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Grannis turned abruptly to the east. It would have been quite easy,Clancy thought, to slip away and lose herself in the crowd that swarmedupon Fifth Avenue. But she had common sense. She knew that ahead ofevery flight waits the moment of pause, and that when she paused,Grannis or Zenda or the police would catch up with her; And--she had nomoney. Unless she chose to starve, she must return to-morrow, or thenext day to Miss Sally Henderson's office. There, Grannis would bewaiting for her. Besides, he had already threatened, "Pleasanter placesthan a police station!"
A police station!
What courage she had mustered to meet Grannis' first words hadevaporated as she followed him meekly up three steps and through therevolving door of a restaurant.
Within was a narrow hall, the further side of which was framed by glasswindows that ran to the ceiling, and through which was visible adining-room whose most conspicuous decorations were tubs of plants. Atone end of the hall was a grill, and at the other end was anotherrestaurant.
Grannis turned to a check-boy and surrendered his hat and coat. He threwa question at Clancy.
"Powder your nose?" He took it for granted that she would, and said:"I'll be up-stairs. Tea-room."
He sauntered toward an elevator without a glance at her. A maid showedClancy to a dressing-room. She learned what she had not happened todiscover at the Chateau de la Reine three nights ago--that everywell-appointed New York restaurant has a complete supply of powder andpuffs and rouge and whatever other cosmetics may be required.
She looked at herself in the mirror. She had never rouged in her life,considering it one of those acts the commission of which definitelyestablishes a woman as not being "good." So, even though her usuallybrilliant skin was pale with apprehension, she refused the maid's offerof artificial coloring. But she did use the powder.
Up-stairs she hesitated timidly on the threshold of the tea-room. Anorchestra was playing, and a score of couples were dancing. This wasFifth Avenue, and a word overheard in the dressing-room had informed herthat this restaurant was Ferroni's, one of the most famous, shebelieved, in the world. In her unsophistication--for Clancy wassophisticated only within certain definite limits; she could take careof herself in any conflict with a man, but would be, just now, helplessin the hands of a worldly woman--she supposed that Ferroni's patronagewas drawn from the most exclusive of New York's society. Yet the peoplehere seemed to be of about the same class as those who had been at theChateau de la Reine on Monday night. They were just as noisy, just asquiet. The women were just as much painted, just as daring in thedisplay of their limbs. They smoked when they weren't dancing.
Clancy would soon learn that the difference between Broadway and FifthAvenue is something that puzzles students of New York, and that moststudents arrive at the conclusion that the only difference is that theAvenue has more money and has had it longer. Arriving at that truth, itis simple of comprehension that money makes society. There is a pleasantfiction, to which Clancy in her Maine rearing had given credence, thatit takes generations to make that queer thing known as a "society" manor woman. She did not realize that all the breeding in the world willnot make a cad anything but a cad, or a loose woman anything but a loosewoman.
She had expected that persons who danced on Fifth Avenue would haveround them some visible, easily discernible aura of gentility. For, ofcourse, she thought that a "society man" must necessarily be agentleman. But, so far as she could see, the only difference betweenthis gathering and the gathering at Zenda's Broadway party was that thelatter contained more beautiful women, and that the men had been betterdancers.
The music suddenly stopped, and at that instant she saw Grannis sittingat a table across the room. Timidly she advanced toward him, but hertimidity was in no wise due to her association with him. It was ashyness born of lack of confidence. She was certain that her shoesclattered upon the waxed floor and that every woman who noticed hersmiled with amused contempt at her frock. These things, because Clancywas young, were of more importance than the impending interview withGrannis.
"That rouge becomes you," said Grannis brusquely, as she sat down in thechair beside him.
Clancy stared at him. She did not know that embarrassment had restoredcolor to her cheeks.
"I never rouge," she replied curtly.
"Oh, well, don't get mad about it. I don't care a rap whether you do ordon't," he said. "Only, you're looking prettier than a while ago." Heeyed her closely. His near-sighted eyes took on an expression ofpersonal interest. Heretofore, his expression had been impersonal. Butnow she felt that Grannis was conscious that she was a young girl, notbad to look upon. She resented it. Perhaps Grannis caught thatresentment. He picked up a menu.
"Eat?" he asked.
He was a monosyllabic sort of person, Clancy decided, frugal of words.Something inside her bade her be cautious. Those who are frugal ofspeech force others to be wasteful, and Clancy, in so far as, in herchaotic mental state, she had arrived at any decision, had decided tocommit herself as little as possible. If she was to be accused of themurder of Morris Beiner, the less she said the better.
But the one-word questions demanded an answer. She suddenly realizedthat excitement had temporarily made her forget hunger. But hungerforgotten is not hunger overcome. She hadn't eaten since breakfast. Yet,because of the social timidity that had made her walk mincingly acrossthe room, she said she preferred that Grannis should order. Clancy wasonly four days away from Maine, where it is still not considered toowell bred to declare that one is famished.
Fortunately, however, Grannis was hungry. He ordered sandwiches--severalvarieties--and a pot of tea. Then he looked at Clancy. She wasexperiencing various emotions to-day, many of them survivals of age-oldinstinct. Now she felt suddenly conscious that Grannis was dishonest.
"Dance?" Grannis asked. She shook her head. "Been in the city long?"
"Not very," she replied.
"Not living at the Napoli any more, eh?" She shook her head again. "SeenFay to-day? Fay Marston?" Once more she shook her head. "Don't feel liketalking, eh?" She shrugged. "Oh, well, there's no hurry. I can wait----"
She did not learn what Grannis would wait for, because the arrival ofthe waiter stopped Grannis's speech. She hoped that her face did notshow her anxiety, not about his questioning, but about the food. Theinstinct that told her that Grannis was dishonest also told her that oneneed not fear greatly a dishonest person. She began, as the waiterarranged the service, to analyze Grannis's actions. If he knew of hervisits to Beiner, why did he bring her here? Why didn't he denounce herto the police? The question answered itself. He knew nothing of thosevisits.
Her hands were steady as she reached for the tea-pot. She poured it witha grace that caught Grannis's attention.
"Wish to God that was something you could teach a woman who never hadany real bringing-up. Trouble with pictures is the same trouble that'sthe matter with everything else in this world--the people in them. Howcan you teach a girl that ain't a lady to act like one? You could getmoney just for that way you handle that tea. Never thought of tryingpictures, did you?"
"Not--seriously," said Clancy.
"Pretty good graft you got at Miss Henderson's, I suppose. Ike Webersteer you against it?"
Clancy bit into a sardine sandwich in a leisurely manner. She swallowed,then drank some tea. Then, in a careless tone, she replied:
"Mr. Weber never steered me against anything. I never met him until thenight of Mr. Zenda's party. And I haven't seen him since."
"You'd stick to that--in a court-room?"
Clancy laughed. "I'll never have to, will I?"
Into Grannis's dull eyes crept admiration.
"Kid, I'm for you," he said. Clancy shrugged again. Although no one hadever commented on it, she knew that her shrug was a prettily provocativething. "Don't care whether I'm for you or not, eh?"
Clancy stared at him. "You know," he said, "if I tipped off this MissHenderson that Weber planted you with her so's you could steersuckers--we
althy folks that don't mind a little game--his way, how longdo you think your graft would last?"
"You'd have to prove what you said, you know," Clancy reminded him.
"Kid, why haven't you been round to see Zenda?" he asked.
"Why should I go round to see him?"
Grannis's eyes took on a cunning look.
"Now you're talking business. We're getting down to cases. Listen, kid:You were scared of me a while ago. You've forgotten that. Why?" Clancyreached for another sandwich. She made no answer. "You're certainlythere, kid!" exclaimed her companion. "No one is running a blazer onyou, are they?"
"No one is fooling me, if that's what you mean," said Clancy.
"You've said it! Well, I won't try to bluff you, kid. I've found you.It's a lucky chance, and I don't deserve any credit for it, but--I foundyou--before Zenda did. Before Ike did, if it comes to that. And Ike'sthe guy that wants you. I been feeling you out, to find out where youstood. I know that Ike didn't plant you with Miss Henderson. I dunno howyou got in there. All Fay knows of you is that you were living at theNapoli, and were going in the movies, she thought. But Fay's ablab-mouth, and Ike and I know what she told you--about her and Ikeworking together to gyp people in poker games. Well, Ike figures that,as long as you disappear, he should worry, but when I run into youto-day, I begin to wonder. Now I see that you're no boob. Well then,take a look at that!"
"That" was a bill. The denomination was the largest Clancy had ever seenon a piece of money. One thousand dollars! And Grannis placed it on thetable by her plate.
"Slip it into your kick, kid. There's more where it came from. Put itaway before the waiter sees it. Understand?" Clancy didn't understand,and her face showed it. "Weber is coming back to town," said Grannis."He can't come back if there's real evidence against him. The only_real_ evidence is what Fay Marston told you. Can you keep your mouthshut?"
Clancy stared at him. Grannis grinned. He entirely misunderstood herbewilderment. He rose suddenly, placing a five-dollar bill on the table.
"I'm in a hurry. That's for the tea. So long, kid." He walked away,leaving Clancy staring at the thousand-dollar bill.