The Green Mouse

  X

  THE LID OFF

  _An Alliance, Offensive, Defensive, and Back-Fensive_

  Smith, petrified, looked blankly at the paw.

  For a while he remained stupidly incapable of speech or movement, then,as though arousing from a bad dream:

  "What are you going to do, anyway?" he asked with an effort. "This car isbound to stop sometime, I suppose, and--and then what?"

  "I don't know what I'm going to do. Whatever I do will be the thing thatought to happen to me, to that cat and to that girl--that is the thingwhich is destined to happen. That's all I know about it."

  His friend passed an unsteady hand across his brow.

  "This whole proceeding is becoming a nightmare," he said unsteadily. "AmI awake? Is this Forty-second Street? Hold up some fingers, Brown, andlet me guess how many you hold up, and if I guess wrong I'm home in bedasleep and the whole thing is off."

  Beekman Brown patted his friend on the shoulder.

  "You take a cab, Smithy, and go somewhere. And if I don't come go onalone to the Carringtons'.... You don't mind going on and fixing thingsup with the Carringtons, do you?"

  "Brown, _do_ you believe that The Green Mouse Society has got hold ofyou? _Do_ you?"

  "I don't know and don't care.... Smith, I ask you plainly, did you everbefore see such a perfectly beautiful girl as that one is?"

  "Beekman, do you believe anything queer is going to result? You don'tsuppose _she_ has anything to do with this extraordinary freak of yours?"

  "Anything to do with it? How?"

  "I mean," he sank his voice to hoarser depths, "how do you know but thatthis girl, who pretends to pay no attention to us, _might_ be a--a--oneof those clever, professional mesmerists who force you to follow 'em, andget you into their power, and exhibit you, and make you eat raw potatoesand tallow candles and tacks before an audience."

  He peeped furtively at Brown, who did not appear uneasy.

  "All I'm afraid of," added Smith, sullenly, "is that you'll get yourselfinto vaudeville or the patrol wagon."

  He waited, but Brown made no reply.

  "Oh, very well," he said, coldly. "I'll take a cab back to the boat."

  No observation from Brown.

  "So, _good_-by, old fellow"--with some emotion.

  "Good-by," said Beekman Brown, absently.

  In fact, he did not even notice when his thoroughly offended partner leftthe car, so intent was he in following the subtly thrilling train ofthought which tantalized him, mocked him, led him nowhere, yet alwayslured him to fresh endeavor of memory. _Where_ had all this occurredbefore? When? What was going to happen next--happen inexorably, as it hadonce happened, or as it once should have happened, in some dim, bygoneage when he and that basket and that cat and this same hauntingly lovelygirl existed together on earth--or perhaps upon some planet, swimming farout beyond the ken of men with telescopes?

  He looked at the girl, strove to consider her impersonally, for heryouthful beauty began to disturb him. Then cold doubt crept in; somethingof the monstrosity of the proceeding chilled his enthusiasm for occultresearch. Should he speak to her?

  Certainly, it was a dreadful thing to do--an offense the enormity ofwhich was utterly inexcusable except under the stress of a purelyimpersonal and scientific necessity for investigating a mental phase ofhumanity which had always thrilled him with a curiosity most profound.

  He folded his arms and began to review in cold blood the circumstanceswhich had led to his present situation in a cross-town car. Number one,and he held up one finger:

  As it comes, at times, to every normal human, the odd idea had come tohim that what he was saying and doing as he emerged from the subway atTimes Square was what he had, sometime, somewhere, said and done beforeunder similar circumstances. That was the beginning.

  Number two, and he gravely held up a second finger:

  Always before when this idea had come to bother him it had faded after amoment or two, leaving him merely uneasy and dissatisfied.

  This time it persisted--intruding, annoying, exasperating him in hisefforts to remember things which he could not recollect.

  Number three, and he held up a third finger:

  He _had_ begun to remember! As soon as he or Smith said or did anythinghe recollected having said or done it sometime, somewhere, or recollectedthat he _ought_ to have.

  Number four--four fingers in air, stiff, determined digits:

  He had not only, by a violent concentration of his memory, succeeded inrecognizing the things said and done as having been said and done before,but suddenly he became aware that he was going to be able to foretell,vaguely, certain incidents that were yet to occur--like the prophesiedadvent of the cherry-colored car and the hat, gown, and wicker basket.

  He now had four fingers in the air; he examined them seriously, and thenstuck up the fifth.

  "Here I am," he thought, "awake, perfectly sane, absolutely respectable.Why should a foolish terror of convention prevent me from asking thatgirl whether she knows anything which might throw some light on this mostinteresting mental phenomenon?... I'll do it."

  The girl turned her head slightly; speech and the politely perfunctorysmile froze on his lips.

  She held up one finger; Brown's heart leaped. _Was_ that some cabalisticsign which he ought to recognize? But she was merely signaling theconductor, who promptly pulled the bell and lifted her basket for herwhen she got off.

  She thanked him; Brown heard her, and the crystalline voice began to ringin little bell-like echoes all through his ears, stirring endless littlemysteries of memory.

  Brown also got off; his legs struck up a walk of their own volition,carrying him across the street, hoisting him into a north-bound LexingtonAvenue car, and landing him in a seat behind the one where she hadinstalled herself and her wicker basket.

  She seemed to be having some difficulty with the wicker basket;beseeching six-toed paws were thrust out persistently; soft meows pleadedfor the right of liberty and pursuit of feline happiness. Severalpassengers smiled.

  Trouble increased as the car whizzed northward; the meows became wilder;mad scrambles agitated the basket; the lid bobbed and creaked; the girlturned a vivid pink and, bending close over the basket, attempted tosoothe its enervated inmate.

  In the forties she managed to control the situation; in the fifties afrantic rush from within burst a string that fastened the basket lid, butthe girl held it down with energy.

  In the sixties a tempest broke loose in the basket; harrowing yowlspierced the atmosphere; the girl, crimson with embarrassment anddistress, signaled the conductor at Sixty-fourth Street and descended,clinging valiantly to a basket which apparently contained a pack offirecrackers in process of explosion.

  A classical heroine in dire distress invariably exclaims aloud: "Will_no_ one aid me?" Brown, whose automatic legs had compelled him tofollow, instinctively awaited some similar appeal.

  It came unexpectedly; the kicking basket escaped from her arms, the lidburst open, and an extraordinarily large, healthy and indignant cat flewout, tail as big as a duster, and fled east on Sixty-fourth Street.

  The girl in the summer gown and white straw hat ran after the cat.Brown's legs ran, too.

  There was, and is, between the house on the northeast corner of Sixty-fourth Street and Lexington Avenue and the next house on Sixty-fourth, anopen space guarded by an iron railing; through this the cat darted, furon end, and, with a flying leap, took to the back fences.

  "Oh!" gasped the girl.

  Then Brown's legs did an extraordinary thing--they began to scramble andkick and shin up the iron railing, hoisting Brown over; and Brown'svoice, pleasant, calm, reassuring, was busy, too: "If you will look outfor my suitcase I think I can recover your cat.... It will give me greatpleasure to recover your cat. I shall be very glad to have, theopportunity of recovering--puff--puff--your--puff--puff--c-cat!" And hedropped inside the iron railing and paused to recover his breath.

  The girl came up to the railing
and gazed anxiously through at the cornerof the only back fence she could perceive.

  "What a perfectly dreadful thing to happen!" she said in a voice not verysteady. "It is exceedingly nice of you to help me catch Clarence. He isquite beside himself, poor lamb! You see, he has never before been in thecity. I--I shall be distressed beyond m-measure if he is lost."

  "He went over those fences," said Brown, breathing faster. "I think I'dbetter go after him."

  "Oh--_would_ you mind? I'd be so very grateful. It seems so much to askof you."

  "I'll do it," said Brown, firmly. "Every boy in New York has climbed backfences, and I'm only thirty."

  "It is most kind of you; but--but I don't know whether you could possiblyget him to come to you. Clarence is timid with strangers."

  Brown had already clambered on to the wooden fence. He balanced himselfthere, astride. Whitewash liberally decorated coat and trousers.

  "I see him," he said.

  "W-what is he doing?"

  "Squatting on a trellis three back yards away." And Brown lifted ablandishing voice: "Here, Clarence--Clarence--Clarence! Here, kitty--kitty--kitty! Good pussy! Nice Clarence!"

  "Does he come?" inquired the girl, peering wistfully through the railing.

  "He does not," said Brown. "Perhaps you had better call."

  "Here, puss--puss--puss--puss!" she began gently in that fascinating,crystalline voice which seemed to set tiny silvery chimes ringing inBrown's ears: "Here, Clarence, darling--Betty's own little kitty-cat!"

  "If he doesn't come to _that_," thought Brown, "he _is_ a brute." Andaloud: "If you could only let him see you; he sits there blinking at me."

  "Do you think he'd come if he saw me?"

  "Who wouldn't?" thought Brown, and answered, calmly: "I think so.... Ofcourse, you couldn't get up here."

  "I could.... But I'd better not.... Besides, I live only a few housesaway--Number 161--and I _could_ go through into the back yard."

  "But you'd better not attempt to climb the fence. Have one of theservants do it; we'll get the cat between us then and corner him."

  "There are no servants in the house. It's closed for the summer--allboarded up!"

  "Then how can you get in?"

  "I have a key to the basement.... Shall I?"

  "And climb up on the fence?"

  "Yes--if I must--if it's necessary to save Clarence.... Shall I?"

  "Why can't I shoo him into your yard."

  "He doesn't know our yard. He's a country cat; he's never stayed in town.I was taking him with me to Oyster Bay.... I came down from a week-end atStockbridge, where some relatives kept Clarence for us while we wereabroad during the winter.... I meant to stop and get some things in thehouse on my way back to Oyster Bay.... Isn't it a perfectly wretchedsituation?... We--the entire family--adore Clarence--and--I-I'm soanxious----"

  Her fascinating underlip trembled, but she controlled it.

  "I'll get that cat if it takes a month!" said Brown. Then he flushed; hehad not meant to speak so warmly.

  The girl flushed too. I am so grateful.... But how----"

  "Wait," said Brown; and, addressing Clarence in a softly alluring voice,he began cautiously to crawl along the fences toward that unresponsiveanimal. Presently he desisted, partly on account of a conspiracy engagedin between his trousers and a rusty nail. The girl was now beyond rangeof his vision around the corner.

  "Miss--ah--Miss--er--er--Betty!" he called.

  "Yes!"

  "Clarence has retreated over another back yard."

  "How horrid!"

  "How far down do you live?"

  She named the number of doors, anxiously adding: "Is Clarence fartherdown the block? Oh, please, be careful. Please, don't drive him past ouryard. If you will wait I--I'll let myself into the house and--I'll manageto get up on the fence."

  "You'll ruin your gown."

  "I don't care about my gown."

  "These fences are the limit! Full of spikes and nails.... Will you becareful?"

  "Yes, very."

  "The nails are rusty. I--I am h-horribly afraid of lockjaw."

  "Then don't remain there an instant."

  "I mean--I'm afraid of it for you."

  There was a silence; they couldn't see each other. Brown's heart wasbeating fast.

  "It is very generous of you to--think of me," came her voice, lower butvery friendly.

  "I ca-can't avoid it," he stammered, and wanted to kick himself for whathe had blurted out.

  Another pause--longer this time. And then:

  "I am going to enter my house and climb up on the fence.... Would youmind waiting a moment?"

  "I will wait here," said Beekman Brown, "until I see you." He added tohimself: "I'm going mad rapidly and I know it and don't care.... _What_--a--girl!"

  While he waited, legs swinging, astride the back fence, he examined hisinjuries--thoughtfully touched the triangular tear in his trousers,inspected minor sartorial and corporeal lacerations, set his hat firmlyupon his head, and gazed across the monotony of the back-yard fences atClarence. The cat eyed him disrespectfully, paws tucked under, tailcurled up against his well-fed flank--disillusioned, disgusted,unapproachable.

  Presently, through the palings of a back yard on Sixty-fifth Street,Brown saw a small boy, evidently the progeny of some caretaker, regardinghim intently.

  "Say, mister," he began as soon as noticed, "you have tore your pants ona nail."

  "Thanks," said Brown, coldly; "will you be good enough to mind yourbusiness?"

  "I thought I'd tell you," said the small boy, delightedly aware that theinformation displeased Brown. "They're tore awful, too. That's what youget for playin' onto back fences. Y'orter be ashamed."

  Brown feigned unconsciousness and folded his arms with dignity; but thenext moment he straightened up, quivering.

  "You young devil!" he said; "if you pull that slingshot again I'll comeover there and destroy you!"

  At the same moment above the fence line down the block a white straw hatappeared; then a youthful face becomingly flushed; then two dainty,gloved hands grasping the top of the fence.

  "I am here," she called across to him.

  The small boy, who had climbed to the top of his fence, immediatelyjoined the conversation:

  "Your girl's a winner, mister," he observed, critically.

  "Are you going to keep quiet?" demanded Brown, starting across the fence.

  "Sure," said the small boy, carelessly.

  And, settling down on his lofty perch of observation, he began singing:

  _"Lum' me an' the woild is mi-on._"

  The girl's cheeks became pinker; she looked at the small boy appealingly.

  "Little boy," she said, "if you'll run away somewhere I'll give you tencents."

  "No," said the terror, "I want to see him an' you catch that cat."

  "I'll tell you what I'll do," suggested Brown, inspired. "I'll give you adollar if you'll help us catch the cat."

  "You're on!" said the boy, briskly. "What'll I do? Touch her up with thisbean-shooter?"

  "No; put that thing into your pocket!" exclaimed Brown, sharply. "Nowclimb across to Sixty-fourth Street and stand by that iron railing sothat the cat can't bolt out into the street, and," he added, wrapping adollar bill around a rusty nail and tossing it across the fence, "here'swhat's coming to you."

  The small boy scrambled over nimbly, ran squirrel-like across thetransverse fence, dipped, swarmed over the iron railing and stood onguard.

  "Say, mister," he said, "if the cat starts this way you and your girlstart a hollerin' like----"

  "All right," interrupted Brown, and turned toward the vision ofloveliness and distress which was now standing on the top of her own backfence holding fast to a wistaria trellis and flattering Clarence with lowand honeyed appeals.

  The cat, however, was either too stupid or too confused to respond; hegazed blankly at his mistress, and when Brown began furtively edging hisway toward him Clarence arose, stood a second in alert indec
ision, thenbegan to back away.

  "We've got him between us!" called out Brown. "If you'll stand ready toseize him when I drive him----"

  There was a wild scurry, a rush, a leap, frantic clawing for foothold.

  "Now, Miss Betty! Quick!" cried Brown. "Don't let him pass you."

  She spread her skirts, but the shameless Clarence rushed headlong betweenthe most delicately ornamental pair of ankles in Manhattan.

  "Oh-h!" cried the girl in soft despair, and made a futile clutch; but shecould not arrest the flight of Clarence, she merely upset him, turninghim for an instant into a furry pinwheel, whirling through mid-air,landing in her yard, rebounding like a rubber ball, and disappearing,with one flying leap, into a narrow opening in the basement masonry.

  "Where is he?" asked Brown, precariously balanced on the next fence.

  "Do you know," she said, "this is becoming positively ghastly. He'sbolted into our cellar."

  "Why, that's all right, isn't it?" asked Brown. "All you have to do is togo inside, descend to the cellar, and light the gas."

  "There's no gas."

  "You have electric light?"

  "Yes, but it's turned off at the main office. The house is closed for thesummer, you know."

  Brown, balancing cautiously, walked the intervening fence like an amateuron a tightrope.

  Her pretty hat was a trifle on one side; her cheeks brilliant withexcitement and anxiety. Utterly oblivious of herself and of appearancesin her increasing solicitude for the adored Clarence, she sat the fence,cross saddle, balancing with one hand and pointing with the other to thebarred ventilator into which Clarence had darted.

  A wisp of sunny hair blew across her crimson cheek; slender, active,excitedly unconscious of self, she seemed like some eager, adorablelittle gamin perched there, intent on mischief.

  "If you'll drop into our yard," she said, "and place that soap boxagainst the ventilator, Clarence can't get out that way!"

  It was done before she finished the request. She disengaged herself fromthe fencetop, swung over, hung an instant, and dropped into a soft flowerbed.

  Breathing fast, disheveled, they confronted one another on the grass. Hisblue suit of serge was smeared with whitewash; her gown was a sight. Shefelt for her hat instinctively, repinned it at hazard, looked at hergloves, and began to realize what she had done.

  "I--I couldn't help it," she faltered; "I couldn't leave Clarence in acity of five m-million strangers--all alone--terrified out of his senses--could I? I had rather--rather be thought--anything than be c-cruel to ahelpless animal."

  Brown dared not trust himself to answer. She was too beautiful and hisemotion was too deep. So he bent over and attempted to dust his garmentswith the flat of his hand.

  "I am so sorry," she said in a low voice. "Are your clothes quiteruined?"

  "Oh, I don't mind," he protested happily, "I really don't mind a bit. Ifyou'll only let me help you corner that infern--that unfortunate cat Ishall be perfectly happy."

  She said, with heightened color: "It is exceedingly nice of you to sayso.... I--I don't quite know--what do you think we had better do?"

  "Suppose," he said, "you go into the basement, unlock the cellar door andcall. He can't bolt this way."

  She nodded and entered the house. A few moments later he heard hercalling, so persuasively that it was all he could do not to run to her,and why on earth that cat didn't he never could understand.