In And Out Part 34

"Something I have to say which will interest you very much! This trifling family affair of yours isn't nearly so serious as you fancy. In a day or two or a week or two it will all blow over--and if it doesn't you may thank your lucky stars to be rid of a woman so infernally unreasonable," said Anthony. "But I'm hanged if I'll permit you to sacrifice that girl!"

"Ho!" said Johnson Boller derisively. "How are you going to stop it?"

"In just this way!" Anthony continued suavely. "You breathe just one word of the truth, Johnson, and _I_ will tell a story which involves _you_ and, while there will not be a word of truth in it, it will get over in great shape, because everybody knows that I'm a man whose word is as good as his bond. I'll tell such a story about you as will raise the very hair on your head and have an infuriated mob after you before the papers have been on the street for twenty minutes! Do you understand?

"The mysterious woman will be an innocent country girl, I think, who came here to make a living and lift the mortgage on the old farm, and whom you approached on the street and finally dazzled with a few lobster palaces. She'll be beautiful and virtuous, Johnson, and I think she'll tell me, in tears, how you fed her the first c.o.c.ktail she ever tasted!

She'll----"

"Wait!" Johnson Boller said hoa.r.s.ely.

"That is the merest outline of the story I shall tell, and when I've had time to work out the details, I'll guarantee that Beatrice will never even consent to live in the same city with you--even if you bring sworn proofs of the story's falsity! I'll represent you to be a thing abhorred by all half-way decent men and even shunned by self-respecting dogs!

Don't think I'm bluffing about it, either, Johnson! I mean to protect Mary Dalton!"

There is a vast difference between the coa.r.s.e, rough character, however bl.u.s.teringly impressive he may be, and the truly strong one. Frequently, the one is mistaken for the other, but under the first real stress the truth comes out.

Johnson Boller for example, looking into his friend's coldly shining eye, did not draw himself up and freeze Anthony with his conscious virtue. He did puff out his cheeks defiantly, to be sure, and mutter incoherently, but that lasted for only a few seconds.

Then the eye won and Johnson Boller, dropping into his chair again, likewise dropped his head into his hands and groaned queerly.

Anthony, looking contempt at him, fancied that he wept.

Anthony sneered and smiled.

CHAPTER XIII

In the Box

Now, for a little, let us watch the movements of the intelligent servant, Wilkins.

Getting the trunk to the street was no trouble at all. The girl weighed, perhaps, one hundred and twenty pounds, and the trunk itself another fifteen or twenty, and handling that amount of weight was a mere joke to Wilkins. Therefore, he stood in the side street beside the Lasande, having carefully deposited his burden, and looked about for a taxi--and presently one of these bandit vehicles rolled up to the curb and the hard-faced little man behind the wheel barked:

"Taxicab?"

"Yes," said Wilkins. "I wish----"

"Stick the box up front!" snapped the driver. "I kin give you a hand."

"I'm taking the box in back with me," said Wilkins.

"Nothing doing!" said the driver. "What d'ye think that paint's made of--steel?"

It was entirely possible that Mary was stifling by this time. Wilkins used his wits as he fumbled in his pockets and asked:

"Your cab, old chap?"

"Company's!"

"Put this five-dollar bill into your pocket and give me a hand setting the box in the back," said Wilkins. "It's packed with delicate stuff, and the master instructed me particular to keep a hand on it."

So, while the hard-faced one smiled brightly and, the bill in his pocket, reflected that a murder must have been committed but that it was none of his business in any case, Anthony's wardrobe trunk was stood erect and the taxicab rolled off swiftly, headed for the palatial home of Theodore Dalton.

A block or two and, in the most uninterested way, Wilkins managed to open the lid for an inch or more, and in the s.p.a.ce appeared a little pink nose and, presently, as the nose withdrew, a brilliant blue eye.

"Can you open it a little more?" asked Mary.

Wilkins opened it a little more.

"I trust you're quite comfortable, miss?" he asked politely.

"Lovely!" said Mary. "Did any one--seem to notice when we left?"

"Not a soul, miss."

Mary, cramped though she might be, sighed vast relief.

"Tell Mr. Fry, when you get back, that I'll send for the things I left behind," she said softly.

"Yes, miss."

"And Wilkins, when you get to the house," said Mary, "be absolutely sure that you take me to Felice's room!"

"I understand," purred Wilkins, just above the rumble of traffic.

Here Mary's whole face almost appeared.

"I want you to be very sure about that indeed!" she urged. "Never mind what the other servants say or where they want you to leave the trunk.

You insist that it is for Felice, and has to be delivered to her personally; and if you have a chance to give her some sort of sign to accompany you to the room, do it. I think she'll understand."

"Yes, miss," Wilkins agreed.

"And above and beyond all things, keep your face perfectly expressionless when you meet Bates, Wilkins. Bates is our butler, you know, and he's the most inquisitive creature in the world. Is this trunk marked?"

"Only with Mr. Fry's initials, miss--'A. F.'"

Mary frowned up at him through the crack.

"That'll have to be explained too," she sighed. "Well--let's see. Do you think of anything plausible, Wilkins?"

The perfect treasure glanced at the driver, who was quite intent on his own affairs and apparently not listening--and Wilkins smiled quite complacently.

"If I might make so bold as to suggest it, miss," he said, "why not say that the trunk comes from--well, the cousin of this Felice, perhaps? Has she a female cousin?"

"n.o.body knows it if she hasn't."