The Deaves Affair Part 24

"No, he didn't!"

Mrs. Deaves' face fell. The black eyes began to snap. Another storm portended. "You promised me----" she began.

"But you see we were right," interrupted her husband. "It was a bluff.

There's nothing in the paper."

"You don't know it's a bluff!" she cried. "Perhaps they were too late for the paper. It will be in to-morrow. You have got to send the money at once as you promised!"

But George Deaves' momentary relief had put a little backbone into him.

"I still think it a bluff!" he said doggedly. "I'm willing to take a chance."

The storm broke. "Oh, you're willing, are you? How about me? How about me? Here you sit all day. What do you know about how people talk? I have to go about. I have to see people smile when they think I'm not looking and whisper behind their hands. Do you think I don't know what they're saying? Oh, I know! 'That's Mrs. George Deaves, my dear. Wife of the son of the notorious miser. You've heard how he squabbles in the street with newsboys and fruit vendors over pennies!'

Well, I've had enough of it! Enough, I say! I won't stand it!"

In the full course of her tirade she happened to look at Evan. Evan's suspicion had become almost a certainty. His eyes were bent steadily upon her. He was not smiling, but there was an ironical lift to the corners of his mouth.

She pulled herself up. "Well, if there's anything published to-morrow you know what to expect," she said, and swept out of the room.

Evan glanced at father and son. Nothing showed in their faces but simple relief at her going. Evan marvelled at their blindness. He had yet to learn that habitually suspicious people never see what goes on under their noses.

Evan had plenty of food for thought. An extraordinary situation was suggested; one in which it behooved him to move with exceeding caution.

For the moment his best plan appeared to be to continue to keep the old man out of trouble, while he watched and waited and found proof of what he was already morally sure.

CHAPTER XI

THE STEAMBOAT _ERNESTINA_

On a shining morning when the Northeast wind had swept the sky as clean as a Dutch kitchen, Evan was on his way to work, trying to make out to himself with but poor success that all was right with him and with the world. As a matter of fact the loveliness of the morning only put a keener edge on his dissatisfaction. He could not but remember other lovely mornings when the heart had been light in his breast.

Every pretty woman that he met put him in a rage. "All alike! All alike!" he said to himself. "G.o.d help the man that takes them at face value! Well, they'll never get their hooks in me again! I know them now!" It did not occur to him that there was rather an inconsistency in raging at something so perfectly unimportant; nor did he enquire too closely into the motives that led him to search ceaselessly among the feminine pa.s.sers-by and to turn his head to look down every side street. His search for a certain red-haired individual of the despised s.e.x had become involuntary.

At Thirteenth street he suddenly perceived Anway coming towards him down the avenue, and his heart bounded. Never was a man gladder to stumble on his rival. Luckily Evan saw him first. Hastily turning his back, he stared in a shop window until he judged the other had pa.s.sed behind him. Then he took up the trail, forgetting his job, and indeed everything else save that Anway must possess the clue to Corinna's whereabouts.

He was led to the corner of Broadway and Twenty-third street, where Anway stopped, evidently to wait for an eastbound car. This was a little awkward, for the cars bound in that direction were but spa.r.s.ely filled at this hour. Evan bought a newspaper. Anyway boarded a cross-town car and sat down inside. Evan swung himself on as the car got in motion, and remained out on the back platform, using his paper as a screen.

As the car progressed to the far East side it gradually emptied until only Anway and Evan remained on board. Evan became rather nervous.

"Well, if he spots me I'll follow him anyhow," he said. "What on earth is he doing on this ragged edge of the town?"

At the end of the line Anway got off the front end of the car without having discovered Evan, and headed down the water-front street to the South. A number of groups of people, having the gala look of those bound on an excursion, were going the same way; and Evan concealed himself among them.

On the river side the new city piers stretched out into the water. Not having been leased yet, all kinds of craft were tied there; ca.n.a.l-boats, lighters, schooners, launches. All the people, including Anway, were heading towards a pier where a queer little old-fashioned steamboat was lying. She had a tall, thin smoke-stack and immense paddle-boxes. She looked like one of those insects with a tiny body and a wholly disproportionate outfit of legs, antennas, etc., spreading around. Her name was painted in fancy letters on the paddle-boxes: _Ernestlna_.

From the rear Evan saw Anway pa.s.s on board. He wondered what the elegant Anway had in common with all the poor and humble people who were bound on the excursion. Many of them obviously did not even possess any Sunday clothes to put on for the trip. There is, surely, no greater degree of poverty. Children were very largely in the majority, pale, great-eyed, little spindle-shanks. All had red tickets in their hands. If, as it seemed, this was a charitable excursion, Anway must be one of those in charge.

As he drew closer Evan saw that the tickets were being collected by a man at the sh.o.r.e end of the gangway. Here was a proper source of information. This man had the pale and earnest look of the professional philanthropist, a worthy soul, some half a dozen years older than Evan, with a wife and four children undoubtedly. Evan took up a place near him and watched the procession wending aboard with brightening faces.

"You couldn't have a better day for the trip," he hazarded.

The ticket-taker responded amiably: "Great, isn't it? We'll bring 'em back with rosy cheeks."

"Is this the outfit Anway told me about?" asked Evan, feeling his way.

"Yes, the Ozone a.s.sociation trips. Are you a friend of Anway's? He's just gone aboard."

"He told me so much about it I thought I'd stroll down and take a look."

"Go aboard if you'd like to. We won't be leaving for ten minutes yet."

Evan desired a little further information before trusting himself aboard. "You must need quite a crowd of helpers to look after the kids."

"Miss Playfair takes care of that for me. She's a host in herself."

All the blood seemed to leave Evan's heart for a moment, and then came surging back until it seemed as if that much-tried organ would burst.

He heard his informant saying:

"But if you know Anway, no doubt you're acquainted with Miss Playfair?"

"I've met her," said Evan, carefully schooling his voice.

"A wonderful little woman!"

"Quite so," said Evan dryly. "Look here," he went on, "I'd like to go with you to-day if I wouldn't be in the way. I mean, work my pa.s.sage, of course; help take care of the kids, or amuse them, or feed them, or whatever may be necessary. My name's Evan Weir."

The other man looked Evan over and was pleased with what he saw.

"I'd be delighted to have you," he said. "We can always use more help.

My name's Denton."

"Well, then, give me a job," said Evan.

"First of all, take my place for a moment," said Denton. "The ice-cream hasn't come. I must go and telephone."

"Sure thing!"

"You needn't be too strict about tickets," Denton added in an undertone. "I mean in respect to women and children. The main thing is to keep the bad and healthy little boys off."

"I get you," said Evan.

Denton hurried away. Evan took his place and the procession pa.s.sed before him deprecatingly presenting its squares of red pasteboard. At first Evan scarcely took note of them, he was so busy with his private exultation. He had found her! And once they got away from the pier he would have her all day on the boat where she couldn't escape him. His luck had changed. For the present he kept his back turned to the _Ernestina_ that he might not be unduly conspicuous to anyone happening to glance out of the cabin windows.

He was recalled to the business in hand by a plea: "Say, Mister! Let me and me brutter go, will yeh please? We had our tickets all right, but a big lad pasted us and took 'em offen us."

Evan looked down into a little angel face and clear shining eyes. The "brutter" waited warily in the background. Evan knew boys, and had no doubt but that this was a pair of incorrigibles, but he couldn't refuse anybody just then.

"What's your name, boy?"