Part 15 (1/2)

”We have been fairly living on the long distance telephone trying to reach you. What on earth was the trouble? Edith received Fannie's telegram a minute after you called her up and when she tried to reach you--well, she couldn't, that's all....”

”There was something the matter with the connection ... it's been off for several days ...” he replied.

”Of course we could have telegraphed but we didn't want to alarm you,” I went on, meeting his own brave lie with another. ”As a matter of fact I think we all were more scared than hurt. Fannie had had a cold while we were still in Chicago--that's a trying climate in the winter. Then when we reached Cleveland, there wasn't much of an improvement in the matter of weather and I felt a bit guilty in having urged her to go with us.” I toyed with, the celery and wiped off imaginary soot.

”Were you in Cleveland?”

I looked up at him in mild surprise.

”Why, of course. It was at my invitation that Fannie accompanied us. She was bored to death in Chicago ... it must be deadly monotonous--this same routine day after day ... the same faces and nothing new to talk about.... You know--you know if you were my husband I shouldn't let you run away on hunting trips and leave me behind.... I don't think you men realize how stupid it becomes with no change of menu--as it were....”

I reproved him with a smile. For the first time his eyes sent back a glint of warmth.

”How long have you known Fannie? It's odd that I've never--had the pleasure of meeting you before.” (The pleasure was an after-thought.)

”O ... I've known Fannie for ... let me see ... nearly three years....”

(I made a mental note of this for ”Fannie's” benefit.) ”We met when Will played Chicago two seasons since. We took quite a fancy to each other, and last winter when she came to New York we went about together and became quite good friends.... I presume you were away on one of your hunting trips last winter ... naughty sir ... that's the reason I didn't meet you.... This trip I brought Boy to Chicago.... You haven't seen my young son, have you? You must make his acquaintance to-morrow. We're most awfully vain about him ... think he's the only boy in the world. I suppose you feel that way about your little girls ... they _are_ beauties. They've got your eyes, though they have inherited Fannie's regular features....”

Would my tongue never stop wagging? What manner of woman had I suddenly become? I did not recognize myself. Was it a case of self-hypnosis and was I really feeling the interest and friendliness I pretended? He was not precisely an Adonis; there was something rough, almost uncouth, about him in spite of the veneer his money had brought. But there was a kindliness, a wholesouledness that made itself felt. Under any other conditions I should have liked him.... I saw him look at his watch.

”What time is it?... The performance will soon be over and Mr. Hartley will wonder where I am.... Wouldn't he be surprised to walk in here and see me dining with a strange man?... I hope you're not afraid of getting yourself talked about....”

”No, I guess not,” he laughed back. I was silent for a time, while I wrestled with the breast of a squab. I felt his eyes upon me. When I looked at him I saw that he was revolving something in his mind, and I sensed the subject. I gave him time to think it over. After a while I leaned back in my chair.

”I'm sorry to confess it, but I'm beginning to feel a bit tired,” I sighed. ”Even your genial presence will not keep my eyes open much longer.... Edith I'm sure is feeling the strain, too. Well, we'll all sleep better to-night--after our worry. 'All's well that ends well'--and that reminds me--my husband and I were admiring a set of Shakespeare you have in your library.”

”Um--yes; I remember it. I bought it for the binding. Don't believe I ever saw the inside of it....” He freshened my gla.s.s of wine.

”You're not much of a drinker, are you?”

”Haven't got brains enough to stand it,” I answered flippantly.

He laughed; it had a true ring to it.

The game was in my hands.

”I guess you mean you've got brains enough to _with_stand it.”

Would the dinner never come to an end? I thought. My body seemed to grow old with the minutes. At last the waiter cleared the table. When he had gone for a liqueur, Mr. F. took some letters from his pocket. From the packet he selected a piece of printed matter. He laid it face down upon the table while he replaced the letters. Then he looked at me, drumming with his fingers over the spot where the clipping lay. The waiter returned. Mr. F. drained the cognac gla.s.s and called for another. While it was being brought he folded his arms upon the table and leaned toward me.

”I wonder whether I'd better show you something....”

I a.s.sumed the same att.i.tude; it was conducive to confidence.

”Show me what?”

His drumming became louder.

”No, I guess I won't!” ...

”Now, I call that unkind--to pique my curiosity and leave me suspended in mid-air.”