Part 18 (1/2)

”How interesting a company we three can make in this undertaking,” cried Edith, with enthusiasm. ”Papa, will you permit me to join them?”

”If Mr. Winthrope is your guide, you may,” he answered, now interested himself.

”When shall we begin our search?” asked Edith, eagerly looking at John, and beaming one of her sweetest smiles on him.

”Whenever Mr. Jarney gives me leave of absence--or, better, I can do it before or after hours. How will that do?”

”Capital!” cried Edith. ”Papa, that will be fine. You can trust me with Mr. Winthrope?”

”Oh, of course,” he answered.

”Good, papa, dear!” she exclaimed. ”Now, Star--Miss Barton, we will go home. When shall we begin?”

”When I notify you,” replied John, rising to bid the ladies good day.

The two young ladies departed. To John, it was like the going of two sunbeams that had crossed his lonely pathway, to s.h.i.+ne for a moment, then disappear, with the promise of returning on a fairer day to come.

CHAPTER XI.

THE AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT.

Mike Barton, the rounder, knocked off from his lecherous avocation the afternoon referred to in the previous chapter, as was his custom every day at that time, and wandered aimlessly through the throngs of pedestrians in the main thoroughfares of the city. He was submerged in an elegant overcoat of black that shut him up from head to foot, so that only his feet stuck out below, and his head half protruded above; for the day was in its nastiest mood. A new derby hat sat c.o.c.ked to one side of his head, and his hair was in imitation of the devotees of the game of football.

With his hands poked deeply into his side coat pockets, he shambled along, smoking a cigarette, that, at times, sent up a cloud, like a halo of fog, around his head. He was careless, unconcerned, and impudently independent in his gait. He pushed his way through the crowds with such an abandon of gentility that the curious stared at him, and gave a shrug of their shoulders, as much as to say, ”There goes a bad one.” He would stop at times, when a crowd had formed to gaze at some new attraction in a window; then, with a toss of his head, would push on, maybe shouldering a meek little woman out of the way; or sidling up to an unsophisticated girl with a licentious stare, or a suggestive smile; or he would drop into a saloon, or billiard hall, or tobacco stand to see his fellow touts; and then go on, ever aimless in his peregrinations.

After lighting a fresh cigarette, he took up a position on the steps at the main entrance to the Park building; looking into the faces of the pa.s.sers-by, or doing nothing but kill time; when his attention was arrested by a tall, sleek gentleman in a plug hat and heavy overcoat, and who was slinging a gold-headed cane, crossing Smithfleld street, with a lady on his arm.

”By the G.o.ds!” he exclaimed, so loudly that those standing by gazed at him in wonderment. The cause of his exclamation was the lady and gentleman in question, crossing the street.

The tall gentleman was talking animatedly, and the lady was smiling and laughing in return, as if what he said gave her great merriment. As they pa.s.sed the corner, going down Fifth, Mike stepped to the pavement, and followed. He kept a few paces in the rear, but always in sight of the swiftly moving pair.

The plug hat loomed above the heads of other people, and the lady was conspicuous by her elegant costume. As they walked on, he followed, ever in view of the high hat. They turned up Wood, he followed. They crossed Wood and went down Sixth street, he followed. They came to Liberty and went down Sixth avenue, he followed. They went out on the Federal street bridge, he followed. They stopped at the center span, he stopped. They looked down the river, he took up a position behind an iron girder of the bridge, and peeped around at them.

The wind was blowing briskly, skudding snow-like clouds across the sky, and white caps danced upon the river. Smoke from factory chimney, or train, or boat, lay in horizontal rolls of grayish blackness, like tubular pillars floating in the air on the breast of the wind. They looked down the Alleghany, facing the pelting breezes--through the maze of craft; through the uplifted arms of many bridges, rearing themselves like spider-lines criss-crossing the vista of the river; through the distance over black buildings, sheds and shanties, and everything, they looked, over and above to the bald bluffs of Was.h.i.+ngton Heights, where clung the homes of the middle cla.s.s, like crows' nests in aerie oaks.

Then down beneath that hill of rock, staggering under its weight of poverty, they looked--she seeing, as if in a vision, the depressing hovels of the very poor; and a tear came to her eyes. But Mr. Jarney did not see those tears. He was intent only in pa.s.sing away a short s.p.a.ce of time with Star, as a gratifying diversion in his daily course of life.

The wind brushed by her skirts with great vehemence, and blew her hair about her face in straggling strands of plaits. She placed one elbow upon the iron railing, and rested her chin in her hand, and looked down at the dancing water. Her mild blue eyes were still moistened, and she wondered how deep and cold the water below her was, and what there was beneath its surface. Her lips were blue from the chaffing wind, her teeth chattered from the chill, and her cheeks paled before the scurrying blasts.

”I wonder if there is life down there in that dirty yellow water,” she said, meditatively.

”There used to be many fish in there, at least there was when I was a boy,” he answered, leaning over the railing and looking downward; ”but the defilement of the water by the mills and mines has killed every bit of life, almost.”

”Nothing escapes the hand of men, it seems, in their search for wealth,”

she mused.

”Nothing--you have been crying,” he said, turning his eyes upon her.

”No; it is the wind,” she answered.

”Ah, the wind; it is raw today,” he returned. ”Let us turn our backs and go to the other side of the bridge.”