Sound of the Trumpet

  So the questioning went on, and the day wore to its close. She was very weary and faint, but they did not send her out to lunch. Instead they brought a tray with coffee and sandwiches, and twice more she was called in to be questioned again. There were other girls called and questioned, also, but not as many times as herself, and they were not kept in the office so long.

  And all this time where was Victor?

  She had counted on Victor to help her through this. Perhaps she had been wrong to come back at all. Perhaps she should have stayed in New York. Only, police were wise and quick to search out lost people, and returning had seemed to her the best way to disarm suspicion. If only Victor were here, he would take her part and defend her from all this silly questioning. She could wind Victor around her smooth little finger, she was sure. That was one reason why she half thought she would marry him, because she could always do with him what she wished. But she needed him now. Why didn’t he come?

  And now they were asking her more about her relationship with her employer. Didn’t he talk the business of the plant over with her often? Hadn’t he told her of the secret things that were being made for war purposes? Hadn’t he described articles that were being made? Hadn’t he taken her into the workrooms at odd hours when the shifts were changing and no one would observe them? Wasn’t she interested in machinery? Hadn’t she once asked him to take her to see it?

  Oh, the endless questions! Would they never cease? If only Victor would come and put an end to it all! Was he under suspicion and questioning, too? Oh, surely not. Perhaps he had been drinking and was having a hangover. He was doing too much of that. She must get him out of that if she really took him over.

  But as the day wore on, Erda was almost of the opinion that she was going to escape from this setting and get away to pastures new. She would contact Weaver and Lacey and get sent elsewhere. They didn’t need her here any longer. She had accomplished their purpose for them, and they could afford to pay her a little more and send her to parts unknown. Especially if the police were getting this murder slant on things. They were stressing it so much that it almost seemed to outweigh the robbery. Though, of course, if they could prove who did the murder it would help to solve the mystery about the robbery.

  She was surprised that she did not hear any whispering about what had happened from the other girls, but they were absolutely mum. No talk whatever, unless it were to ask for paper or letters that they were working on. Well, this, too, was a part of their scheme to put her on the spot, she supposed, and being Erda, and proud of her shady record, she held up her head, determined to see it through and show them that they were barking up the wrong tree. She would come out of this innocent as a lamb. She had done it before with other governments, and she would do it again. So she sat smiling through the hours and waiting for what came next.

  Chapter 18

  Lisle went about her daily program like one walking on the clouds. Rosy clouds, too. War might be in the world, and sorrow and disappointment. Separation might loom, and undoubtedly would be on her horizon, but just for the present her soul was filled with ecstasy. Just to know the touch of John Sargent’s lips, the feel of his arms about her in that quick parting clasp, just to hear over and over that quick whisper, “Dear, good-bye!” That was enough to give her such joy as she had never known before.

  Oh, there would come a time when she would want something more to satisfy the questions that would come. But she knew he was honorable. All the rest would come in due time. It simply hadn’t come to her consciousness as yet.

  And then one day there came a letter. A dear letter. It brought back the thrill of his presence.

  It began very simply.

  Dear:

  I didn’t ask you if I might write. We had no time for questions. No time for me to even say, “I love you,” though I am sure you know that. I am sure our lips told all that was necessary, though we could not say it formally. And there was so much that could have been said that perhaps was better left unsaid, since I may never be able to return. That is hard to speak of, because it is true, perhaps I have no right at present to say more than I love you. Just this much I’ll tell you. I think I have loved you ever since I first saw you, that day the lady made such a fuss about the mud spattered on her “imported frock.” Our eyes met, and I loved you. I knew I had no right, no future to bring to such as you. But I loved you.

  And I love you still. I had your dear smile to cherish in my heart then; now I have the touch of your precious lips. I shall always love you.

  If I were stationed near home, I would feel that I must wait until you knew me better before I told you that I love you, until your parents knew me, wait until I had something besides my love to offer you. But since, in this strange war-world in which we are living today, as it may be that this is all we can ever have on this earth, I must tell you of my love.

  And I am taking it for granted that you love me, too, for I seemed to read it in your eyes and your lips on mine as we parted. But I want you to feel that this is a sacred thing between us. So if anything should happen to me, and you should find someone else to love, you can know that our love was so pure that you could speak of it without hurting another love.

  I do not want to write these words, but I know they should be written. I want you to be free as air, if anything happens to me.

  I shall not speak of this again, for we must not be sorrowful. If God is willing I shall come back, and then we can plan for the future. But now I am at least glad I have the privilege of telling you that I love you. Later, when I can, I will give you an address that will reach me. I shall be longing to hear from you. Till then, God keep you tenderly.

  Yours,

  John Sargent

  Lisle read the letter over and over until she knew it by heart. She rejoiced in it almost as if it were a sacred thing. It seemed to her that it was the most beautiful love letter that anyone ever wrote. Later it occurred to her with a happy little relief that this was a letter she could show to her mother and father when the time came. A letter to be proud of. A letter of such dignity and sweetness that even the showing of it to her parents could not take away from its intimacy and beauty.

  And the next day Victor came to see her!

  The butler brought the word of his arrival to Mrs. Kingsley, who was in her room making out the menus for the day. The butler understood that Victor was not in good standing with the family, and especially not with Lisle. So instead of going at once to Lisle, for whom Victor had asked, he went to the mother.

  Mrs. Kingsley looked up with a frown and a worry in her eyes.

  “Victor? Oh! Did he ask for me?”

  “No, madam, he asked for Miss Lisle, was she in?”

  The mother considered.

  “All right, I’ll tell her,” she said, and putting down her pencil and pad, rose and went to Lisle’s room.

  “Dear,” she said gently, “Victor is here. He has asked for you. I think perhaps you had better go down and see him and try to be as kind and pleasant to him as you can. That is the way to help answer those prayers you said you were going to be remembering for him.”

  Lisle looked up with a glance that seemed to come back hastily from somewhere abroad with the armed forces, and a capable, weary cloud went over her face, though she tried to brush it away and put on a cheeriness she did not feel about this particular caller.

  “Why, yes, Mother, I’ll try,” she said with a little sigh of annoyance. “But, Mother, suppose you come down, too, and then you will see how quite impossible it is for me to do anything for Victor.”

  “Oh no, dear,” said her mother. “That wouldn’t do at all. It would only make him angry. A young man doesn’t want a mother hanging around when he comes to call on a girl.”

  “But, Mother, that’s just it. I don’t want it to seem like a young man come to call on a girl. Victor knows how I feel about him and all his propositions, and I want him to be reminded of it. Please come down, Mother.”

  “No, d
ear,” said Mrs. Kingsley emphatically, “I really couldn’t. I have committee work to finish before this afternoon. A list to make out and all those ladies to call up. I really haven’t a minute. Run along, dear. You’ll be all right. And remember, this is your opportunity. Perhaps he has come to answer your prayers.”

  Lisle made a little wry face.

  “More like he has come to answer his own prayers, Mother,” she said with a mocking laugh. “But I’ll do my best. Only don’t expect me to stand any more of his insolence.”

  “Now, dear, remember his poor mother, and do try to have a little patience.”

  “Yes, I’ll be remembering his poor mother and how she has spoiled him all these years. It’s her fault largely that Victor is so unbearable. All right, run along to your committees, Mother, and I’ll take this thing over and settle it once for all.”

  “Now don’t be so hard, Lisle dear! Don’t, I beg of you.”

  “Mother I’m not hard, but I’ve got to be true, you know.”

  “Yes, you’ve got to be true, of course,” sighed her mother, “but be sure you are not blinded as to what is truth. You don’t want to say or do anything that you will regret all your life. Remember, there are not so many old, true friends.”

  “Well, he certainly isn’t one,” said Lisle annoyedly. She resolved as she hurried down the stairs that she would show John’s letter to her mother the first opportunity that offered. It really was time her mother understood that there was somebody else she loved, somebody who was real. She had hoped to wait a little until her mother got Victor off her mind, but if Victor had started in on another siege of friendliness, it was time he was settled once and for all, and time her parents understood that her heart was occupied and happy. Only she did so want them to know John, to see him, before she had to tell them. They would be a bit horrified, perhaps, that she had actually fallen in love with someone they didn’t know, hadn’t even seen. And John was so winning in appearance. His blue eyes so trustworthy—the light in them could not fail to win them at once. His wonderful gold hair, and his gorgeous smile! If he were only here for an hour! Mother might admire Victor’s handsome face, but she surely could not fail to see the strength and beautiful trustworthiness of John’s face. She must get him to send her a picture in his uniform!

  He did look so wonderful in his uniform!

  Then Lisle entered the living room, and Victor rose from an attitude of dejection on the couch over in the corner and lifted a hangdog expression to her face. Woebegone! That was it. So he was going to take that attitude, was he? And blame all his troubles on her! It was an old trick of his with which she had no patience.

  But Victor was really dejected! He didn’t attempt to smile or crack any jokes. He just nodded to Lisle as if she were an old rag of a friend to whom he had come as a last resort, and then he dropped back to the couch with his old cap in his hand, continuing to twirl and watch it as he talked, for all the world like his little-boy self when he came to pour out his troubles to his friend.

  But Lisle was not moved by any such manipulations. She merely said good morning briskly and dropped down on a chair halfway across the room from where he sat. This was nothing to her but a business to be got through with as soon as possible, for she had been writing a letter to John when this summons reached her. Of course, she knew that she could not send it yet because she had no address, but it was as if she had been having a pleasant talk with her betrothed, and she hated to be interrupted by something she knew would turn out to be unpleasant.

  But there was something about Victor’s appearance that was different from any attitude he had ever worn before. He seemed almost humble, and utterly dejected. His old arrogance was gone, as if he had been through some terrible experience that had changed his whole view of life, and the way he tossed his cap around and around restlessly was terrible to see. She watched him with a puzzled look. She hadn’t heard about the trouble at the plant. She only knew that there was a large detachment of soldiers guarding the vicinity, but that would be natural if they were making something important for the war, some secret weapon. That was what had been given out to the general public, and as yet no one knew the terrible catastrophe that had happened. It would have to come out soon, but until it did, Victor naturally would have held his head high and gone smiling on his way. Lisle could not make out what was the matter with him.

  “Are you still my friend?” he managed to stumble out presently, in the midst of her attempt to be pleasantly impersonal and talk about the weather and sports, and ask him if he had met any of the soldiers in town. Then he suddenly burst with his pitiful question.

  Lisle looked at him sharply.

  “Friend? Why, yes, your friend, I suppose. Why?”

  “Does that mean you would be my friend enough to do something to help me out of a jam?”

  “Why—I guess so—that is—I couldn’t promise, of course, until I knew what it is you want, what you need.”

  “Yes, you would say that!” sneered the old Victor bitterly.

  “What is it, Victor, what is the matter?”

  “Matter enough!” he said sourly, tossing his heavy lock of black curls off his forehead. “I’m in a heck of a mess, and as far as I can see, you are the only one who can help me out. I wouldn’t have come to you if there had been any other way, because you’ve been so hard on me, and so sort of fanatical and sentimental. But there isn’t anybody who can help me out but you, and if you won’t help me, I might as well go out and drown myself in the river.”

  “Why, Victor! What in the world is the matter? What has happened?”

  “Plenty!” said the boy, basking under her kindly distressed tone. “But there isn’t anything the matter that you can’t help me out of if you really will do it. I knew if I came to you, you would forget you’re mad at me and be ready to help. You always were a good little sport that way whenever I got into a scrape. Why, you see, that little gold digger I’ve been having for a secretary has been caught giving away our plant secrets to the enemy. Besides that, she stole an important part of a secret machine we’re making for the government, and it can’t be found. And she stole the blueprints. Important blueprints that the enemy can use to duplicate our machines. And on top of all that, they think she killed a man as she was trying to get away with it. They’ve searched her room and found the gun the bullet came from hidden in one of her shoes, and they have proof enough to electrocute her. They’ve found she’s gotten in touch with a shortwave radio and has been giving away our plant secrets to the enemy right and left. They’ve got her hard and fast.

  “But that’s not the worst of it. You see, the government men are trying to tie me up to it. They think just because I’ve been kind to her and taken her out socially to help her have a good time here, away from her home and friends, that she and I have been in cahoots on this, and they’re trying to ring me in on it, too, get me in the trial, and get me all tangled up asking questions. Of course, they’d try that with dad, too, if he wasn’t so darned respectable. They know he didn’t do it. And it’s pretty near killing him. It isn’t out in the public eye yet, of course, but it soon will be, and I’ve got to do something about it right away or I’ll have to go to jail, and mighty quick, too. They took Erda yesterday along with a couple of men who planned the whole thing, and she’ll ring me in on it, too, plenty. She hasn’t a bit of conscience about it. So I came to you. I knew you’d be willing to forget old scores and let bygones be bygones and help me out.”

  “But I don’t see how I could help you out in a situation like that. I haven’t any influence with policemen or the government.”

  “Oh yes, you can do it, all righty. You don’t need influence with police or courts. If you’ll just drop past arguments and marry me, nobody will trouble any more about it. They’ll know if you married me, I’m all right. They’ll know you have confidence in me, and that would settle it for most people. And a daughter of old J. D. Kingsley! He has influence, plenty. And he would do all he could to
get me off, if I was your husband. Oh, it’s a cinch. I wouldn’t have any more trouble if you’d marry me right away. You know you and I could go out now and be married and then put it in the evening papers, and everything would be all okey-dokey. Will you do it, Lisle? If you will, I’ll be a model man from now on. I won’t even drink much, just a glass or two now and then when we’re at parties. I won’t ever get tight. And we’ll have all kinds of a grand time. Come on, Lisle, say you’ll do it. It’ll be all right. Your parents won’t care, seeing it’s to save my life and keep me out of jail. You’re a good scout. You’ll marry me, won’t you?”

  Lisle looked at her former playmate, aghast.

  “Victor! How perfectly terrible! I’m awfully sorry for you, but you know I can’t marry you for a reason like that. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, even if it were to save everybody’s life. It wouldn’t be right! And it wouldn’t do a bit of good, either, to get married. The government wouldn’t have any more faith in you because you got married in a time like this, no matter who you married, and they wouldn’t stop arresting you and trying you because you’d gotten married. That’s a silly idea. Getting married is too solemn a business to be rushed into to save your neck when you’re in trouble. No, Victor, I couldn’t possibly marry you, ever. I don’t love you and never will. And you know it wouldn’t do any good anyway.”