CHAPTER VII CORDIE'S MAD FLIGHT
"Cordie, there's something I should tell you."
Cordie looked up from the book she was reading, stared at Lucile for amoment, then with a toss of her pretty head exclaimed: "If you should,why don't you?"
They were at the end of another day. Some time had passed since theMystery Lady had last appeared in the store. Work had increased; crowdsof buyers had grown denser, more insistent in their demands. Twoperpendicular lines had appeared between Lucile's eyes. Cordie, too, hadfelt the strain of it. Her nerves were tense. She had been upon Lucile'sbed for a half hour, trying to relax. It was no use.
"Why don't you tell me?" she demanded impatiently.
"I'm afraid it may frighten you."
"Frighten me?" the girl's eyes went wide with surprise.
"Yes, but I think I should tell you. It may put you on your guard."
Cordie sat bolt upright.
"Do you remember the time I found you--when you fainted in the ArtMuseum?" Lucile asked in a quiet voice.
"I couldn't forget that. Wasn't it terrible?"
"More terrible than you think, or at least I believe it might have been."
"Why?" Cordie stared.
"A few seconds after you fainted, a strange young man picked you up inhis arms. He said you were his sister. He started to carry you out andwould have, too, if I hadn't made the guard stop him."
"Oh!" breathed Cordie, wild eyed, incredulous. "So that was what theguard meant when he asked where my brother was? Oh, how--how sort ofromantic!"
"It may have been," said Lucile in a very sober tone. "He may have beenromantic, but he also may have been very bad. That's why I thought youought to know. He may be keeping a watch on you. Men who are fascinatedby a face often do. You ought not to go alone upon the streets. Youshould not have been alone that day. No girl from the country,unacquainted with the ways of the city, is safe alone upon its streetsand within its public buildings."
"Why, I'm not--" Cordie halted in the midst of the sentence and beganagain. "Did you think--" then drawing her lips tight as if to keep in asecret that was about to escape, she lapsed into silence.
When she broke the silence a moment later the look on her face was veryserious. "I do realize the danger," she said slowly. "Truly I do. I willbe careful, very, very careful. It was wonderful of you to save me fromthat--that man. How can I ever thank you enough?"
Hopping down from the bed, she wound her arm about Lucile and planted akiss upon her forehead.
Just at that instant a question entered Lucile's mind. "I wonder when herappreciation will reach down as deep as her pocketbook? That's a sordidthought. I ought not to think it," she told herself, "but I just can'thelp it."
Lucile was having to pay an increased rent on her room because of thegirl's occupying it with her. A pay day had come and gone, yet her youngcharge had shown no desire to bear her share of this burden.
"No! No! I mustn't let myself wonder that," Lucile corrected herselfstoutly. "She'll pay when she can. She's probably saving up for her rentwhich is in arrears somewhere else. I do wonder, though, what she wasabout to tell me when she said: 'I'm not--' and 'Did you think--' I trulywish she'd tell me about herself, but I can wait her time for revealing."
Half of the following day had not passed before Lucile repented havingtold Cordie of her volunteer brother. "He'll probably never be seen againby any of us," she told herself, "and now look at the poor girl. She'sall unnerved; grips her desk and stares in a frightened manner every timea man looks at her. And yet," she reflected, "if anything happened and Ihadn't told her I'd never forgiven myself. Surely life is full ofperplexing problems."
Ere that day was done something was destined to happen which would makethis particular problem many times more perplexing. Since she knewnothing of this, Lucile went serenely on selling books.
"Let me tell you something," said Rennie, the veteran book-seller, whohad apparently made an excuse for going to lunch with Lucile that day."You're letting this work get on your nerves. Look at those puckersbetween your eyes. It's no use. You mustn't let it. You'll go to piecesand it's not worth it. You've got your life to live. You--"
"But Rennie--"
Rennie held up a finger for silence. "You're young; haven't learned thegospel of repose. You, perhaps, think of repose as the curling of one'sself up in a soft-cushioned chair. That's not repose; it's stagnation.Did you ever see a tiny bird balancing himself on a twig over a rushingwaterfall and singing his little heart away? That's repose. You can havepoise and repose in the midst of the crowding throng. The bird, only halfconscious of the rushing water beneath him, sings the more sweetlybecause of it. We, too, may have our service sweetened by the very rushof things if we will.
"And it is service! You believe that, don't you?"
There was a new light in the veteran saleslady's eyes. Lucile, as shelooked at her frail body, thought to herself: "She's more spirit thanbody. She's given half herself away in service."
"Why yes," she replied slowly, "I suppose selling juvenile books is aservice in a way."
"You suppose!" Rennie gripped her arm until it hurt. "Don't you know itis? It may be made a great, a wonderful service. There are books andbooks. You have read many of them. You know them. You are young. You haveread. Some you have loved, some despised. Which do you sell? Which?"
"Why, the ones I love, of course."
"That's just it. Being endowed by nature with taste, good taste, andhaving had that taste improved by education, you are able to choose thebest.
"Books are like water. Some are like foam, the white caps of the sea;pure enough but effervescent. They pass in a moment and are lost forever.Others are like scum from a stagnant pool; they are poison. Then thereare those blessed others which are like the cool, pure, refreshing waterthat comes bubbling up from a mountain spring. Reading has an untold andlasting influence on a child. Do you believe that? When you have put oneof those better books into the hand of a boy or girl, you have conferreda lasting blessing upon someone. Do you believe that?"
"Ye--yes."
"Of course you do. Now, when you go back to your work this afternoon, doit with the consciousness that you are really being a benefactor to yourgeneration. Say to yourself: 'See all those people. Some of these are togo away from here this afternoon richer because I have been here to servethem, to advise them, to select for them the thing they really need.'Then watch the little annoyances, the petty troubles that tempt you tofret, 'Fold their tents like the Arabs and silently steal away.'
"Sales-people?" Rennie continued. "Why, we are far more than that. Wemay, if we will, take our place beside teachers, nurses, librarians, andall those whose names will be written high on the tablet of the futurewhere will appear all those who have truly benefited their race.
"Pardon me," she smiled again, "I didn't mean to preach, but really Ihope it may do you good."
"I--I'm sure it will." There was a mist in the girl's eyes as she saidthis. She had caught a vision of what real life work meant to this frailwoman. Once more she was tempted to give up her education in favor of acareer as a vendor of juvenile books.
At ten minutes before closing time Lucile, having promised to meet Cordieat the northeast door, hurried down the stairs to the first floor. Thenthings began to happen with lightning-like rapidity.
She had just started on her little journey across the store to thenortheast entrance when, all in a flash, she caught sight of a hand, sucha hand as she had seen but once and would never forget. The long, slim,muscular fingers and the ring of the dragon's head were there. She couldnot be mistaken. Somewhere in that jostling throng was the Mystery Lady.And--yes, Lucile was sure of it, there she was off there to the right.She could not mistake that face. With a bound she was after her.
"Not so fast there! Not so fast!" exclaimed a floor man. "There isn't anyfire. What made you think there was?"
Wedged in between a tall lady from the city
and a very broad-shouldered,bear-skin coated man from the country, Lucile could but heed thefloorman's admonition.
"She's making for the door," she whispered breathlessly. "I'll follow herout. Can't fail to catch her in the street. I'll get her before she hasgone a block. And then--"
Ah yes, and then--well, she'd decide what was to be done when the timecame. She'd trust to inspiration.
She did not catch up with her in the first block, nor the second orthird, either. The sidewalks were rivers of people; the cross streetsfilled with automobiles. Considering the fact that this was an obstaclerace of an exceedingly unusual type, the Mystery Lady made wonderfulprogress. As for Lucile, she was not to be outdone; indeed, she gained alittle here, and a little there. She dodged through an open space on thesidewalk and sprinted down a stretch of street where no autos were parkedor traveling.
"I--I'll get her in the next block," she panted. "Suppose there'll be ascene, but who cares? Here goes!"
A policeman's whistle, releasing the flood of autos on the cross street,had just blown. With a leap she sprang away before them. Grazed by thewheel of a gray sedan, drawing an angry hoot from a huge touring car, shecrossed the channel and was about to dash on when a hand seized herfirmly by the arm and gave her such a turn as fairly set her whirling.
"Here you!" exclaimed a gruff voice. "What you tryin' to do? Tryin' tocommit suicide? Autos has their right as well as them that walks. Give'em their turn, can't you?"
What was there to do? She could not tell this policeman of her cause forspeed. She could but stand there panting until he chose to release her.And as she stood there, with time to think, a startling question came toher mind: "Cordie! What of Cordie? I promised to meet her at thenortheast entrance! Closing time has now passed."
For a moment her head whirled, but as the grip on her arm relaxed shemurmured:
"Well, whatever is to happen has happened back there. I'll getmadamoiselle of mysteries yet!"
At that she crept slowly away until she was lost from sight of theofficer; then again raced on at breakneck speed.
* * * * * * * *
She was right. Something indeed had happened by the door of the northeastentrance. Cordie had been prompt in keeping her appointment; especiallyso since her nerves, disturbed by Lucile's revelation of the nightbefore, were on edge.
Surprised at not finding Lucile waiting for her, she had moved back intoa secluded alcove to watch the passing throng crowd through the doors.
Crowds always amused her. Some of the people were short and some tall;some young, some old; but all were interesting. Each had his story totell if only he could be induced to tell it. This is why the flow of ariver of people is so interesting.
Just when it was that her attention was drawn from the moving throng to asingle stationary individual, the girl could not tell. The instant shesaw the man she felt he had been watching her; felt too that she hadrecognized in him her volunteer brother of the Art Museum.
"Yes," she whispered as cold dread gripped her heart, "there is thehawk-like eye, the marble face. It is he. Oh! How shall I escape?"
Losing her power to reason, she dashed away from the door and into thecrowd that was now thronging toward the exits.
* * * * * * * *
Lucile found it rather difficult to again locate the Mystery Lady. Whenat last she succeeded it was to get a good square look at her, the firstshe had been afforded.
"How strangely she is dressed!" she murmured. "Like some countrywomancome to the city for shopping."
For a second she was inclined to doubt her judgment. It could not be thelady--yet, yes, there was her profile. There could be no mistake; so,again she dashed along after her.
Although she maintained a pace that appeared to be a leisurely one, theMystery Lady was hard enough to overtake. Turning to the right, shecrossed two streets to at last come out upon the Boulevard. Swinging tothe left, she joined the home-going throng.
Lucile, gaining moment by moment, was all but upon her when she turnedquickly to enter a broad, open door.
"Now I have you!" Lucile murmured.
She passed through the broad door just in time to see the mysterious onepush back a heavy curtain and disappear.
Lucile was about to follow, when a guard, touching her on the shoulder,demanded:
"Got a pass?"
"Why--why no," Lucile stood there nonplussed.
"This is Opera Hall. You can't go back of that curtain without a pass."
"But--but that lady gave you no pass."
The guard made no reply. He merely shrugged and smiled.
Dropping back a step or two, Lucile stood staring at the curtain. Herhead was whirling. What a strangely privileged woman this one must be.She entered and left a great department store at two hours beforemidnight, and no one said to her "No." She steps into a vestibule of agreat musical hall and passes behind the curtain without a pass. Whatwould she do next?
Suspended from one brass post to another, a heavy silk rope hung beforethe curtain. There were gaps in the curtain. Through one of these gaps,as Lucile stood staring at it, a hand was thrust. It was the hand of themysterious lady. And upon it, beside the dragon's head ring, was another.And this ring one more unusual and startling than the other. It was theiron ring of a bundle wrapper!
"Cordie's ring," Lucile whispered, "and, as I live, a diamond has beenset in it. A magnificent diamond, worth hundreds of dollars! How strange!How weird! A diamond set in iron!"
Even as she thought this, the hand disappeared. Instantly the heavypurple curtain began to sway. Expecting anything, the girl stood therebreathless. A needle flashed twice through the cloth of the curtain, thenin its place there appeared a tiny spot of crimson.
"The crimson thread!" Lucile whispered. "And I may not pass beyond thecurtain!"