The Forged Note Part 71

"Oh, very well, then," she said, and rising, with a few more words, she took her leave.

Jones glanced over the page, and then started. "Excuse me just a moment, Miss," he begged, and read the pages which were neatly written and punctuated. When he had finished, he smiled and said, under his breath: "That is certainly nerve."

Mildred regarded him curiously. He looked at her, and handed the ma.n.u.script across the desk, saying: "Please read it."

She obeyed, and when she was through, said: "It is a nice eulogy," and then her face showed the wonderment because of his expression of a moment ago.

"Yes," he agreed, "it _is_ nice, but take a glance at this," and forthwith drew from the top of the desk, a pamphlet with the picture of an attractive colored girl thereon.

Mildred observed the picture, and then read the article on the other three pages. When she saw the editor's face again, she understood, but she didn't say, in fact, she didn't know what to say. The editor continued:

"These pamphlets are scattered all over town. Can you imagine a person with her appearance and obvious intelligence doing such a thing? And yet, this office is the recipient of many such instances."

The article had been copied from the three pages of the pamphlet he had handed her, and which were scattered all over the town.

CHAPTER FOUR

_The Woman With the Three Moles_

She was now in the creole city. Before her lay the wide street that Sidney Wyeth had followed; but it was lighted by the sun, for she had arrived in the morning, whereas, he had come at night. She traveled with only a handbag to enc.u.mber her, and, therefore, did not take a car, but walked leisurely up the broad highway.

The street, she at once observed, was very wide; it was so wide that the buildings appeared very low that lined the sides. She counted the stories of one building, and found that it was not the wide street alone, for the buildings were not high after all, not nearly so high as any of the towns in which she had been. She wondered why they were not; and, of course, it did not occur to her, that the city was built over water that was only a few inches from the surface, and which, in fact, seeped and stood upon the top whenever it could. Keeping the water below the surface, in short, had been this city's problem ever since its location. And it is no wonder, for, if anyone takes notice, the water of the mighty river (that makes it possible as a port and encircles it largely) is very often above the town. At several times in the history of this city's existence, these waters have become so high, that they threatened for days to spill over, and, therefore, submerge all the city in a few minutes. But our story is not concerned with the possible submerging of the town; we are concerned in following Mildred Latham, as she walked curiously up one side of one of its broad highways.

She wondered, as had Sidney Wyeth--and as perhaps anyone else given to observation would wonder--that it should build some streets so wide, and at the same time make others so narrow that they were not adequate for an alley. The buildings, as she saw them, with few exceptions, were old; only a few had, apparently, been erected in the past ten years; while over most of the sidewalks were sheds.

As she continued her indefinite wandering, she observed many curiosities, not to be seen in other cities. "But, of course," she murmured, "this is the creole city, and is known to be much more historical than the rest of our country."

There are not so many colored people encountered on the streets as in other southern towns; although, viewing its last census of five years before, there should be now not less than one hundred thousand of that race within its limits. She saw many, however, and looked at them curiously. Here and there was one that looked like a creole; while most of them, were the usual kind.

Never had she seen so many cars on one street, as she saw on the four tracks that ran down the middle of this one. They were arranged with a curbing to protect, or keep slim-footed mules out of their way, so they had to avoid the pedestrians only. Many police protected at every intersection; but withal, she was nervous as she hurried across, at the beckon of one who wore the bluest uniform, and a white hat--no, it was a helmet.

She had arrived at Basin court, and did not know that she was within a few doors of the man she loved. She gazed about for a time, and then went on her way. She came, presently, abreast of a man--a colored man--and he was neat looking and intelligent. She paused with some constraint, and said:

"Could you advise me, Mister, where I could secure lodging? I am a stranger, and--I do not know where to go."

He looked at her keenly for a moment. Then his eyes glanced away and down a street that intersected. On either side of that street were houses--small houses that made a specialty of a room to the front, and these rooms contained--but we have not come to that. And then he looked at her again.

His eyes wandered back down that other street, and he thought for a moment. He looked at her again, and then spoke. This girl might be stalling--so many of them did--but still she was intelligent, and that made a difference.

"I could not, Madam, I regret to say, for I do not live on this side. My home is in Tunis, which is across the river. That is why I do not know."

"Oh," she said, and her tone was sorry, "you do not live on this side?"

"No, ma'am. You are a stranger here?" He eyed her keenly again.

"Yes, sir. I have just arrived," and she told him also, that she sold books.

Her tone was pleasant; her words were correct; and she said them in such a way that he forgot his suspicion, and then showed her forthwith much courtesy.

"Indeed," he commented. "I wish I knew a place; but I am not so often on this side, for I am a physician, and my duties keep me mostly over there; but if you had happened to be wishing to stop over there, I could place you." She thought quickly.

Sidney Wyeth was on this side, undoubtedly. She might at any time encounter him. And she didn't know why, since that was what she had hoped for; but she rather feared to encounter him right now. She had no room or place to go, and, as she meditated, she could not see any reason why she should not as soon be on the other side as on this. She liked quietness. So she said:

"I had not decided whether I would stay across the river or here, though, of course, I expected to stay on this side. I would, however, as soon be on the other side, I think."

"In that event, then," said he, "you can accompany me home, for my wife--we are recently married and she is a stranger and would be glad of companionship--has a room, and it is for rent. So, when you have seen it, and in case you are satisfied, you could have it. The charge, I think, furnished, is seven dollars a month."

"That will be nice," she said, and was beside him. "I am sure I shall be satisfied."

"Thank you," said he, "I am going over now, so if you are agreeable, we will catch a ferry forthwith."

They now walked back down the broad highway, at the end of which could be seen the stacks of many steamers. He pointed out, very kindly, sights of interest and explained them.

"Now, here," he said, "is a store. The family who own it are rich, as rich as any in the city, and it is said they are part Negro; though, of course, they do not admit it. The city, you will find, is a historical old place in many instances." And as they walked down the broad highway, he told her a great deal that was so interesting, that it made the distance which had seemed a long way an hour before, appear real short.

They went up to the river, and boarded a ferry.

It was a nice ride to the other sh.o.r.e. Once in the middle of the river, which was very wide at this point, the creole city rose and stood outlined in all its splendor. The waters near either sh.o.r.e were decorated with many river steamers, and as many, if not more, ocean liners. Great docks, grim and dark, opened their roller doors along the banks; while the steamers before them swung great loads of freight in their cellars.

"Miss Latham," said the doctor, when they had arrived at the house, "this is my wife, Mrs. Winnie Jacques."

They greeted each other, and murmured many words, and, when the introduction was over, Mrs. Jacques turned and asked Mildred to follow her. As she did so, upon her neck, which rose above the loose kimono she wore, was a mole; to the right of it another. Almost midway between the two, but an inch below, was another. And now Mildred Latham gave a start, then she swallowed hard. _Where had she seen the moles before_--the three moles? Only one person in the world, she was sure, possessed them. She followed the other to a room, and that night she didn't sleep.

The next morning she kissed the other, before she left, but Mrs. Jacques didn't know why. But she watched her strangely, as she walked toward the ferry.

CHAPTER FIVE

"_h.e.l.lo, Brown Skin!_"

He came abreast of a depot; it was new, with an imposing front, over which was inscribed TERMINAL STATION in arched letters. It seemed quite a long way back to the colored waiting room, and the station was very narrow. It ran back several hundred feet, where four or five tracks received the incoming and outgoing human traffic. The station, like the one he had come into a short while ago, was filled with men and women, obviously idlers. He lingered only a few minutes, when curiosity led him further. He left the station from the side entrance, and found himself upon a very narrow street. He paused, and as he did so, strains of ragtime music came to his ears. He was curious to see where it came from, and to hear it closer. He crossed the street, and found that it came from a place--a cabaret--but for white people only. He turned away and went down the street, where something odd caught his attention.

He stood where the walks intersected, and gazed to his left. Yes, it was a _feature_. On either side of the street stood a row of one-story houses. Lights were bright, as bright as day, on either side, which fact filled the narrow street with light also. He pa.s.sed down one side; and there were mult.i.tudes of men sauntering, as he was--but there were no women, excepting in the one-story houses. They stood behind open doors, some of them, while others sat in chairs before a grate fire; but one and all, he noted, were thinly dressed and smiled on everybody--but himself (for, you see, they were white women)--with amorous eyes.

"Come here dearie," said one--and many others said the same. "I have something to tell you." "Indeed," he conjectured, "but secrets appear to be the fashion here."

He walked to the end of that block, and where that street intersected with another. And before him, on eight different sides, was a myriad of the same. Women, thinly clad--and it, you understand, was the month of January....

It was a sight to be indulged; a pastime that was diverting, to say the least. And, since so very many others--men--were seeing it, why then not he?

He saw it--at least a large part of it.