CHAPTER VI
CHARITY BEGINS FAR FROM HOME, AND A STROLL IN THE WILDWOOD FOLLOWS
Mr. Rushcroft as furious when he arose at eleven o'clock on the morningafter the double murder, having slept like a top through all of thecommotion. He boomed all over the place, vocal castigations fallingright and left on the guilty and the innocent without distinction. Hewouldn't have missed the excitement for anything in the world. Hedidn't mind missing the breakfast he was to have had with Barnes, buthe did feel outraged over the pusillanimous trick played upon him bythe remaining members of his troupe. Nothing was to have been expectedof Putnam Jones and his damnation crew; they wouldn't have called himif the house was afire; they would let him roast to death; butcertainly something was due him from the members of his company,something better than utter abandonment!
He was still deep in the sulks when he came upon Barnes, who was pacingthe sunlit porch, deep in thought.
"There will never be another opportunity like that," he groaned, at theclose of a ten minute dissertation on the treachery of friends; "neverin all the years to come. The driveling fools! What do I pay them for?To let me lie there snoring so loud that I couldn't hear opportunityfor the noise I was making? As in everything else I undertake, my dearBarnes, I excel at snoring. My lung capacity is something amazing. Ithas to have an outlet. They let me lie there like a log while therichest publicity material that ever fell to the lot of an actor wentto waste,--utter waste. Why, damme, sir, I could have made that scenein the tap-room historic; I could have made it so dramatic that itwould have thrilled to the marrow every man, woman and child in theUnited States of America. That's what I mean. They allowed a chancelike that to get away. Can you beat it? Tragedy at my very elbow,--bygad, almost nudging me, you might say,--and no one to tell me to getup. Think of the awful requiem I could have--But what's the usethinking about it now? I am so exasperated I can't think of anythingbut anathemas, so--"
"I don't see how you managed to sleep through it," Barnes broke in."You must have an unusually clear conscience, Mr. Rushcroft."
"I haven't any conscience at all, sir," roared the star. "I had anunusually full stomach, that's what was the matter with me. Damme, Iought to have known better. I take oath now, sir, never to eat again aslong as I live. A man who cannot govern his beastly appetite ought todefy it, if nothing else."
"I gather from that remark that you omitted breakfast this morning."
"Breakfast, sir? In God's name, I implore you not to refer to anythingso disgusting as stewed prunes and bacon at a time like this. My mindis--"
"How about luncheon? Will you join me at twelve-thirty?"
"That's quite another matter," said Mr. Rushcroft readily. "Luncheon isan aesthetic tribute to the physical intelligence of man, if you knowwhat I mean. I shall be delighted to join you. Twelve-thirty, did yousay?"
"It would give me great pleasure if your daughter would also grace thefestal board."
"Ahem! My daughter and I are--er--what you might say 'on the outs' atpresent. I dare say I was a trifle crusty with her this morning. Shewas a bit inconsiderate, too, I may add. As a matter of fact she toldme to go and soak my head." Mr. Rushcroft actually blushed as he saidit. "I don't know where the devil she learned such language, unlessshe's been overhearing the disrespectful remarks that some of theseconfounded opera house managers make when I try to argue with themabout--But never mind! She's a splendid creature, isn't she? She has itborn in her to be one of the greatest actresses in--"
"I think it is too bad that she has to go about in the gown she wears,Mr. Rushcroft," said Barnes. "She's much too splendid for that. I havea proposition I'd like to make to you later on. I cannot make it,however, without consulting Miss Thackeray's feelings."
"My dear fellow!" beamed Rushcroft, seizing the other's hand. "Onefrequently reads in books about it coming like this, at first sight,but, damme, I never dreamed that it ever really happened. Count on me!She ought to leave the stage, the dear child. No more fitted to it thanan Easter lily. Her place is in the home, the--"
"Good Lord, I'm not thinking of--" And Barnes, aghast, stopped beforeblurting out the words that leaped to his lips. "I mean to say, this isa proposition that may also affect your excellent companions, Bacon andDillingford, as well as yourselves."
"Abominations!" snorted Rushcroft. "I fired both of them this morning.They are no longer connected with my company. I won't have 'em around.What's more, they can't act and never will. The best bit of acting thatBacon ever did in his life was when he told me to go to hell a littlewhile ago. I say 'acting,' mind you, because the wretch COULDN'T havebeen in earnest, and yet he gave the most convincing performance of hislife. If I'd ever dreamed that he had it in him to do it so well, I'dhave had the line in every play we've done since he joined us, authoror no author."
At twelve-thirty sharp, Barnes came down from his room freshly shavedand brushed, to find not only Mr. Rushcroft and Miss Thackeray awaitinghim in the office, but the Messrs. Dillingford and Bacon as well.Putnam Jones, gloomy and preoccupied behind the counter, allowed hiseyes to brighten a little as the latest guest of the house approachedthe group.
"I've given all of 'em an hour or two off," he said genially. "Do whatyou like to 'em."
Rushcroft expanded. "My good man, what the devil do you mean by aremark like that? Remember--"
"Never mind, dad," said Miss Thackeray, lifting her chin haughtily."Forgive us our trespassers as we forgive our trespasses. And remember,also, that poor, dear Mr. Jones is all out of sorts to-day. He is allkeyed up over the notoriety his house is going to achieve before thegovernment gets through annoying him."
"See here, Miss," began Mr. Jones, threateningly, and then, overcome byhis Yankee shrewdness, stopped as suddenly as he started. "Go on in andhave your dinner. Don't mind me. I am out of sorts." He was smartenough to realise that it was wiser to have the good rather than theill-will of these people. He dreaded the inquiry that was imminent.
"That's better," mumbled Mr. Rushcroft, partially mollified. "I tookthe liberty, old fellow," he went on, addressing Barnes, "of asking myexcellent co-workers to join us in our repast. In all my career I havenot known more capable, intelligent players than these--"
"Delighted to have you with us, gentlemen," said Barnes affably. "Infact, I was going to ask Mr. Rushcroft if he had the slightestobjection to including you--"
"Oh, the row's all over," broke in Mr. Dillingford magnanimously. "Itdidn't amount to anything. I'm sure if Mr. Rushcroft doesn't object tous, we don't object to him."
"Peace reigns throughout the land," said Mr. Bacon, in his deepestbass. "Precede us, my dear Miss Thackeray."
The sole topic of conversation for the first half hour was themysterious slaying of their fellow lodgers. Mr. Rushcroft complainedbitterly of the outrageous, high-handed action of the coroner andsheriff in imposing upon him and his company the same restrictions thathad been applied to Barnes. They were not to leave the county until theauthorities gave the word. One would have thought, to hear the star'sindignant lamentations, that he and his party were in a position todepart when they pleased. It would have been difficult to imagine thathe was not actually rolling in money instead of being absolutelypenniless.
"What were these confounded rascals to me?" he demanded, scowling atMiss Tilly as if she were solely to blame for his misfortune. "Whyshould I be held up in this God-forsaken place because a couple ofscoundrels got their just deserts? Why, I repeat? I'd--"
"I--I'm sure I--I don't know," stammered Miss Tilly, wetting her drylips with her tongue in an attempt to be lucid.
"What?" exploded Mr. Rushcroft, somewhat taken aback by the retort froman unexpected quarter. "Upon my soul, I--I--What?"
"He won't bite, Miss Tilly," said Miss Thackeray soothingly.
"Oh, dear!" said Miss Tilly, putting her hand over her mouth.
Barnes had been immersed in his own thoughts for some time. A slightfrown, as of reflection, darkened his eyes. Suddenly,--perhapsimpolitely,--he interrupte
d Mr. Rushcroft's flow of eloquence.
"Have you any objection, Mr. Rushcroft, to a more or less personalquestion concerning your own private--er--misfortunes?" he asked,leaning forward.
For a moment one could have heard a pin drop. Mr. Rushcroft evidentlyheld his breath. There could be no mistake about that.
"I don't mean to be offensive," Barnes made haste to add.
"My misfortunes are not private," said Mr. Rushcroft, with dignity."They are decidedly public. Ask all the questions you please, my dearfellow."
"Well, it's rather delicate, but would you mind telling me just howmuch you were stuck up for by the--er--was it a writ of attachment?"
"It was," said the star. "A writ of inquisition, you might as wellsubstitute. The act of a polluted, impecunious, parsimonious,--whatshall I say? Well, I will be as simple as possible: hotel keeper. Inother words, a damnation blighter, sir. Ninety-seven dollars and fortycents. For that pitiful amount he subjected me to--"
"Well, that isn't so bad," said Barnes, vastly relieved. "It wouldrequire that amount to square everything and release your personaleffects?"
"It would release the whole blooming production," put in Mr.Dillingford, with unction. "Including my dress suit and a top hat, tosay nothing of a change of linen and--"
"Two wood exteriors and a parlor set, make-up boxes, wardrobe trunks, aslide trombone and--" mused Mr. Bacon, and would have gone on but forBarnes' interruption.
He was covertly watching Miss Thackeray's half-averted face as heventured upon the proposition he had decided to put before them. Shewas staring out of the window, and there was a strained, almostharassed expression about the corners of her mouth. The glimpse he hadof her dark eyes revealed something sullen, rebellious in them. She hadtaken no part in the conversation for some time.
"I am prepared and willing to advance this amount, Mr. Rushcroft, andto take your personal note as security."
Rushcroft leaned back in his chair and stuck his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. He displayed no undue elation. Instead he affectedprofound calculation. His daughter shot a swift, searching look at thewould-be Samaritan. There was a heightened colour in her cheeks.
"Ahem," said Rushcroft, squinting at the ceiling beams.
"Moreover, I shall be happy to increase the amount of the loansufficiently to cover your return at once to New York, if you sodesire,--by train." Barnes smiled as he added the last two words.
"Extremely kind of you, my dear Barnes," said the actor, running hisfingers through his hair. "Your faith in me is most gratifying. I--Ireally don't know what to say to you, sir."
"Of course, Mr. Barnes, you ought to know that you may be a long timein getting your money back," said his daughter levelly. "We are poorpay."
"My dear child," began Mr. Rushcroft, amazed.
"I shall permit your father himself to specify the number of months oryears to be written in the body of the note," said Barnes.
"And if he never pays, what then?" said she.
"I shall not trouble him with demands for the money," said Barnes.
"May I inquire just how you expect to profit by this transaction, Mr.Barnes?" she asked steadily.
He started, suddenly catching her meaning.
"My dear Miss Thackeray," he exclaimed, "this transaction is solelybetween your father and me. I shall have no other claim to press."
"I wish I could believe that," she said.
"You may believe it," he assured her.
"It isn't the usual course," she said quietly, and her face brightened."You are not like most men, Mr. Barnes."
"My dear child," said Rushcroft, "you must leave this matter to ourfriend and me. I fancy I know an honest man when I see him. My dearfellow, fortune is but temporarily frowning upon me. In a few weeks Ishall be on my feet again, zipping along on the crest of the wave. Idare say I can return the money to you in a month or six weeks. If--"
"Oh, father!" cried Miss Thackeray.
"We'll make it six months, and I'll pay any rate of interest youdesire. Six per cent, eight per cent, ten per--"
"Six per cent, sir, and we will make it a year from date."
"Agreed. And now, Miss Tilly, will you ask the barmaid,--who happens tobe masculine,--to step in here and take the orders? We would drink toDame Fortune, who has a smile that defies all forms of adversity. Outof the clouds falls a slice of silver lining. It alights in mytrembling palm. I--I--Damme, sir, you are a nobleman! In behalf of mydaughter, my company and the--Heaven forfend! I was about to add theaccursed management!--I thank you. Get up and dance for us, Dilly! Weshall be in New York to-morrow!"
"You forget the dictatorial sheriff, Mr. Rushcroft," said Barnes.
"The varlet!" barked Mr. Rushcroft.
It was arranged that Dillingford and Bacon were to go to Hornville in ahired motor that afternoon, secure the judgment, pay the costs, andattend to the removal of the personal belongings of the strandedquartette from the hotel to Hart's Tavern. The younger actors stoutlyrefused to accept Barnes' offer to pay their board while at the Tavern.That, they declared, would be charity, and they preferred hisfriendship and his respect to anything of that sort. Miss Thackeray,however, was to be immediately relieved of her position as chambermaid.She was to become a paying guest.
"I'll be glad to have my street togs, such as they are," said she,rosily. "I dare say you are sick of seeing me in this rig, Mr. Barnes.That's probably why you opened your heart and purse."
"Not at all," said he gaily. "As I presume I shall have to remain herefor some time, I deem it my right to improve the service as much aspossible. You are a very incompetent chambermaid, Miss Thackeray."
Rushcroft took the whole affair with the most noteworthy complacency.He seemed to regard it as his due, or more properly speaking as if hewere doing Barnes a great favour in allowing him to lend money to aperson of his importance.
"A thought has just come to me, my dear fellow," he remarked, as theyarose from table. "With the proper kind of backing I could put over oneof the most stupendous things the theatre has known in fifty years. Idon't mind saying to you,--although it's rather sub rosa--that I havewritten a play. A four act drama that will pack the biggest house onBroadway to the roof for as many months as we'd care to stay. Perhapsyou will allow me to talk it over with you a little later on. You willbe interested, I'm sure. I actually shudder sometimes when I think ofthe filthy greenbacks I'll have to carry around on my person if thepiece ever gets into New York. Yes, yes, I'll be glad to talk it overwith you. Egad, sir, I'll read the play to you. I'll--What ho,landlord! When my luggage arrives this evening will you be good enoughto have it placed in the room just vacated by the late Mr. Roon? Mydaughter will have the room adjoining, sir. By the way, will you haveyour best automobile sent around to the door as quickly as possible? Acouple of my men are going to Hornville--damned spot!--to fetch hithermy--"
"Just a minute," interrupted Putnam Jones, wholly unimpressed. "A manjust called you up on the 'phone, Mr. Barnes. I told him you wasentertaining royalty at lunch and couldn't be disturbed. So he asked meto have you call him up as soon as you revived. His words, not mine.Call up Mr. O'Dowd at Green Fancy. Here's the number."
The mellow voice of the Irishman soon responded.
"I called you up to relieve your mind regarding the young woman whocame last night," he said. "You observe that I say 'came.' She's quiteall right, safe and sound, and no cause for uneasiness. I thought youmeant that she was coming here as a guest, and so I made the verynatural mistake of saying she hadn't come at all, at all. The youngwoman in question is Mrs. Van Dyke's maid. But bless me soul, how was Ito know she was even in existence, much less expected by train or motoror Shanks' mare? Well, she's here, so there's the end of our mystery.We sha'n't have to follow your gay plan of searching the wilderness forbeauty in distress. Our romance is spoiled, and I am sorry to say it toyou. You were so full of it this morning that you had me all stirred upmeself."
Barnes was slow in replying. He was doubting his own e
ars. It was notconceivable that an ordinary--or even an extraordinary--lady's maidcould have possessed the exquisite voice and manner of his chanceacquaintance of the day before, or the temerity to order thatsour-faced chauffeur about as if--The chauffeur!
"But I thought you said that Mr. Curtis's chauffeur was moon-facedand--"
"He is, bedad," broke in Mr. O'Dowd, chuckling. "That's what deceivedme entirely, and no wonder. It wasn't Peter at all, but the rapscallionwasher who went after her. He was instructed to tell Peter to meet thefour o'clock train, and the blockhead forgot to give the order. Bedad,what does he do but sneak out after her himself, scared out of hisboots for fear of what he was to get from Peter. I had the whole storyfrom Mrs. Van Dyke."
"Well, I'm tremendously relieved," said Barnes slowly.
"And so am I," said O'Dowd, with conviction. "I have seen the heroineof our busted romance. She's a good-looking girl. I'm not surprisedthat she kept her veil down. If you were to leave it to me, though, I'dsay that it's a sin to carry discretion so far as all that. I thoughtI'd take the liberty of calling you up as soon as I had the facts, sothat you wouldn't go forth in knightly ardour--You see what I mean,don't you?" His rich laugh came over the wire.
"Perfectly. Thank you for letting me know. My mind is at rest."
"Will you be staying on for some days at the Tavern?"
"I think so."
"Well, I shall give myself the pleasure of running over to see you in aday or so."
"Do," said Barnes. "Good by." As he hung up the receiver he said tohimself, "You are a most affable, convincing chap, Mr. O'Dowd, but Idon't believe a word you say. That woman is no lady's maid, and you'veknown all the time that she was there."
At four o'clock he set out alone for a tramp up the mountain road inwhich the two men had been shot down. A number of men under thedirection of the sheriff were scouring the lofty timberland for thedeadly marksmen. He knew it would turn out to be as futile as theproverbial effort to find the needle in the haystack.
His mind was quite clear on the subject. Roon and Paul were notordinary robbers. They were, no doubt, honest men. He would have saidthat they were thieves bent on burglarising Green Fancy were it not forthe disclosures of Miss Thackeray and the very convincing proof thatthey were not shot by the same man. Detected on the grounds about GreenFancy by a watchman, they would have had an encounter with him thereand then. Moreover, they would have taken an active part in the play offirearms. Desperadoes would not have succumbed so tamely.
It was not beyond reason,--indeed, it was quite probable,--that theywere trying to cross the border; in that event, their real operationswould be confined to the Canadian side of the line. They wereunmistakably foreigners. That fact, in itself, went far towardestablishing in his mind the conviction that they were not attemptingto intercept any one coming from the other side. Equally as strong wasthe belief that the Canadian authorities would not have entered uponUnited States territory for the purpose of apprehending these suspects,no matter how thoroughly the movements and motives of the two men mighthave been known to them.
He could not free himself of the suspicion that Green Fancy possessedthe key to the situation. Roon and his companion could not have had theslightest interest in his movements up to the instant he encounteredthe young woman at the cross-roads. It was ridiculous to even considerhimself an object of concern to these men who had been haunting theborder for days prior to his appearance on the scene. They wereinterested only in the advent of the woman, and as her destinationconfessedly was Green Fancy, what could be more natural than theconclusion that their plans, evil or otherwise, depended entirely uponher arrival at the strange house on the mountainside? They had beenawaiting her appearance for days. The instant it became known to themthat she was installed at Green Fancy, their plans went forward with aswiftness that bespoke complete understanding.
His busy brain suddenly suffered the shock of a distinct conclusion. Sostartling was the thought that he stopped abruptly in his walk anduttered an exclamation of dismay. Was she a fellow-conspirator? Was shethe inside worker at Green Fancy in a well-laid plan to rifle theplace? She too was unmistakably a foreigner.
Could it be possible that she was the confederate of these painstakingagents who lurked with sinister patience outside the very gates of theplace called Green Fancy?
In support of this theory was the supposition that O'Dowd may have beenperfectly sincere in his declarations over the telephone. Opposed toit, however, was the absolute certainty that Roon and Paul were waylaidand killed at widely separated points, and not while actively employedin raiding the house. That was the rock over which all of his theoriesstumbled.
His ramble carried him far beyond the spot where Roon's body was foundand where young Conley had come upon the tethered horses. His eager,curious gaze swept the forest to the left of the road in search ofGreen Fancy. Overcome by a rash, daring impulse, he climbed over thestake and rider fence and sauntered among the big trees which so farhad obscured the house from view. He had looked in vain for the lane oravenue leading from the road up to Mr. Curtis's house. He could nothave passed it in his stroll, of that he was sure, and yet heremembered distinctly seeing O'Dowd and De Soto turn their horses intothe forest at a point far back of the place where he now entered thegrounds.
The trees grew very thickly on the slope, and they were unusuallylarge. Virgin timber, he decided, on which the woodman's axe had madeno inroads. The foliage was dense. Tree tops seemed to intermingle inone vast canopy through which the sun but rarely penetrated. The brightgreen of the grass, the sponginess of the soil, the presence of greatstretches of ferns and beds of moss told of almost perpetual moisture.Strangely enough there was no suggestion of dankness in these shadowyglades, rich with the fulness of early Spring.
He progressed deeper into the wood. At the end of what must have been amile, he halted. There was no sign of habitation, no indication thatman had ever penetrated so far into the forest. As he was on the pointof retracing his steps toward the road, his gaze fell upon a hugemoss-covered rock less than a hundred yards away. He stared, andgradually it began to take on angles and planes and recesses of themost astounding symmetry. Under his widening gaze it was transformedinto a substantial object of cubes and gables and--yes, windows.
He was looking upon the strange home of the even stranger Mr. Curtis:Green Fancy.
Now he understood why it was called Green Fancy. Its surroundings wereno greener than itself; it seemed to melt into the foliage, to become apart of the natural landscape. For a long time he stood stock-still,studying the curious structure. Mountain ivy literally enveloped it.Exposed sections of the house were painted green,--a mottled green thatseemed to indicate flickering sunbeams against an emerald wall. Thedoors were green; the leafy porches and their columns, the chimneypots, the window hangings,--all were the colour of the unchangingforest. And it was a place of huge dimensions, low and long andrambling. It seemed to have been forcibly jammed into the steep slopethat shot high above its chimneys; the mountain hung over its vine cladroof, an ominous threat of oblivion.
There was no lawn, no indication of landscape gardening, and yet Barneswas singularly impressed by the arrangement of the shrubbery thatsurrounded the place. There was no visible approach to the housethrough the thick, unbroken sea of green; everywhere was denseunderbrush, standing higher than the head of the tallest ofmen,--clean, bright bushes, revealing the most astonishing uniformityin size and character.
"'Gad," he said to himself, "what manner of crank is he who would buryhimself like this? Of all the crazy ideas I ever--"
His reflections ended there. A woman crossed his vision; a womanstrolling slowly toward him through the intricate avenues of thewildwood.