CHAPTER XXXII
THE NIGHT BEFORE
"It's all up to Jones now," kept running through Brewster's brain as hedrove off to keep his appointment with Peggy Gray. "The million isgone--all gone. I'm as poor as Job's turkey. It's up to Jones, but Idon't see how he can decide against me. He insisted on making a pauperof me and he can't have the heart to throw me down now. But, what if heshould take it into his head to be ugly! I wonder if I could break thewill--I wonder if I could beat him out in court."
Peggy was waiting for him. Her cheeks were flushed as with a fever. Shehad caught from him the mad excitement of the occasion.
"Come, Peggy," he exclaimed, eagerly. "This is our last holiday--let'sbe merry. We can forget it to-morrow, if you like, when we begin allover again, but maybe it will be worth remembering." He assisted her tothe seat and then leaped up beside her. "We're off!" he cried, hisvoice quivering.
"It is absolute madness, dear," she said, but her eyes were sparklingwith the joy of recklessness. Away went the trap and the two lighthearts. Mrs. Gray turned from a window in the house with tears in hereyes. To her troubled mind they were driving off into utter darkness.
"The queerest looking man came to the house to see you this afternoon,Monty," said Peggy. "He wore a beard and he made me think of one ofRemington's cowboys."
"What was his name?"
"He told the maid it did not matter. I saw him as he walked away and helooked very much a man. He said he would come to-morrow if he did notfind you down town to-night. Don't you recognize him from thedescription?"
"Not at all. Can't imagine who he is."
"Monty," she said, after a moment's painful reflection, "he--hecouldn't have been a--"
"I know what you mean. An officer sent up to attach my belongings orsomething of the sort. No, dearest; I give you my word of honor I donot owe a dollar in the world." Then he recalled his peculiarindebtedness to Bragdon and Gardner. "Except one or two very smallpersonal obligations," he added, hastily. "Don't worry about it, dear,we are out for a good time and we must make the most of it. First, wedrive through the Park, then we dine at Sherry's."
"But we must dress for that, dear," she cried. "And the chaperon?"
He turned very red when she spoke of dressing. "I'm ashamed to confessit, Peggy, but I have no other clothes than these I'm wearing now.Don't look so hurt, dear--I'm going to leave an order for new eveningclothes to-morrow--if I have the time. And about the chaperon. Peoplewon't be talking before to-morrow and by that time--"
"No, Monty, Sherry's is out of the question. We can't go there," shesaid, decisively.
"Oh, Peggy! That spoils everything," he cried, in deep disappointment.
"It isn't fair to me, Monty. Everybody would know us, and every tonguewould wag. They would say, 'There are Monty Brewster and Margaret Gray.Spending his last few dollars on her.' You wouldn't have them thinkthat?"
He saw the justice in her protest. "A quiet little dinner in some outof the way place would be joyous," she added, persuasively.
"You're right, Peggy, you're always right. You see, I'm so used tospending money by the handful that I don't know how to do it any otherway. I believe I'll let you carry the pocketbook after to-morrow. Letme think; I knew a nice little restaurant down town. We'll go there andthen to the theater. Dan DeMille and his wife are to be in my box andwe're all going up to Pettingill's studio afterward. I'm to give the'Little Sons' a farewell supper. If my calculations don't go wrong,that will be the end of the jaunt and we'll go home happy."
At eleven o'clock Pettingill's studio opened its doors to the "LittleSons" and their guests, and the last "Dutch lunch" was soon under way.Brewster had paid for it early in the evening and when he sat down atthe head of the table there was not a penny in his pockets. A year ago,at the same hour, he and the "Little Sons" were having a birthdayfeast. A million dollars came to him on that night. To-night he waspoorer by far than on the other occasion, but he expected a little gifton the new anniversary.
Around the board, besides the nine "Little Sons," sat six guests, amongthem the DeMilles, Peggy Gray and Mary Valentine. "Nopper" Harrison wasthe only absent "Little Son" and his health was proposed by Brewsteralmost before the echoes of the toast to the bride and groom died away.
Interruption came earlier on this occasion than it did that night ayear ago. Ellis did not deliver his message to Brewster until threeo'clock in the morning, but the A.D.T. boy who rang the bell atPettingill's a year later handed him a telegram before twelve o'clock.
"Congratulations are coming in, old man," said DeMille, as Monty lookedfearfully at the little envelope the boy had given him.
"Many happy returns of the day," suggested Bragdon. "By Jove, it'ssensible of you to get married on your birthday, Monty. It saves timeand expense to your friends."
"Read it aloud," said "Subway" Smith.
"Two to one it's from Nopper Harrison," cried Pettingill.
Brewster's fingers trembled, he knew not why, as he opened theenvelope. There was the most desolate feeling in his heart, the mostghastly premonition that ill-news had come in this last hour. He drewforth the telegram and slowly, painfully unfolded it. No one could havetold by his expression that he felt almost that he was reading hisdeath warrant. It was from Grant & Ripley and evidently had beenfollowing him about town for two or three hours. The lawyers had filedit at 8:30 o'clock.
He read it at a glance, his eyes burning, his heart freezing. To theend of his days these words lived sharp and distinct in his brain.
"Come to the office immediately. Will wait all night for you ifnecessary. Jones has disappeared and there is absolutely no trace ofhim."
"Grant & Ripley."
Brewster sat as one paralyzed, absolutely no sign of emotion in hisface. The others began to clamor for the contents of the telegram, buthis tongue was stiff and motionless, his ears deaf. Every drop of bloodin his body was stilled by the shock, every sense given him by theCreator was centered upon eleven words in the handwriting of a carelesstelegraph operator--"Jones has disappeared and there is absolutely notrace of him."
"JONES HAS DISAPPEARED!" Those were the words, plain and terrible intheir clearness, tremendous in their brutality. Slowly the rest of themessage began to urge its claims upon his brain. "Come to our officeimmediately" and "Will wait all night" battled for recognition. He wascalm because he had not the power to express an emotion. How hemaintained control of himself afterward he never knew. Some powerful,kindly force asserted itself, coming to his relief with the timelinessof a genii. Gradually it began to dawn upon him that the others werewaiting for him to read the message aloud. He was not sure that a soundwould come forth when he opened his lips to speak, but the tones weresteady, natural and as cold as steel.
"I am sorry I can't tell you about this," he said, so gravely that hishearers were silenced. "It is a business matter of such vitalimportance that I must ask you to excuse me for an hour or so. I willexplain everything to-morrow. Please don't be uneasy. If you will do methe honor to grace the board of an absent host, I'll be most grateful.It is imperative that I go, and at once. I promise to return in anhour." He was standing, his knees as stiff as iron.
"Is it anything serious?" asked DeMille.
"What! has anything happened?" came in halting, frightened tones fromPeggy.
"It concerns me alone, and it is purely of a business nature.Seriously, I can't delay going for another minute. It is vital. In anhour I'll return. Peggy, don't be worried--don't be distressed aboutme. Go on and have a good time, everybody, and you'll find me thejolliest fellow of all when I come back. It's twelve o'clock. I'll behere by one on the 23d of September."
"Let me go with you," pleaded Peggy, tremulously, as she followed himinto the hallway.
"I must go alone," he answered. "Don't worry, little woman, it will beall right."
His kiss sent a chill to the very bottom of Peggy's heart.