Persons Unknown
CHAPTER X
"THE OLD EARL'S DAUGHTER": MRS. PASCOE ON FAMILY TIES
"I know no more than you do," Wheeler said. "Or rather, no more thanthis." And he spread before them a sheet of writing-paper.
Above the penciled scribble was neither date nor heading, but thesignature in Christina's slapdash scrawl made the world spin beforeHerrick's eyes. Upon that sheet of paper her hand had rested and hadwritten there to Wheeler, but not to him! The message ran--
"Announce me for Thursday night, September 20th. I will be there.
"CHRISTINA HOPE."
"Where did it come from?"
"From the infernal regions, apparently. It was left here at the clubwithout the mannikin in buttons so much as noticing by whom. It may havebeen written from across the street; it may have been enclosed fromanywhere."
"When?"
"This noon-time. You don't doubt its being genuine?" Wheeler asked. "Nomore do I. As for what to think, I haven't a guess. The girl may be, forall I know, a mere born-devil, or the tool of devils. Let her come backto my cast, and, for what I care, she may bring all hell in her pocket!I've had a very nasty interview with Ten Euyck, who thinks I can explainmy sign."
Stanley stood there with his face working. "You don't mean to tell me,"he cried aloud, "you don't mean to tell me that it's been nothing but anadvertising trick from the beginning!"
"God forgive you!" Wheeler said. "You are our public!--No, my dear lad,there is one thing in this angelic wildcat of ours that you can tie to.When she tells me, in our business, to bank on her being in the theaterThursday night, I bank on it; if she can set one foot before the other,there she will be. That's my belief, if it were my last breath, and I'mstaking everything on it. But we've got to allow for one thing. _If shecan!_ Christina has a great idea of her powers. But, even for her,heaven and earth are not always movable."
More people than one were perhaps discovering a certain helplessnessbefore fate. About noon of the next day Mrs. Pascoe sat knitting in abedroom above her niece's table d'hote. There was only one other personin the room, a smallish man in the early thirties, who looked as thoughhe had once been a gentleman, and whose correct feminine little featureswere now drawn into an expression at once weak and wild. His softhelpless-looking figure writhed and twitched as he now lay down and nowsat up upon the bed; his face was swollen with weeping and the tearsstill flowed from his eyes.
"Well, if yeh're goin' to take on that way," said Mrs. Pascoe, "I dunnoas I can blame her any. I dunno as I blame her anyhow. Yeh neverobjected when there was any money in it. It's kind o' late to carry on,now. What say?"
The gentleman poured forth in Italian, which Mrs. Pascoe understoodbetter than he did English, that the lady he lamented had never wishedto leave him before; she had never loved anybody before; hitherto it hadalways been business. The business of the whole family he had neverinterfered with, but this he would not bear; he had borne too much.And, indeed, from his language, it appeared that he had.
"My," said Mrs. Pascoe, "men are funny! Yeh been married to my girlsince she was sixteen years old, and she ain't never treated yeh likeanything but dirt. Well, what do yeh want to hang on to her for! Clearout! You ain't like me. Yeh can get another wife but I ain't got noother daughter. I gotta stick. She don't want me either. She wants swiftfolks an' gay folks, she'd forget she was mine if she could. But shecan't! An' I can't! I can't deny anything yeh got to say. You say sheruined yer life. She'd ruin anybody's she can get her clutch onto. Yousay she don't love you. If you ask me, why should she? Even if 'twasn'therself she was thinkin' of, first, last an' all the time! She ain'tnever cared for any human bein' but this actin' feller, an' that's'cause he cares 'bout the other one. Still, she got hold of him, oncet,an' do you think if she can get him again, if she can get them fellersour boys know to snake him out onto that boat for 'er, she's goin' tocare whether you like it or not? You take it from me you ain't goin' tosail to-morrow any--or anyway not with us. You ain't never wantedanything but a wife that could take care o' you, an' you're quite apretty lookin' little feller. The best you can do is to get some moneyout of her an' get a divorce."
The young man rolled back and forth and bit the pillows. Mrs. Pascoe,who had hitherto regarded him with contemptuous tolerance, observed awave of genuine despair in this sea of grief and her eyes narrowed.
"See here, young man," she said, "don't you let me ketch ye doin'anything underhanded--squealin' on us or tryin' to keep us here, 'causewe got to get out. If I was to say a word to my son that I thought that,there wouldn't be no prettiness left to you. I ain't goin' to have herlocked up in no jail for any man that ever was born. Mebbe you think,'cause I speak harsh of her, I ain't fond of 'er. Why, you little fool,I ain't never had a thought but for that minx since she was born. Evenwhen I first see the other child, an' the resemblance gimme such a turn,the first thing I think of was how I was goin' to get somepun' out of itfor her. That's why when I got to nurse the little thing I never let onfur a minute that I had one the spittin' breathin' image of it,--hair,mouth and nose, an' the eyes, too, so I near fainted when I first seentheirs--somepun' warned me to shut up an' somepun' 'ud come of it. Theythought I'd just gone cracked on their baby. It's been the same eversince. I read all them yarns about changed children an' I thought itwould be funny if I couldn't work it. An' I did. She used to act it allto me afterwards, right out in poertry. 'The ol' earl's daughter died atmy breast'--Didn't she ever do any of her actin' fur you? Goes--'Iburied her like my own sweet child an' put my child in her stead.'" Mrs.Pascoe gave this forth with an inimitable relish of its stylishprecedent. "If theirs hadn't died I'd ha' worked it somehow. They wasrich then. She's walked on me an' on them, an' on the whole blame lot ofus, ever since. But she's mine. What she wants she's goin' to have,--himor anything--I can't prevent her. No more can you. I'm goin' to stan' byher. An' you've got to."
"He's a murderer!" shrieked the Italian gentleman. "He's a murderer!"
"Seems like it's catchin'," Mrs. Pascoe commented. "Here's my daughtertells me you was hangin' round Mrs. Hope's all last Friday, lookin' furthat spy feller, an' all is you wasn't even competent to find him.--Iguess I don't want to hear no talk outer you! Though as far forth aswhat roughness goes I don't say but what you wus druv to it."
The young man rose and stretching out a delicate hand, over which agold bracelet drooped from underneath a highly fashionable British cuff,tremulously lighted a cigarette. Under its soothing influence he repliedthat of course he was a lost soul and he didn't deny that his companionshad at last succeeded in dragging him to their level.
Mrs. Pascoe snorted like an angry horse. "Now you look here, Filly; whenI married Mr. Ansello I didn't have no more idee what his business wasthan what you had. So far forth as what that goes, I didn't rightlyketch the whole o' what was goin' on till you come whoopin' along an'got us all into that muss where we had to clear out back to my country.I was mighty glad we did an' cut loose from all them demons--I said thenan' I say now I won't stand fur nothin' rough! But you know as well as Ido, oncet we was started out fur ourselves there's nobody ain't workedharder to keep to the quiet part o' the business 'un what yerbrother-in-law an' yer wife has. It usta be, before Ally come back, thatthings did get oncet in a while beyond Nick's control, but never anymore, thank the Lord--not in his own little crowd 'ut he has anything todo with! I guess there's one thing we agree on, young feller; it's jus'druv me crazy, lately, to get mixed up with the regular Society again.It's gettin' to be so big, even in this country, it won't let none o'the little ones work fur themselves--all this month since it took us inI've felt there was things goin' on I never got to hear of an' I'mmighty glad we're goin' to get away from it to-morrer." She caughtherself back from what was evidently a favorite topic. "But don't let mehear any more talk about draggin' down! You've done considerabledraggin' on us with all that feller spyin' on yeh costs us, an' yeh'dought to thank the children the way they've kep' yeh clear out o' thewhole business. Why, nobody hardly knows 'ut
yer alive! Y' ain't askedto do anything, y' ain't asked to show yerself, y' ain't even ever beena member, so now the Society ain't nabbed on yeh none. I wisht ithadn't sent fur yeh to the meetin' to-day, jus' to take Nick the wordan' his money. Ally nor me, we won't do--no, they gotta have a man, an'I s'pose they take you fur one! So far forth as what that goes the lessI have to do with their greasy meetin's the better I like it, but I wantyou should be awful careful. If oncet they was to get on to who youwas--Now, Filly, don't you smash them mugs!"
The Italian hastily resigned the object with which he had been angrilyand absently rapping the table, and, exhausted with sobbing, began tobreathe upon and polish his fingernails.
The mug, or jug, a little earthenware copy of a two-handled Etruscandrinking-vase, was one of three which stood there side by side, exactlyalike save that the crude design which each of them bore--an arm andhand holding a scales--was differently colored; one red, one white, onegreen. But Mrs. Pascoe was aware of another difference and she turnedthe jugs around in a bar of sunlight till she found it; on one jug thescales of justice were gilded, on another silvered, on the third painteda dull gray. The single exclamation stenciled over each designtranslated into a sort of jingle:
Gold buys! Silver pays! Lead slays!
"Ain't she the hand," exclaimed Mrs. Pascoe, "for monkey-shines! Don'tyou wonder what they do with these here, Filly? Mr. Gumama asked Ally toget him these new ones fur to-day. She'd have to fancy a thing up if 'twas only to take a pill out of. Comin' in las' night without the car,what with luggin' these here an' the paul-parrot--'t ain't spoke a word,that bird ain't, since it left here!--I dunno but I'd ha' broke my neckhadn't been fur M'ree. I do hate turrible to part from M'ree--I declare,if ever anything happens to my Ally, I'll come back here an' put up withthese Dagoes on M'ree's account--Now, for mercy's sake, Filly, don'thowl!"
For the mention of parting had brought on a still more violent attack ofthe young man's anguish. The smile--wan but touched with the charm ofSicilian plaintiveness--with which he had been reconciling himself tolife utterly disappeared; he ceased half-way through an excellent polishand casting himself down as from the Tarpeian rock, blubbered into thebedspread.
The old lady regarded him with contempt passing again into suspicion andthen into a softening weariness that rose in her manner like an anxietythat all the time had barely been held down. "Filly," said Mrs. Pascoewith sudden friendliness and such an uneasy, furtive look of dread asquite transformed her face, "what'er they goin' to do with that girl?"
He lay quiet a moment, as if discomfortably arrested by the question.Then he asked, how did he know? Take her, leave her; what was it to him?
"Well, 't ain't hardly likely they're goin' to take her--an' her felleron the boat! An' I should jus' like to know how they could leave her!" Astrange, helpless tremor passed across that firm mouth. "Oh, why was sheever brought away? I allus knoo what it 'ud come to! Times there I didhope she was goin' to die, poor thing! But it war n't to be!" There wasno sound but the sound of Filly, growling moistly into the bed.
Mrs. Pascoe,--or, according to her own reference, Mrs. Ansello--lookedat the clock and began to fold up her knitting. But her long pent-upbroodings burst from her again in a new channel. "One while I was scaredNick was kind o' losin' his head about the little piece. What with himgettin' more an' more stuck on her, all the time, an' her sick with loveuv another feller, even to the farm I didn't know from one day to thenext what he would do. But when he made out 't was safer to take heralone with him up t' the old place--Well, we all had to scuttle therethat very same night, an' when she begun to take on for that letter Iguess he forgot all them feelin's. He ain't never let a human bein'stand in his sister's way an', however pretty that little neck o' hersmight strike him, 't wouldn't take him two minutes t' wring it if he gotscared she'd shoot her mouth against Allegra. I've had bad dreams beforeyou ever was born, but I ain't ever had any like waitin' fur the bunchto come home that night an' the river so handy! I never thought I'd beglad to see my son half-bled to death--but there, there's allus mercies!I expect he wishes, though, he'd come straight home from thepost-office, instead o' snoopin' round that hotel! The sea-voyage'll fixhim up all right, an' he's strong enough an' cross enough an' sickenough to pull the whole house down 'cause he can't get back an' forthwithout the car. Filly," she shot forth, "sure as you live he's gotsomething made up fur to-night about that girl!"
The Italian gentleman taking this as a still further personaldegradation, inquired aloud why he ever was born. But Mrs. Pascoe didnot attempt the obvious retort.
She rose, fetched paper and string and, with an impotence foreign to herwhole nature, fumbled in tying up the jugs. "I've allus said I wouldn'tstand fur it, allus! But what can I do? I tell him I'll curse the lastbreath he draws--but can I stop him? Yeh know what he is--can anybodystop him? I tell yeh what 't is, Filly, I'm gettin' scared uv him! Yes,now I'm past sixty, I'll say it fur oncet--I'm scared uv him! And then,poor boy, so far forth as what that goes, what can he do, himself? Whenyou come down to it, what can any uv us do? The girl knowseverything--nobody knows that better'n you!--an' what she knows she'llblab. She's soft-lookin' but she's got a chin an' she's in love! If herfeller's done fur, we're goin' to be done fur, too! There's my daughterto consider an' every last one uv us. Jus' now, too, when Ally's goin'to get her divorce an' be so happy! What can I do?"
There was the sound of doors opening and closing and of some one comingupstairs. But Mrs. Pascoe paid no heed. Her unaccustomed garrulity,which had hitherto seemed the result of mere strain, began to appear asher idea of conciliation for the ushering in of a plan. "I've only onething I can say favorable to you, Filly," she urged him, "yeh ain'trough an' yeh was a gentleman. Yeh don't want screamin' an' hurtin',I'll be bound. She's a little lady, Filly, an' she's 'n American girl.Well, what I'm gettin' at is, would yeh dare do this? Now she'sconscious, they won't lemme near her. But they'll never suspect you. Iwant yeh should tell her there's a bottle o' laudanum fur M'ree's toothin my closet an' if she wants it, give it to her. Give it to her quick!"
The Italian gentleman giving no sign of finding consolation in thisprospect, "Oh, yeh'll never in the world do it!" Mrs. Pascoe groaned."Yeh ain't got the nerve uv a sick worm! Why, it's different,--can't yehsee, Filly?--if she asks fur it herself--it's different, ain't it? It'swhat she promised to do in the beginnin'. An' now, jus' out o'spitework, she won't. But I bet she will to-night. Whatever's up, she'llknow it before they get her feller out there to-night. Give it to her,Filly!"
There was a knock at the door and the proprietress of the table d'hoteentered cheerfully. "They come?" inquired Mrs. Pascoe. "Well, time Iwent. There, get up, Filly, an' blow yer nose, do! Come, come, yeh don'twant the gentleman yer wife's goin' to marry to be brought up an' findyeh wallerin' on yer stomach!--Well, stay where yeh be! But now yeh mindwhat I was tellin' yeh, awhile back, about bein' anyways treacherous.'T wouldn't be the first time but 't would be the last! My daughter's mydaughter, an' as fur my son--I never said there was anythin' so rough Iwouldn't stand fur it, when it come to Dagoes!"