CHAPTER VII
DANCE HALL GLITTER
"218 Murray Hill," Lola repeated impatiently into the telephone. "Ihave been waiting quite five minutes. Hello! Hello! Madam Zelya,please! This is Miss Barnhelm! Hello! Is that you, Madam? Yes, yes, Ihave just received your note, and I do not think you are quite fair inthe matter. Yes, I know that I did promise, but it is quiteimpossible. What! My father has nothing to do with this matter,absolutely nothing. If you will be patient for two or three dayslonger the account will be settled. What is that?... Oh! I am sorrythat you choose to take that tone. If you call upon my father you willget nothing, either from my father or from me. I will promise to senda check in a day or two; until then please do not annoy me."
With this Lola hung up the receiver, leaving a very angry Hungariandress-maker to get what satisfaction she might from shrill threats anddire prophecies, and turned away from the telephone in time to meether father and Dr. Crossett as they entered from the outside hall.
"Who has been annoying you, little girl?" inquired her father, who hadheard the end of the conversation.
"Only that stupid hall-boy," answered Lola calmly. "He is alwaysmaking mistakes. What a time you two have been, to be sure. I thoughtthat you had deserted me for good."
"No chance of that, my dear," said Dr. Crossett. "In fact it was to besure of having a long talk with you that I hurried your father back."
"I am afraid we must postpone that talk for a little while, Doctor. Iam going to my room for a few moments. You will excuse me, won't you?"She smiled sweetly at him and held out her hand, and he bowed over itgallantly as he answered:
"Come back soon. I shall be waiting."
"Oh, I promise you that you shall see quite enough of me, Doctor," shereplied; "before you are here a day you will be glad to get me out ofyour sight. I know I am going to bore you dreadfully, but I have somany things I want to talk over with you, and so many questions I wantto ask you, about things that happened long ago before I was here tobe a trouble to you."
She went gayly down the long hall, stopping at her door to wave herhand at him as he stood watching her.
"No sign there of nervous troubles," he said as he joined her fatherin the sitting room. "Her eyes are bright and clear, her voice issteady. She looks happy and well. You, Martin, are the greatestinventor in the world's history."
"Hardly that," said the Doctor with a laugh.
"Ah, yes," insisted the Frenchman. "Men have made fortunes, fame,history by the children of their brain, but what man before, by thepower of his mind, has brought back from the dead his own daughter?"
"A curious study," said Dr. Barnhelm thoughtfully as he seated himselfin a deep chair by the table and motioned to his friend to sitopposite to him; "remarkably curious, these things we call life, anddeath, and body, and soul. It is a queer fact, Paul, that no matterhow we strive our knowledge stops short at the gates of death. What isbeyond?"
"For many years," answered the Doctor, as he lighted a cigarette andsank back in his chair with a sigh of comfort, "that troubled me, butas I grow older I find myself thinking less of death and clinging fastto life. Death! Bah! It does not frighten me. It may be a vastnothingness, or it may be a step to a higher existence. What does itmatter? Our work is here; we have our friends to love, our duty to bedone; that is life, and I like it."
"The body dies," went on Dr. Barnhelm, "but the soul, can that everdie? I doubt it! Every man of us who has a soul must doubt it."
"Every man of us," said Paul. "Ah! At least we, all of us, have thatin common, I suppose."
"All of us? Do you think so?"
"Naturally, to a greater or less degree. Your soul, my friend, may bebig and fine; mine may be mean and small, but if in the human bodythere is such a thing, surely we all of us must have it."
"Do you know the theory of the 'Sixth Day Men,' Paul?"
"'The Sixth Day Men,'" repeated Paul, "no. It has a most effectivetitle, this theory of yours; tell me of it."
"In the beginning, God created the Heaven and the Earth; for six dayshe labored, and on the seventh day he rested."
"I heard rumors to that effect," commented Dr. Crossett lightly.
"Days in that time," continued Dr. Barnhelm, not noticing his friend'sinterruption, "were not of twenty-four hours; they were Alous, cyclesof time. During those periods animal life came, evolution went on, bitby bit, with thousands of years between each step of its progress. Aman-thing came into the world."
"Before the seventh day," enquired Paul, with interest, for he dearlyloved any discussion of this sort, and he knew that any theoryconsidered worthy of attention by his old friend must at least holdpoints of interest.
"Yes," said Dr. Barnhelm. "Before the seventh day."
"Ah! This is interesting and new to me. Then our old friend Adam wasnot the first man?"
"Listen, Paul! After the seventh day 'God breathed the breath of lifeinto Adam's nostrils.' He, therefore, was the first 'man,' for he hada God-given soul. In him was more of the divine than we can claim, forwe are told that he could 'walk with God.' That was before the fall.Eve's fall, in the Garden of Eden, by this theory, was her guilty lovefor one of these soulless, earth-born 'men things,' and of them Cainwas born. Born without a soul, and, as the Bible tells us, 'Cain wentaway and found himself a wife.' Where? Where else than from amongthese Sixth Day people, soulless, all of them, and their descendantscould have brought into the world small trace of the divine. Meanwhilesons of Adam were beginning to people the earth, and later these tworaces mingled. There began a struggle between good and evil in thehuman heart, a struggle that has never ended. Sometimes will be born ahuman being in whom occurs a curious 'throw back' of generations tothese soulless Sixth Day ancestors. Sometimes the good in us conquersthe evil, and sometimes the evil conquers, kills the good, and theGod-given soul leaves us and there is nothing left but an animal, a'man thing,' a straight descendant of one of those Sixth Day horrors,whose blood has contaminated us since the fall of Eve."
"Ah!" Dr. Crossett was bending forward now eagerly. "Your theory hastaken me by surprise; it is new to me."
"It is not new to the world, or at least not altogether new; some ofthe old German thinkers wrote of it. Darwin considered it. Each of usis conscious at times of sudden revolts against virtue, suddenreasonless impulses for evil. It is the struggle of the divided soul."
"But, Martin, if your theory is sound, one or the other of theseforces must conquer in the end, the good or the evil."
"Evil never conquers in the end, Paul. Or our world would long agohave become chaos. When, in future generations, the last trace of ourSixth Day ancestors has been driven out, this theory holds that theworld will once again be as God meant it to be, and we shall have thereal brotherhood of Man." He paused.
"What have you to say? What do you think?"
"I think," replied Dr. Crossett, "that I should like a very largedrink of your whiskey."
"You are right, Paul," returned Dr. Barnhelm, rising. "A cigar, adrink, and a game of chess, they are a better prescription for a tiredman than a new philosophy."
He rang the bell and asked Maria for whiskey and a syphon, and as shewent for it he took from a little wooden box a shabby, worn old set ofchessmen.
"A talk over old times will freshen my mind for my ordeal to-morrow,for it is to be an ordeal, Paul. My theory of restoring the muscularactivity to the heart after death has occurred is admitted to bepractical, in fact successful. Laboratory experiments upon animals arewithin the experience of most of the big men whom I am to faceto-morrow. They are ready to admit my theory, but they must beconvinced against their will of my ability to always restore lifeunder all conditions where death has resulted simply from the failureof the heart to perform its functions and where there has been noorganic decay. They laugh at my claim that I can succeed in performingthis experiment after as great a time as five hours from the moment ofthe last heart beat, and it seems to be the general opinion that fiveminutes would be a more conservative
and a more exact statement."
"It is a very pleasant thing," commented Paul. "This laughter offools. In all ages it has been granted to some lucky few, this greatdistinction, to be laughed at and to be right. You are in goodcompany, Martin. The same sort of persons once laughed at Watts, atColumbus, at Darwin, at Dr. Bell, and at Marconi. Noah was, I believe,the first object of popular ridicule, but that did not affect thevalue of the Ark when the flood came. Come, we will forget all of thisuntil the time comes, and I will beat you at a game of chess. Unlessmy memory plays me tricks, I won the last game, all of twenty yearsago, and I can do it again."
Maria entered the room with a tray, on which were a bottle of whiskey,carbonic water and glasses, and put it down on the table as Dr.Barnhelm took out a thick pocketbook from his inside pocket and said,"First, I will put this money away until to-morrow."
He crossed the room to a small safe that was set into the wall andhidden from sight by a picture. "Can you open this thing, Maria?"
"I think so, sir," replied Maria, going to the safe at once andturning the combination. "Miss Lola taught me how, if I can remember."
After a moment's effort the small door of the safe opened, and shesaid, with evident relief, "There!"
"Good!" exclaimed the Doctor, as he placed the pocketbook in the safeand closed and locked it.
"Thank you, Maria, and, Maria, ask Miss Lola to come to us when she isready."
"Yes, Doctor," and Maria, after a glance to make sure that all wasright with her tray, left them alone together.
"To the old days, Paul," said the Doctor, after filling his own glassand his friend's.
"No," replied Paul, "to now, to to-morrow. May the future be as happyas that old past; and may your daughter, if she lives, be as good awoman as her mother; and if she dies, may she leave as sweet a memorybehind her."
They drank in silence, and as they put their glasses down Lola joinedthem. She had changed to what, to the masculine eye, looked like avery elaborate street costume, and she stood there in the doorwaybuttoning her gloves as she called out gayly:
"You two look comfortable!"
"Ah, yes," replied Dr. Crossett. "An old friend, a good drink, apretty woman, what more could be asked? Ah, my dear." He looked at heradmiringly. "How chic, how fine we look."
"A new dress, Lola?" inquired her father, looking up from his chessmenabsently.
"Oh, dear, no," said Lola, carelessly. "Just an old rag."
"A dainty rag," commented Dr. Crossett.
"I am sure I never saw it before," continued Dr. Barnhelm, looking ather a little anxiously.
"It's just a little thing I had made up. It cost scarcely anything. Iam glad if it looks even passable," remarked Lola.
"Passable!" responded Dr. Crossett. "Twenty years ago it would neverhave passed me, not with its present wearer. Do you know, Lola, whatwould be the greatest joy that could come to me? To take you to Paris,to show you to my friends, to see you there in the city that of allthe world's cities best knows how to value a beautiful woman. There isbut one word for you to-day, Lola. You are radiant."
He spoke no more than the truth. She had always been a beautiful girl,but since her recovery she had gained the things she had alwaysneeded, color, animation, and as she stood there now, laughing at him,but thrilling at his praise, she made a picture that few men couldhave looked at unmoved. The rich costume set her off to greatadvantage and her contemptuous description of it would not havedeceived any woman's eye for a moment.
"And if you are not careful you will make me frightfully conceited.Now you two be real good, and don't drink too much of that whiskeybefore I come back."
"Are you going out?" asked her father as he made the opening move ofthe game.
"Yes, dear, I have a little appointment at three. It really doesn'tmatter at all, but I thought that you two would rather be alone."
She bent over her father's chair, and kissed him tenderly, then turneddaringly to Dr. Crossett, her hand on his shoulder and, her face verynear to his, she said teasingly, "If you were just the very leastlittle bit older I should kiss you, too."
"I am," replied the Doctor promptly, "considerably older than I look."
"You are not to be trusted," she responded gayly. "I am very sure ofthat! Good-bye, dears. I am going now."
As she turned away, a little hurriedly, for she saw by the clock onthe mantel that it was ten minutes of three, John Dorris entered theroom; at the sight of him standing there between her and the door forjust a fraction of a second a queer, fierce look flashed across herface, such a look as one might see in an angry panther's eyes, butbefore John could see it, it was gone, and she was smiling at himsweetly.
"How early you are, John," she exclaimed. "It is awfully sweet of you,but I'm afraid it will be very dull unless you are fond of chess."
"You are going out?" questioned John in what seemed to Dr. Crossett ashe rose to shake hands with him rather a curt tone.
"Yes," replied Lola, "I am afraid I must."
"My dear boy, I am very glad to see you," said Dr. Crossett to John,of whom he had really grown very fond in those few days followingLola's accident.
"Thank you, Doctor," replied John heartily, as he returned thepressure of the Doctor's hand. "It is very kind of you to say so," andhe turned away, perhaps a little hastily, and followed Lola up to thedoor. "Shall I go with you, Lola?"
"Oh, dear, no," replied Lola. "It would bore you dreadfully, andbesides I really couldn't have you, even if you care to come. I am ina great hurry. I promised to be there at three. Sit down and watch thegame." She took him by the arm and led him back to the table. "Fatherwill need your help, I am afraid. See! He is in trouble already.Here----" She stepped to a small table and returned with a box ofcigars. "Why don't you men smoke? Really, you must." She held the boxto each of them in turn, smiling so compellingly that even John wasforced to take one, but in spite of her smile he thought he saw in herface a trace of anxious impatience, and to him at least her beautifulnew dress was not wholly a pleasure. Little as he knew of the realcost of such a costume, he knew that it was far more expensive thanDr. Barnhelm's purse could afford, and in some vague manner itassociated itself in his mind with Mrs. Harlan and her friends.
"Would you mind telling me where you are going, Lola?" he enquiredanxiously.
"Oh, dear, no; why should I?" she answered as she struck a match andheld it, first to her father's, then to Dr. Crossett's cigar. "I amgoing to see poor little Nellie Mooney. She isn't at all well, youknow, father, and I really haven't the heart to disappoint her.There!" She placed the decanter and glasses on the table near to him."Do see that they are comfortable, John. You may have just as fine atime as you want to, you selfish male things," she went on as shecrossed quickly to the door. "But don't quite forget me while I amgone."
She left the room laughing, and as the outside door closed behind herthe little clock on the mantel struck three.
The chess game went on deliberately, quietly, and the young man satthere watching it, but at the same time letting his thoughts wander,and suddenly he found himself following in his mind Lola's progress.He pictured her walking down the Drive with the brisk, swinging strideshe had assumed of late; then in his mind he saw her crossSeventy-second Street and take a crowded car; in all the changes ofher long, complicated trip to the upper East Side he idly kept pacewith her, glancing from time to time at the clock, until he seemed tosee her running lightly up the dizzy stairs of a shabby tenement houseon a side street and entering a tidy little room on the top floor. Hesaw the room plainly in his mind, for he had often been there withLola before they had moved to this new apartment. No, now that he cameto think of it, not since Lola's recovery, but before then they hadgone there together almost every day. He liked to think of her there;on her errand of mercy she would stop and buy flowers, he thought.Nellie loved flowers. How her poor, tired little face used to brightenwhen she would look up from the sofa where she lay all day long andsaw Lola coming into the room.
He
closed his eyes, and leaning back in his chair saw the picture inhis mind. The poor little room, the white-faced, suffering child,smiling happily now, with the flowers pressed against her face, andLola--Lola bending over her, fresh, beautiful, gentle in her face thelook he had seen there once, that wonderful radiance that is seensometimes in a young girl's face, the foreshadowing of motherhood.
* * * * *
The blare of music, too near and too loud. The confused babble ofrattling dishes, discordant laughter, high-pitched voices, and theclinking of glasses that were filled again and again, but emptied asfast as they were replenished. A great room, the air heavy with manyodors and foul with tobacco smoke.
Here at one table an old man, with jewels on his fat fingers, with hima young girl, almost a child, a girl in a shabby dress, with eyesbright with wonder and with fear.
Here and there, in this brilliant throng, could be picked outbold-eyed men, who laughed across the tables at nervous, frightenedwomen, women who laughed back with terror in their hearts. Comedy,farce, tragedy, aching hearts, and aching heads. Empty lives and emptypocketbooks. Bluff and sham. Age and youth. Love and hate. Fear andlust. One could feel them all, but one could only hear the ceaseless,empty laughter rising above the music, above the noise.
If to laugh is to be happy, here was happiness.