CHAPTER IX
A SIGN IN THE SKY
At the end of four days Christina's friends gave up their private searchfor the retreat of the Arm of Justice.
During those days Herrick and the faithful Stanley, sometimesaccompanied by Wheeler's stalwart hopefulness, had persistentlyattempted to take up the trail where it had broken--in the fields at oneend of the Hoover estate. The beautiful old place, one of the great showplaces of the Hudson, stretched three miles deep to the river bank and amile and a half along the road; remembering the theory of an escapethrough the grounds they presented themselves as richly tipping touriststo the little old, old couple at the lodge. These aged folk accustomed,during the Hoovers' prolonged absence abroad, to curious sightseers,welcomed them beneath the winged marble lions of the entrance-gates andmade them free of the grounds with a host-like courtesy. But no brokenshrubbery, no footstep save of that of a stray gardener or of theirrival searchers the police, rewarded them; from the Hudson Club'sboathouse, which had rented a strip of the beach, no boat was missing;the shores of unbroken woodland for a league on either side yielded nosign; when a hanging shutter at the great house led to a belief that therefugees had sheltered there the friends watched anxiously thedisappointed ransacking of privileged authorities, and their only gaincame from the gossip of the old lodge-keepers which informed them thatthe body of Nicola Pascoe had never been found. He could, then, havebeen only stunned. Thus it was still he they were most alert for duringthe next three days when the whole district--inns and post-offices,country-stores and stable-yards as well as every grove andby-lane--yielded them by day or night no scrap of news.
During their search, indeed, what clues existed had crumbled away. Thecabman, for instance, had most truly driven Christina to the Amsterdamhotel, where she had simply given him so large a tip as to upset hissobriety and earn his discharge. Meeting in with the manager of ThePalisades and applying fuddleheadedly for relief he had conveyed to thatgentleman the idea of "knowing something," and had been sent to sober upat Riley's in order to keep the reward in the family. Then the day-clerkof the Amsterdam brought forth Christina's registered signature,engaging a suite on Thursday afternoon for Thursday night; she hadclaimed this suite from the night-clerk and occupied it; early in themorning she had sent for the housekeeper and hired some clothes of hers,saying she couldn't wait for her maid to bring her any. The frightenedhousekeeper had at length displayed the white and silver dress. Last andworst, to Herrick, when, on Saturday, he had sought out the tabled'hote, the dogs, the cats, the babies were unchanged, the Italianproprietress greeted him with a smile of welcome, but no gray-hairedwoman played solitaire behind the desk.
It was a curious enough blight without being heightened by the fact thatKane's patience with Herrick had plainly given out. Ever since the youngman's return from Waybridge he had been aware of a change in theofficial attitude which rendered it suddenly impossible for him to seeany one whom he asked to see and stretched like a fine wire excludinghim from the whole affair. It increased his sense of outlawry, but aprivate preoccupation kept it from striking home.
This preoccupation ran parallel with, but, alas! could never be broughtto meet that old story of the Hopes' love-affair which he could not helpfeeling to be the key to the true, the hidden, situation. That littlepitted speck--and his novel! His novel of the Italian impostor! On themorrow of his chase after Nicola the table d'hote had scarcely failedhim before he was knocking at the door of Mrs. Deutch.
He took her for a walk on Riverside Drive, to be out of the way ofdictographs, and laid before her not only the whole labyrinth of hisperplexities but the best outline he could make of his dim conjectures.He had not failed to secure Signor Gabrielli's address from the Inghamoffice and he now put forward a petition which he tried not to feelmonstrous. "Mrs. Deutch, there is a man who knows some strange thingsand strange people, who might perhaps send to Naples and receive fromthere a very enlightening cablegram. I am less than nothing to him, hewill never send it for me. But I needn't tell you he is a man of greatsensibility, very susceptible both to shame and pride. And still, aftertwenty-five years, he carries the miniature of his betrothed."
Mrs. Deutch looked out across the proud bright waters. Through theserene air the somber glory of an autumn leaf floated to her feet; itsfellows were gathered everywhere in withered piles which shoutingchildren rejoiced to trample into powder. "Yes," she said, by-and-by, "Iwill see him. There are always perhaps those of whom he is afraid.Perhaps he is like that. But it will be easy to say, 'We were very fondof each other, you and I, we were so young and you were so beautiful aperson! It would be a great happiness to think that now you were brave!'I can tell him 'Christina is my youth and my prettiness and my truefaith and all that you once knew.' Oh, yes, he will give them back tome! He will send your message!"
He had, indeed, sent it; but on Tuesday afternoon no reply had arrived.Having given up the countryside in despair Herrick could not keep awayfrom the table d'hote and, merely as a curious resort, he asked Stanley,who was returning to Springfield on Wednesday, to meet him there fordinner. He was able to show his guest the gorgeous Mr. Gumama with theknit, gloomy glories of his Saracen brow, but no mystery showed afeather. Inquiry, in his primitive Italian, elicited a statement thatnearly wrenched a groan from his lips--his old lady had taken her eldestgrandniece, Maria Rosa, to visit relations in the country! The mother ofMaria Rosa insisted with a sweet smile that she could not remember thename of the place.
The young men sat for a while in the square, where Stanley's astutenessdiscovered so many blackmailers in the gentle, lolling crowd that eventhe statue of Garibaldi seemed scarcely safe, and then they started upFifth Avenue; the austere, departing dignities of whose lower end neverseem so faded, so historic, so composed, as in September dusks. Whenthey made out the identity of an angular correctness sailing stiffly buthandsomely some distance ahead of them, it seemed of all neighborhoodsthe most suitable in which to encounter Ten Euyck; yet they loitered,lacking the spirit to cope with their opportunities. And Stanley, whowas still in favor with the powers, began to attempt the diversion ofhis moodier companion with an account of Ten Euyck's efforts to propelthe Commissioner of Police. "Every little while you forget that he isn'tanybody and can't do anything, even if there were anything to do. Andyou say to yourself, 'Golly! I'd rather Chris stayed lost than that helaid hands on her.' He looks so black and white and dried in vinegar hedoes get on your nerves all right. You remember what a lot of money he'sgot, after all, and pull and all the rest of it, and you feel as if he'dbe able to find _something_ against her--or, even if he didn't--"
In the warm still evening his voice had carried farther than he thought;Ten Euyck turned round and recognized them. Evidently without offense,since he stood waiting for them to overtake him. "Good news for you,Ingham," he greeted the boy. "Judge Fletcher does not consider aconfession equivalent to pleading guilty in the first degree! Moreover,in strict confidence, the judge is a veteran with an extreme distastefor the artistic temperament! If the prisoner is brought before him weshall get a first degree sentence yet!"
"Oh, I don't care!" cried the lad, making a disgusted face. "It's alltoo horrible and--and queer, somehow! I don't want to hear about it."
"Oh, if your consideration is for the actor in the lady's cloak--what asymbol of his whole conduct!--I understand he prefers it." Ten Euyckgave a short laugh. He was evidently in his happy vein of inquisitorialpower. "When a man's been ruffling before the public in lace and satinand diamonds of course he baulks at prison accommodations. Yet eventhere our temperamental friend is welching."--He had evidentlyapproached his point and they could not deny him the tribute of a stare.
"We may be very foolish, my dear sirs, but we are not incapable oflearning and I may tell you that we have acted on a hint."
"You mean by 'we' yourself and the law?"
"Perhaps I do, Mr. Herrick. At any rate, this time to-morrow we shallhave rung the door-bell of the Arm of Justice."
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p; He took a tolerant pity on their restiveness, relaxing to an urbanesmile as though his machinery were eased by the oil which always flowedwhen his prosecuting talent raised its head. "When that disgracefullaxity occurred at the Tombs and a prisoner was attacked there, we tooka leaf from the criminals' book and put in among the guards some men ofour own. One of these, a man named Firenzi, a very capable fellow,informed himself in no time of a marvelously well-paid plan for theprisoner's escape. Yes, by the very tribe who tried to kill him.Anything, you see, to get him out of the way. The idea is the old one ofpassing him out as a guard, leaving the true-false guard quite overcomein his cell;--a slim chap who's let wear a black beard on account ofasthma or some such nonsense. They naturally suppose that an actor willlook less conspicuous than most criminals in a bit of make-up! Does ourconsistent hero refuse to go? Filled with the bright hope of a hangingjudge he does have to be coaxed a little, but not much. He is not luredby being told that he is to be sent to the safety of foreign lands, afar-off country and, I believe, a tropical climate, suited to hiscomplexion. Firenzi reports him as demanding what they suppose there isin this foreign country to interest him. 'The lady who throws a shadowthat you know.' 'It's enough!' says Denny, through his teeth, I aminformed. I don't mind telling you that it's enough for us, too! Theywill be sure to take him to their nest to transfer him to the escort oftheir gang and his visit--before a Sampson shorn of his new beard andhaving still further done for himself with Fletcher, is returned to ajail somewhat less porous than he imagines to-night--his visit will bewell watched!"
They had reached Thirty-fourth Street and turned toward Broadway whereStanley had an errand. The two puppets in Ten Euyck's hands had nothingto say. Neither of them could bring himself to utter his excitement inthat now potent presence and Herrick wondered if he were reallytrembling. A far-off country! The phrase chilled and hardened him, aspremeditated safety always does. He was scarcely even grateful for thestrength and fleetness of her wings. Never had Ten Euyck's inspectorshipseemed less absurd or more really a fact. Of to-night and to-morrow hewas now the master. And yet, beside the news of a far-off country, whatnews could he wring from the Arm of Justice to-morrow for which Herrickneed care so much? They stopped on the corner of Long Acre and asStanley plunged into a drug-store, a certain embarrassment fell upon thetwo men left together. "It's remarkable how warm it is!" Ten Euyck said.
Herrick refrained from the flippancy of replying, "Wonderful weather forthe time of year!" On closer inspection Ten Euyck proved a good dealworked up. His excitement was like a sort of dry paste and as he nowgrew pastier and pastier something that was almost a tremor seemed aboutto crack it; in fact the dry mask of his face was suffering from alockjaw which was his form of hysteria. He took off his hat and, cold ashe looked, produced an extremely superior handkerchief and wiped hisbrow. He said something about the last hot spell of the year and hislips clicked on the words as though they were rather a compromisingstatement; was it the coming crisis that creaked in his throat? Itoccurred to Herrick that Ten Euyck might be suffering from a sense thathis vanity of achievement and his taste for torture, in leading him todisclose to-morrow's program, had led him injudiciously far. At any ratehe studied, as if for sympathy, the irreproachable excellence of hishat-lining and a little pink line came out about his nose.
Herrick looked uneasily at the doorway beyond which Stanley stillloitered; he saw no reprieve. And as he made sure of this Ten Euyckagain fortified himself with the interior of his hat and spoke. "On yourhonor, now, Herrick, you wouldn't keep it from me? You've no idea whereshe is?" And he followed this extraordinary question with a piteous, ablenching glance.
Herrick did not speak; and Ten Euyck moistened his lips. The wholeoutline of his face seemed to take on a certain sharpness, and famineand fever thrust themselves, for a moment, into the windows of his eyes.In the silence which Herrick could not break, he murmured, "I'm not likethis about women! You know that! Only she--" His voice cracked and thensnapped off short, but with a hundred quiverings, like the string of abanjo breaking.
Herrick seemed to himself to look through a door, in a house ofrevelations. Was this what covered Ten Euyck's complacent coldness tothe other sex? Did those neat and formal lips often stifle an outcrylike this? True, Christina's own story had revealed to him that TenEuyck's coldness was all hot ice and very swarthy snow. But he hadpresumed that incident to be a deliberate brutality; Ten Euyck hadalways appeared to govern his instincts masterfully or to walk on them,indeed, with heels of iron. To see him bared and shaken like this was toput a new value on the force that had betrayed him; but Herrick was tooyoung and too much in love to endure this lusting and trembling breathwhen it blew upon Christina.
"On the whole," said he, deliberately, "keep your confidences toyourself, can't you? They make me sick."
The pinkness spread over Ten Euyck's face:
"Oh, I had forgotten your happiness!" he managed to cry, with a fierceshaking laugh. "Do let me know the date of the wedding!" He lifted hishat and strode from a neighborhood dangerous to dignity. But as he flungover his shoulder the ejaculation, "I hope you thought my diamondsbecame her!" Stanley's return arrested him.
"These infernal papers!" the boy cried.
Neither he nor Herrick had ever been strong enough to deny themselvesthe foolish headlines where one hour Christina had been seen as apassenger for Hongkong and another as a chambermaid in Yonkers. Nancy'sill-treated locket had roused the public to frenzy, but its imaginationhad definite items only of the eclipsing Christina Hope who, in themid-day editions, generally lapsed to a lunatic in a suburbansanitarium; but nightfall always saw her mount again to the ghastliestand most criminal of "bodies." It was some such horror upon whichStanley had now fallen; below it Herrick saw the statement that in a dayor two Denny would come up for sentence before Judge Fletcher.
He had little enough love for Will Denny, but it was with a feeling ofnausea that he observed the mounting satisfaction of Ten Euyck. Afterfour years the law was to wipe out, for its most obedient son, a blowacross the mouth! It was, nevertheless, the poisoned rumor of Christinawhich had set the air afire between all three men. This dealt with somelovely fugitive hunted out that day by wireless and then disappearingfrom a steamer in mid-ocean. The languor of an incredible fatigue stolefeverishly through Herrick's veins. Ten Euyck shouted to Stanley in akind of bark, "Well, no waves can hold her down!" And he began to hum atune in defiance of the faith with which Herrick's silence defied theprinted words. Herrick looked up and their gaze met across the screamingcolumns. Ten Euyck's tune was, "Come rest in this bosom, my own strickendeer." Herrick knocked the newspaper out of his hand and there was asecond's tense fury before these two, who had forgotten everything else,should leap at each other. In that second Stanley, lifting his eyes,whistled excitedly and caught Herrick's arm.
They were standing at the corner of Long Acre where five nights agoHerrick had met Wheeler in the rain. Fiery words and figures flashedtheir announcements, bright as ever, against the soft, lowering, purpleblackness of the night. Down the side street Wheeler's theater, sinceChristina's disappearance, had been dark. It was still closed, butWheeler must now have taken heart; for dark, save in theatricalparlance, it was no longer. The electric sign--
ROBERT WHEELER IN THE VICTORS
had been re-lighted. And beneath this, in letters of equal size andbrilliancy ran the surprising legend--
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 20TH, CHRISTINA HOPE WILL POSITIVELY REAPPEAR