Mr. Achilles Part 19

And little Betty Harris, leaning against the great shoulder beside her, nodded in the car, and dreamed little dreams and looked about her hazily.

The conductor came and stood in front of them with extended hand, and rang the fares, and cast an indifferent, kindly glance at the Greek and his child travelling by night.... He did not guess the "scoop" that his two little nickels rang out. The child with roughened hair and clumsy, hanging shoes, was nothing to him--nor to the policeman that boarded the car at the next corner and ran his eye down its empty length to the Greek, sitting erect--with the child sleeping beside him--her dark, tousled head against his arm.

The conductor came again, and touched Achilles on the shoulder and bent to him. "You change here," he said. He was pointing to a car across the square--"You take that," he said. "You understand?" He shouted a little--because the man was a foreigner--and dark--but his tone was friendly. And Achilles got to his feet, guiding the sleepy child down the rib-floored car that shook beneath them.... And the conductor and policeman watched the two figures vanish through the door--and smiled to each other--a friendly smile at foreign folks--who travel in strange ways--and go among us with eager, intent faces fixed on some shining goal we cannot see... with the patience of the centuries leaning down to them, and watching them.

x.x.xVI

THE TELEPHONE AGAIN

In the middle of the square, Achilles stopped--a lighted sign had caught his eye. He hurried the child across the blur of tracks to the sign, and opened a door softly. A sleepy exchange-girl looked up and waited while Achilles's dark fingers searched the page and turned to her--"Main--four-four-seven--"

She drawled sleepily after him--"Go in there--number four."

Achilles, with the child's hand in his, entered the booth and closed the door. Little noises clicked about them--queer meanings whispered--and waited--and moved off--the whole night-life of the great city stirred in the little cage.... "Go ahead--four!" called the girl lazily.

Achilles lifted the black tube. The child beside him pressed close, her eyes fixed on the tube. Achilles's words ran swift on the wire, and her eager face held them--other words came back--sharp--swift. And the child heard them crackle, and leap, and break and crackle again in the misty depths--and she touched Achilles's arm softly--"They must not hurt Mrs.

Seabury--?" she said. "You tell them not to hurt Mrs. Seabury!"

Achilles's hand pressed her shoulder gently. "Yes--I tell--they know."

It was a swift aside--and his voice had taken up the tale--"That woman--you not take that woman.... You hear? Yes--she good woman!"

"Tell them to look in the cellar!" said Betty. She had pressed closer, on tiptoe. "There is a hole there--under a barrel--and a barrel in the garden. You tell them--"

His eye dropped to her. "In cellar? You say that?"

"Yes--yes--" Her hands were clasped. "They took me there! You tell them!"

Achilles's eye smiled. "Hallo--_you look in cellar_!... What you say?--no--I don't see it. But you look in cellar--yes! They make tunnel--yes!" He hung up the receiver and took her hand. "Now we go home," he said.

They pa.s.sed swiftly out, dropping payment--into a sleepy, unseeing palm--and crossing the square to the car that should carry them home.

There were no delays now--only swift-running wheels... a few jolts and stops--and they were out again, beneath the stars, hurrying along the great breakwater of the lake--hurrying home.... The big, red-brown house thrust itself up--its gables reaching to thin blackness--and, suddenly, as they looked, it was touched lightly, as with a great finger, and the dawn glowed mistily up the walls.

They crossed swiftly and mounted the steps, between the lions, the child's feet stumbling a little as they went, but Achilles's hand held fast and his touch on the bell summoned hurrying feet... there was a fumbling at the chains--a swift, cautious creak, and the door swung back. "Who is it?" said a voice that peered out. The dawn touched his face grotesquely.

"It's me!" said the child. "It's Betty Harris, Conner."

The man's face fell back. Then he darted forward and glared at the child--through the mysterious, dawning light--on the dark, tender face and the little lip that trembled--looking up--"My G.o.d!" he said. He had darted from them.

The door was open wide and the two glided in silently, and stood in the emptiness. Achilles led the child to a great divan across the hall and placed her beside him--her little feet were crossed in the rough shoes and her hands hung listless.

Behind a velvet curtain, the butler's voice called frantic words--a telephone bell rang sharply and whirred and rang a long fierce call and the butler's voice took it up and flung it back--"Yes, sir. She's here! Yes, sir--that's what I said--she's a-settin' here, sir--on the sofa--with the furriner--yes, sir!" He put his head around the velvet curtain. "Will you speak to your father, Miss?"

His awe-struck hand held the receiver and he helped the strange, little figure to its seat in front of the 'phone. She put the tube to her lips.

"Hallo, Daddy. Yes, it's Betty.... Mr. Achilles brought me, father....

Yes--yes--your little Betty--yes--and I'm all ri-i-ght...." The receiver dropped from her fingers. She had buried her face in her arms and was sobbing softly.

x.x.xVII

THE BIG BED

Achilles sprang forward. "She's all right, Mr. Harris--all right!" His hand dropped to the trembling shoulder and rested there, as his quiet voice repeated the words. He bent forward and lifted the child in his arms and moved away with her. But before he had traversed the long hall, the little head had fallen forward on his shoulder and the child slept.

Behind the velvet curtain, the voice of Conner wrestled faintly with the telephone and all about them great lights glowed on the walls; they lighted the great staircase that swept mistily up, and the figure of Achilles mounting slowly in the stately, lonely house, the child in his arms. His hand steadied the sleeping head with careful touch, against his shoulder.... They were not jolting now, in heavy cars, through the traffic streets--or wandering on the plain.... Little Betty Harris had come home.

Above them at the top of the long stairs, a grey figure appeared, and paused a moment and looked down. Then Miss Stone descended swiftly, her hands outstretched--they did not touch the sleeping child, but hovered above her with a look--half pain--half joy.

Achilles smiled to her--"She come home," he whispered.

She turned with quick breath and they mounted the stairs--the child still asleep... through the long corridor--to the princess's room beyond--with its soft lights--and great, silken hangings and canopied bed, open for the night--waiting for Betty Harris.

Achilles bent and laid her down, with lightest touch, and straightened himself. "We let her sleep," he said gently. "She--very tired."

They stood looking down--at the brown face and the little, tired lip and sleeping lids.... Their eyes met, and they smiled.... They knew--these two, out of all the world--they knew what it meant--that the child was safe.

And out in the glowing dawn, the great car thundered home, and Betty Harris's mother looked out with swift eyes.

"See, Phil--the sun is up!" She reached out her hand.

"Sit still, Louie--don't tremble so--" he said gently. "She is safe now--They have brought her home. She's there, you know, asleep." He spoke slowly--as if to a child.... He was gathering up the morning in his heart--this big, harsh, master of men--his little girl was safe--and a common Greek--a man out of the streets--peddling bananas and calling up and down--had made his life worth living. His big, tense mind gripped the fact--and held it. Something seemed speaking to him--out of the east, over there, past the rushing car.... A common Greek.... He had flung his wealth and hammered hard--but somehow _this_ man had loved her--_his_ little girl!

"Phil--?" she said softly.

"Yes, dear?"

"Are we almost home?"

He looked out. "Half an hour yet--sit still, Louie--!" He held her hand close. "Sit still!" he said--and the miles slipped past.

"She is there--Phil! Yes? They wouldn't lie to me. All these weeks!"

she said softly. "I don't think I could bear it much longer, Phil!" The tears were on her cheeks, raining down and he put his rough face against her, adrift in a new world.

And over the great lake the sun burst out, on a flashing car--and the door flung wide to Betty Harris's mother, flying with swift, sure foot up the great, stone steps.... "This way, ma'am--she's in here--her own room--this way, ma'am."

She was kneeling by the great canopied bed, her head bent very low. The brown face trembled a breath... the child put up a hand in her dream, "Mother-dear!" she said--and dreamed on....

THE END