CHAPTER II.
MISS SHEETS IS SHE.
She was radiantly, 'wilderingly beautiful.
She was tall and lissom, leopard-jointed and swift.
She was one of those dulcet-toned, tawny peroxides, an houri, for whomthe synonym is "havoc."
Chicago spoke in her every tone and gesture. Her movements weremeteoric. Her eyes were X-rays. Her smile was sheet-lightning. She wasalert, trim and tailor-made. Her very presence breathed the richnessand aroma of her stock-yards training. The Spirit of Chicago, "IWILL," pulsed through her veins. "Push and Pull" was her motto. "Getthere" was her creed.
Whoever is familiar with the fatal fascinations of a ChicagoTypewriter can gauge the gait of the Kankakee pulse when Miss ImogeneSilesia Sheets, late of the great packing house of Harmor & Co., wasprecipitated into the midst of that suburban society.
The advent of this loveliest of her Type was brought about through thecourteous solicitations and higher salary offered by Slaughter &Steers, a rival firm of the great hog magnate of Chicago.
From the very multiplicity of her attractions and accomplishments,Miss Sheets was indescribable.
Life in Chicago is of itself an education, and our heroine was rich inthe accumulation of her experiences. Her years of service in thegreatest pork mart of the world had developed a keen discrimination asto the relative coincidences and differences among hogs and men. Shewas never deceived as to either. She valued each after his kind, inhis own place and for his own proper purposes, as becomes abroadminded woman.
Miss Sheets' accomplishments ranged from office to drawing room. Shepounded the typewriter and the piano with equal facility, and it wassaid that she rendered her stenographic notes in rag-time rhythm.
Within a week of her arrival, Mrs. Astor's boarding house became asocial center, and Mrs. Astor appreciated a guest who at the same timebecame a social feature and paid in advance.
Before a month had elapsed this artless girl had completely won herhostess' heart, and as they nibbled nuts and nougats at Imogene'sexpense, that unsuspecting lady had disclosed to Miss Sheets about allshe knew of the "Eligible List" of Kankakee.
From this time forward, as if by intuition, the lovely Typewriterseemed to know that she preferred Bill Vanderhook's attentions.
As for Bill, he had been victimized from the start. Three times a dayhe walked an extra mile to pass her boarding house or place ofbusiness. He trod the air. He jollied every customer, and set up thesoda water recklessly. He beamed on the very bottles behind thecounter. He racked his brain and rifled his Father's show-cases to doher homage.
"Be mine, Sweet Thing," he implored, the third Sunday after theirintroduction. This he said as they sat in his new, red automobile,four miles from town, while they waited for a gasoline man.
But the maiden demurred. "Oh, Mr. You've got sand in your gear box,"she said shyly; then she smiled alluringly and purred softly. The brimof her cartwheel hat grated along his Derby, and they drew as close asfashion permitted.
Still her rosy lips withheld the answer. "Not," she murmured to herinmost self, "until I know whether there's an electric cart and a tripto Europe coming along with the big diamond and the sealskins."
But Bill, stupid after the manner of men, was sorely tried by herevasiveness. He was not a Mind Reader. He just made plain Love,without the modern conveniences.
Then came the gasoline man, and it was dark before they started. Asboth were very hungry, nothing more was said.
Bill Vanderhook looked like a blue print, when he handed her out toMrs. Astor.
He felt he had lost his opportunity. He feared he had lost the girl.
It was at this critical stage of Cupid's campaign that our storyopens. It was during this momentous interlude that the over-anxiousBill had dragged the reluctant Alonzo, the unwilling Mystic, from hisprofessional seclusion and led him, unprepared, into temptation.
Unconfessed to himself, Bill had a considerable faith in Alonzo'soccult powers. He meant to induce the Guru to aid his suit with thetantalizing Typewriter.
Having finally decided to break his vow, Mr. Leffingwell went out ofthe drug store, sustained by the lowball and a shadowy hope that hewould not be found out. He realized his departure from the fifty-sevenPaths, but he did not dream that as yet he had come up to his KarmicDestiny. He did not suspect that he and Bill were strolling downAsylum Avenue, arm in arm, for the last time.
A little later Alonzo is seated with Bill in Mrs. Astor's parlor, onthe very davenport where Bill had first seen HER. Silently theyawaited the appearance of the maiden of whom Bill talked all day, whomhe visited every evening, and of whom he dreamed all night.
The face of the Mystic was set and stern. His body was erect andrigid. His gaze was abstracted, cold and indifferent.
To his innermost Inner he was steeled against Woman.
Presently there was a swish and a swirl of nearby silk andheatherbloom, a faint but intoxicating odor of patchouli, andthen--and then--a face, a bewildering flash of the rose and the lily,a sunburst of radiant loveliness.
The up-to-date maiden and the up-to-date Mystic stood face to face.
On that instant the tragic entanglement of Mysticism and Materialism,which had been recorded in the stars, now took on its initialexpression.
The effect upon the Occultist was instantaneous and overpowering. Onthe instant his face, form and expression lost their hauteur, rigidityand disdain. Rising, but unheeding the formal introduction by hisproud and awkward chum, Alonzo Leffingwell paled, trembled and swayed.For one unutterable moment he gazed upon that dazzling vision withrapt ecstasy, and then raising his delicate white hand and pointing atrandom in the air, he shrieked in a loud voice, "Aha!--Ah-ha! 'tisSHE! 'Tis SHE!--MISS SHEETS IS SHE!" and fell in convulsions at thefeet of the lovely stranger.
Then Miss Sheets shrieked like it was a mouse, and Bill growled hisastonishment.
"Well! wouldn't that jar you?" cried the girl.
But collecting himself, Bill rather enjoyed the impression his Imogenehad made.
"You've paralyzed him sure," he said, contempt for Alonzo andadmiration for the Lady struggling for expression.
"Don't you think it," she said gaily, giving her pompadour atwist--"but what are we going to do?"
"Why, I'll telephone for the auto and rush him around to the drugstore. No, not a doctor--I know how to fix him. A good stiffHi-lowball"--and Bill winked--"will start his vibrations again."
Then the lovers, momentarily distracted from themselves, resumed wherethey had left off, and so successfully did Mr. Vanderhook Jr. presshis claims that before the auto came smelling around the corner--andwhile the unconscious Alonzo lay cold and mute--Imogene had receivedthe huge solitaire she had admired so prettily the last time she andBill passed the Jeweler's together.
Late that night, when Bill slipped noiselessly out of Mrs. Astor'sparlor, a golden hair was curiously entangled in the coils of hiscameo shirt-stud.
And the Recluse, what of him?
What of him who had violated the First Degree?
After regaining his equilibrium he withdrew to his father's house and,locking himself in his apartments, he there remained for one month,during which time he tasted neither food nor drink.