he called again.

  He heard the door opened, and clear words edged with frost camedownward. This time he thought of a thin tumbler with ice in it.

  "Mr. Gilbert!"

  "Yes?" he said miserably.

  "Will you please call me a taxi?"

  Something in the calm, mandatory tone nettled him. After all, he hadacted in pure good faith.

  "With pleasure," he said, "but not until I have told you something.It's very important. I beg your pardon most awfully for frighteningyou, but it's really very urgent."

  There was a brief silence. Then she said:

  "Brooklyn's a queer place. Wait a few minutes, please."

  Aubrey stood absently fingering the pattern on the wallpaper. Hesuddenly experienced a great craving for a pipe, but felt that theetiquette of the situation hardly permitted him to smoke.

  In a few moments Titania appeared at the head of the stairs in hercustomary garb. She sat down on the landing. Aubrey felt thateverything was as bad as it could possibly be. If he could have seenher face his embarrassment would at least have had some compensation.But the light from a stair window shone behind her, and her featureswere in shadow. She sat clasping her hands round her knees. The lightfell crosswise down the stairway, and he could see only a gleam ofbrightness upon her ankle. His mind unconsciously followed its beatenpaths. "What a corking pose for a silk stocking ad!" he thought."Wouldn't it make a stunning full-page layout. I must suggest it tothe Ankleshimmer people."

  "Well?" she said. Then she could not refrain from laughter, he lookedso hapless. She burst into an engaging trill. "Why don't you lightyour pipe?" she said. "You look as doleful as the Kaiser."

  "Miss Chapman," he said, "I'm afraid you think--I don't know what youmust think. But I broke in here this morning because I--well, I don'tthink this is a safe place for you to be."

  "So it seems. That's why I asked you to get me a taxi."

  "There's something queer going on round this shop. It's not right foryou to be here alone this way. I was afraid something had happened toyou. Of course, I didn't know you were--were----"

  Faint almond blossoms grew in her cheeks. "I was reading," she said."Mr. Mifflin talks so much about reading in bed, I thought I'd try it.They wanted me to go with them to-day but I wouldn't. You see, if I'mgoing to be a bookseller I've got to catch up with some of thisliterature that's been accumulating. After they left I--I--well, Iwanted to see if this reading in bed is what it's cracked up to be."

  "Where has Mifflin gone?" asked Aubrey. "What business has he got toleave you here all alone?"

  "I had Bock," said Titania. "Gracious, Brooklyn on Sunday morningdoesn't seem very perilous to me. If you must know, he and Mrs.Mifflin have gone over to spend the day with father. I was to havegone, too, but I wouldn't. What business is it of yours? You're asbad as Morris Finsbury in The Wrong Box. That's what I was readingwhen I heard the dog barking."

  Aubrey began to grow nettled. "You seem to think this was a mereimpertinence on my part," he said. "Let me tell you a thing or two."And he briefly described to her the course of his experiences sinceleaving the shop on Friday evening, but omitting the fact that he waslodging just across the street.

  "There's something mighty unpalatable going on," he said. "At first Ithought Mifflin was the goat. I thought it might be some frame-up forswiping valuable books from his shop. But when I saw Weintraub come inhere with his own latch-key, I got wise. He and Mifflin are incahoots, that's what. I don't know what they're pulling off,
but Idon't like the looks of it. You say Mifflin has gone out to see yourfather? I bet that's just camouflage, to stall you. I've got a greatmind to ring Mr. Chapman up and tell him he ought to get you out ofhere."

  "I won't hear a word said against Mr. Mifflin," said Titania angrily."He's one of my father's oldest friends. What would Mr. Mifflin say ifhe knew you had been breaking into his house and frightening me half todeath? I'm sorry you got that knock on the head, because it seemsthat's your weak spot. I'm quite able to take care of myself, thankyou. This isn't a movie."

  "Well, how do you explain the actions of this man Weintraub?" saidAubrey. "Do you like to have a man popping in and out of the shop atall hours of the night, stealing books?"

  "I don't have to explain it at all," said Titania. "I think it's up toyou to do the explaining. Weintraub is a harmless old thing and hekeeps delicious chocolates that cost only half as much as what you geton Fifth Avenue. Mr. Mifflin told me that he's a very good customer.Perhaps his business won't let him read in the daytime, and he comes inhere late at night to borrow books. He probably reads in bed."

  "I don't think anybody who talks German round back alleys at night is aharmless old thing," said Aubrey. "I tell you, your Haunted Bookshopis haunted by something worse than the ghost of Thomas Carlyle. Let meshow you something." He pulled the book cover out of his pocket, andpointed to the annotations in it.

  "That's Mifflin's handwriting," said Titania, pointing to the upper rowof figures. "He puts notes like that in all his favourite books. Theyrefer to pages where he has found interesting things."

  "Yes, and that's Weintraub's," said Aubrey, indicating the numbers inviolet ink. "If that isn't a proof of their complicity, I'd like toknow what is. If that Cromwell book is here, I'd like to have a lookat it."

  They went into the shop. Titania preceded him down the musty aisle,and it made Aubrey angry to see the obstinate assurance of her smallshoulders. He was horribly tempted to seize her and shake her. Itannoyed him to see her bright, unconscious girlhood in that dingy vaultof books. "She's as out of place here as--as a Packard ad in theLiberator" he said to himself.

  They stood in the History alcove. "Here it is," she said. "No, itisn't--that's the History of Frederick the Great."

  There was a two-inch gap in the shelf. Cromwell was gone.

  "Probably Mr. Mifflin has it somewhere around," said Titania. "It wasthere last night."

  "Probably nothing," said Aubrey. "I tell you, Weintraub came in andtook it. I saw him. Look here, if you really want to know what Ithink, I'll tell you. The War's not over by a long sight. Weintraub'sa German. Carlyle was pro-German--I remember that much from college.I believe your friend Mifflin is pro-German, too. I've heard some ofhis talk!"

  Titania faced him with cheeks aflame.

  "That'll do for you!" she cried. "Next thing I suppose you'll sayDaddy's pro-German, and me, too! I'd like to see you say that to Mr.Mifflin himself."

  "I will, don't worry," said Aubrey grimly. He knew now that he had puthimself hopelessly in the wrong in Titania's mind, but he refused toabate his own convictions. With sinking heart he saw her face relievedagainst the shelves of faded bindings. Her eyes shone with a deep andsultry blue, her chin quivered with anger.

  "Look here," she said furiously. "Either you or I must leave thisplace. If you intend to stay, please call me a taxi."

  Aubrey was as angry as she was.

  "I'm going," he said. "But you've got to play fair with me. I tellyou on my oath, these two men, Mifflin and Weintraub, are framingsomething up. I'm going to get the goods on them and show you. Butyou mustn't put them wise that I'm on their track. If you do, ofcourse, they'll call it off. I don't care what you think of me.You've got to promise me that."

  "I won't promise you ANYTHING," she said, "except never to speak to youagain. I never saw a man like you before--and I've seen a good many."

  "I won't leave here until you promise me not to warn them," heretorted. "What I told you, I said in confidence. They've alreadyfound out where I'm lodging. Do you think this is a joke? They'vetried to put me out of the way twice. If you breathe a word of this toMifflin he'll warn the other two."

  "You're afraid to have Mr. Mifflin know you broke into his shop," shetaunted.

  "You can think what you like."

  "I won't promise you anything!" she burst out. Then her face altered.The defiant little line of her mouth bent and her strength seemed torun out at each end of that pathetic curve. "Yes, I will," she said."I suppose that's fair. I couldn't tell Mr. Mifflin, anyway. I'd beashamed to tell him how you frightened me. I think you're hateful. Icame over here thinking I was going to have such a good time, andyou've spoilt it all!"

  For one terrible moment he thought she was going to cry. But heremembered having seen heroines cry in the movies, and knew it was onlydone when there was a table and chair handy.

  "Miss Chapman," he said, "I'm as sorry as a man can be. But I swear Idid what I did in all honesty. If I'm wrong in this, you need neverspeak to me again. If I'm wrong, you--you can tell your father to takehis advertising away from the Grey-Matter Company. I can't say morethan that."

  And, to do him justice, he couldn't. It was the supreme sacrifice.

  She let him out of the front door without another word.