CHAPTER XIII
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN
It was past three o'clock. The early twilight crept up the mountain, andthe shadows began to lengthen in the great bare office of Baldpate Inn.In the red flicker of firelight Mr. Magee sat and pondered; the intervalsince luncheon had passed lazily; he was no nearer to guessing which ofBaldpate Inn's winter guests hugged close the precious package.Exasperated, angry, he waited for he knew not what, restless all thewhile to act, but having not the glimmer of an inspiration as to whathis course ought to be.
He heard the rustle of skirts on the stair landing, and looked up. Downthe broad stairway, so well designed to serve as a show-window for thesartorial triumphs of Baldpate's gay summer people, came the tallhandsome girl who had the night before set all his plans awry. In theswift-moving atmosphere of the inn she had hitherto been to Mr. Mageebut a puppet of the shadows, a figure more fictitious than real. Now forthe first time he looked upon her as a flesh-and-blood girl, noted thered in her olive cheeks, the fire in her dark eyes, and realized thather interest in that package of money might be something more thananother queer quirk in the tangle of events.
She smiled a friendly smile at Magee, and took the chair he offered. Onesmall slipper beat a discreet tattoo on the polished floor of Baldpate'soffice. Again she suggested to Billy Magee a house of wealth and warmthand luxury, a house where Arnold Bennett and the post-impressionists areoften discussed, a house the head of which becomes purple and apoplecticat the mention of Colonel Roosevelt's name.
"Last night, Mr. Magee," she said, "I told you frankly why I had come toBaldpate Inn. You were good enough to say that you would help me if youcould. The time has come when you can, I think."
"Yes?" answered Magee. His heart sank. What now?
"I must confess that I spied this morning," she went on. "It was rude ofme, perhaps. But I think almost anything is excusable under thecircumstances, don't you? I witnessed a scene in the hall above--Mr.Magee, I know who has the two hundred thousand dollars!"
"You know?" cried Magee. His heart gave a great bound. At last! Andthen--he stopped. "I'm afraid I must ask you not to tell me," he addedsadly.
The girl looked at him in wonder. She was of a type common in Magee'sworld--delicate, finely-reared, sensitive. True, in her pride andhaughtiness she suggested the snow-capped heights of the eternal hills.But at sight of those feminine heights Billy Magee had always been oneto seize his alpenstock in a more determined grip, and climb. Witnesshis attentions to the supurb Helen Faulkner. He had a moment offaltering. Here was a girl who at least did not doubt him, who ascribedto him the virtues of a gentleman, who was glad to trust in him. Shouldhe transfer his allegiance? No, he could hardly do that now.
"You ask me not to tell you," repeated the girl slowly.
"That demands an explanation," replied Billy Magee. "I want you tounderstand--to be certain that I would delight to help you if I could.But the fact is that before you came I gave my word to secure thepackage you speak of for--another woman. I can not break my promise toher."
"I see," she answered. Her tone was cool.
"I'm very sorry," Magee went on. "But as a matter of fact, I seem to beof very little service to any one. Just now I would give a great deal tohave the information you were about to give me. But since I could notuse it helping you, you will readily see that I must not listen. I'msorry."
"I'm sorry, too," replied the girl. "Thank you very much--for tellingme. Now I must--go forward--alone." She smiled unhappily.
"I'm afraid you must," answered Billy Magee.
On the stairs appeared the slim figure of the other girl. Her great eyeswere wistful, her face was pale. She came toward them through the redfirelight. Mr. Magee saw what a fool he had been to waver in hisallegiance even for a moment. For he loved her, wanted her, surely. Thesnow-capped heights are inspiring, but far more companionable is thebrook that sparkles in the valley.
"It's rather dull, isn't it?" asked Miss Norton of the Thornhill girl.By the side of the taller woman she seemed slight, almost childish."Have you seen the pictures of the admiral, Miss Thornhill? Looking atthem is our one diversion."
"I do not care to see them, thank you," Myra Thornhill replied, movingtoward the stairs. "He is a very dear friend of my father." She passedup and out of sight.
Miss Norton turned away from the fire, and Mr. Magee rose hastily tofollow. He stood close behind her, gazing down at her golden hairshimmering in the dark.
"I've just been thinking," he said lightly, "what an absolutelyridiculous figure I must be in your eyes, buzzing round and round like abee in a bottle, and getting nowhere at all. Listen--no one has left theinn. While they stay, there's hope. Am I not to have one more chance--achance to prove to you how much I care?"
She turned, and even in the dusk he saw that her eyes were wet.
"Oh, I don't know, I don't know," she whispered. "I'm not angry anymore. I'm just--at sea. I don't know what to think--what to do. Why tryany longer? I think I'll go away--and give up."
"You mustn't do that," urged Magee. They came back into the firelight."Miss Thornhill has just informed me that she knows who has thepackage!"
"Indeed," said the girl calmly, but her face had flushed.
"I didn't let her tell me, of course."
"Why not?" Oh, how maddening women could be!
"Why not?" Magee's tone was hurt. "Because I couldn't use herinformation in getting the money for you."
"You are still 'going to' get the money for me?"
Maddening certainly, as a rough-edged collar.
"Of--" Magee began, but caught himself. No, he would prate no more of'going to'. "I'll not ask you to believe it," he said, "until I bring itto you and place it in your hand."
She turned her face slowly to his and lifted her blue eyes.
"I wonder," she said. "I wonder."
The firelight fell on her lips, her hair, her eyes, and Mr. Magee knewthat his selfish bachelorhood was at an end. Hitherto, marriage had beento him the picture drawn by the pathetic exiled master. "There are nomore pleasant by-paths down which you may wander, but the road lies longand straight and dusty to the grave." What if it were so? With the handof a girl like this in his, what if the pleasant by-paths of hissolitude did bear hereafter the "No Thoroughfare" sign? Long the roadmight be, and he would rejoice in its length; dusty perhaps, but hersmile through the dust would make it all worth while. He stooped to her.
"Give me, please," he said, "the benefit of the doubt." It was a poorspeech compared to what was in his heart, but Billy Magee was rapidlylearning that most of the pretty speeches went with puppets who couldnot feel.
Bland and Max came in from a brisk walk on the veranda. The mayor ofReuton, who had been dozing near the desk, stirred.
"Great air up here," remarked Mr. Max, rubbing his hands before thefire. "Ought to be pumped down into the region of the white lights. Itsure would stir things up."
"It would put out the lights at ten p.m.," answered Mr. Magee, "andinculcate other wholesome habits of living disastrous to the restaurantimpresarios."
Miss Norton rose and ascended the stairs. Still the protesting Magee wasat her heels. At the head of the stair she turned.
"You shall have your final chance," she said. "The mayor, Max and Blandare alone in the office. I don't approve of eavesdropping at Baldpate inthe summer--it has spoiled a lot of perfectly adorable engagements. Butin winter it's different. Whether you really want to help me or not I'msure I don't know, but if you do, the conversation below now might proveof interest."
"I'm sure it would," Magee replied.
"Well, I have a scheme. Listen. Baldpate Inn is located in a temperancecounty. That doesn't mean that people don't drink here--it simply meansthat there's a lot of mystery and romance connected with the drinking.Sometimes those who follow the god of chance in the card-room late atnight grow thirsty. Now it happens that there is a trap-door in thefloor of the card-room, up which drinks are frequently passed from thecellar. I
sn't that exciting? A hotel clerk who became human once in mypresence told me all about it. If you went into the cellar and huntedabout, you might find that door and climb up into the card-room."
"A bully idea," agreed Mr. Magee. "I'll hurry down there this minute.I'm more grateful than you can guess for this chance. And this time--butyou'll see."
He found the back stairs, and descended. In the kitchen the hermit gotin his path.
"Mr. Magee," he pleaded, "I consider that, in a way, I work for youhere. I've got something important to tell you. Just a minute--"
"Sorry," answered Magee, "but I can't possibly stop now. In an hour I'lltalk to you. Show me the cellar door, and don't mention where I've gone,there's a good fellow."
Mr. Peters protested that his need of talk was urgent, but to no avail.Magee hurried to the cellar, and with the aid of a box of matches founda ladder leading to a door cut in the floor above. He climbed throughdust and cobwebs, unfastened the catch, and pushed cautiously upward. Inanother minute he was standing in the chill little card-room. Softly heopened the card-room door about half an inch, and put his ear to it.
The three men were grouped very close at hand, and he heard Mr. Blandspeaking in low tones:
"I'm talking to you boys as a friend. The show is over. There ain't nouse hanging round for the concert--there won't be none. Go home and getsome clean collars and a square meal."
"If you think I'm going to be shook off by any fairy story like that,"said the mayor of Reuton "you're a child with all a child's touchingfaith."
"All right," replied Mr. Bland, "I thought I'd pass you the tip, that'sall. It ain't nothing to me what you do. But it's all over, and you'velost out. I'm sorry you have--but I take Hayden's orders."
"Damn Hayden!" snarled the mayor. "It was his idea to make a three-actplay out of this thing. He's responsible for this silly trip toBaldpate. This audience we've been acting for--he let us in for them."
"I know," said Bland. "But you can't deny that Baldpate Inn looked likethe ideal spot at first. Secluded, off the beaten path, you know, andall that."
"Yes," sneered the mayor, "as secluded as a Sunday-school the Sundaybefore Christmas."
"Well, who could have guessed it?" went on Mr. Bland. "As I say, I don'tcare what you do. I just passed you the tip. I've got that nice littlepackage of the long green--I've got it where you'll never find it. Yes,sir, it's returned to the loving hands of little Joe Bland, that broughtit here first. It ain't going to roam no more. So what's the use of yoursticking around?"
"How did you get hold of it?" inquired Mr. Lou Max.
"I had my eye on this little professor person," explained Mr. Bland."This morning when Magee went up the mountain I trailed the high-brow toMagee's room. When I busted in, unannounced by the butler, he was makinghis getaway. I don't like to talk about what followed. He's an old man,and I sure didn't mean to break his glasses, nor scratch his dome ofthought. There's ideas in that dome go back to the time of Anthony J.Chaucer. But--he's always talking about that literature chair ofhis--why couldn't he stay at home and sit in it? Anyhow, I got thebundle all right, all right. I wonder what the little fossil wants withit."
"The Doc's glasses _was_ broke," said Max, evidently to the mayor ofReuton.
"Um-m," came Cargan's voice. "Bland, how much do you make working forthis nice kind gentleman, Mr. Hayden?"
"Oh, about two thousand a year, with pickings," replied Bland.
"Yes?" went on Mr. Cargan. "I ain't no Charles Dana Gibson with words.My talk's a little rough and sketchy, I guess. But here's the outline,plain as I can make it. Two thousand a year from Hayden. Twenty thousandin two seconds if you hand that package to me."
"No," objected Bland. "I've been honest--after a fashion. I can't quitestand for that. I'm working for Hayden."
"Don't be a fool," sneered Max.
"Of course," said the mayor, "I appreciate your scruples, having had afew in my day myself, though you'd never think so to read the _Star_.But look at it sensible. The money belongs to me. If you was to hand itover you'd be just doing plain justice. What right has Hayden on hisside? I did what was agreed--do I get my pay? No. Who are you to defeatthe ends of justice this way? That's how you ought to look at it. Yougive me what's my due--and you put twenty thousand in your pocket by anhonest act. Hayden comes. He asks for the bundle. You point to thedynamited safe. You did your best."
"No," said Bland, but his tone was less firm. "I can't go back onHayden. No--it wouldn't--"
"Twenty thousand," repeated Cargan. "Ten years' salary the way you'regoing ahead at present. A lot of money for a young man. If I was you Iwouldn't hesitate a minute. Think. What's Hayden ever done for you?He'll throw you down some day, the way he's thrown me."
"I--I--don't know--" wavered Bland. Mr. Magee, in the card-room, knewthat Hayden's emissary was tottering on the brink.
"You could set up in business," whined Mr. Max. "Why, if I'd had thatmuch money at your age, I'd be a millionaire to-day."
"You get the package," suggested the mayor, "take twenty thousand out,and slip the rest to me. No questions asked. I guess there ain't nobodymixed up in this affair will go up on the housetops and shout about itwhen we get back to Reuton."
"Well,--" began Bland. He was lost. Suddenly the quiet of BaldpateMountain was assailed by a loud pounding at the inn door, and a voicecrying, "Bland. Let me in."
"There's Hayden now," cried Mr. Bland.
"It ain't too late," came the mayor's voice, "You can do it yet. Itain't too late."
"Do what?" cried Bland in a firm tone. "You can't bribe me, Cargan." Heraised his voice. "Go round to the east door, Mr. Hayden." Then headded, to Cargan: "That's my answer. I'm going to let him in."
"Let him in," bellowed the mayor. "Let the hound in. I guess I've gotsomething to say to Mr. Hayden."
There came to Magee's ears the sound of opening doors, and of returningfootsteps.
"How do you do, Cargan," said a voice new to Baldpate.
"Cut the society howdydoes," replied the mayor hotly. "There's a littlescore to be settled between me and you, Hayden. I ain't quite wise toyour orchid-in-the-buttonhole ways. I don't quite follow them. I ain'tbeen bred in the club you hang around--they blackballed me when I triedto get in. You know that. I'm a rough rude man. I don't understand yoursystem. When I give my word, I keep it. Has that gone out of style up onthe avenue, where you live?"
"There are conditions--" began Hayden.
"The hell there are!" roared Cargan. "A man's word's his word, and hekeeps it to me, or I know the reason why. You can't come down to theCity Hall with any new deal like this. I was to have two hundredthousand. Why didn't I get it?"
"Because," replied Hayden smoothly, "the--er--little favor you were togrant me in return is to be made useless by the courts."
"Can I help that?" the mayor demanded. "Was there anything about that inthe agreement? I did my work. I want my pay. I'll have it, _Mister_Hayden."
Hayden's voice was cool and even as he spoke to Bland.
"Got the money, Joe?"
"Yes," Bland answered.
"Where?"
"Well--we'd better wait, hadn't we?" Bland's, voice was shaky.
"No. We'll take it and get out," answered Hayden.
"I want to see you do it," cried Cargan. "If you think I've come up hereon a pleasure trip, I got a chart and a pointer all ready for your nextlesson. And let me put you wise--this nobby little idea of yours aboutBaldpate Inn is the worst ever. The place is as full of people as if theregular summer rates was being charged."
"The devil it is!" cried Hayden. His voice betrayed a startledannoyance.
"It hasn't worried me none," went on the mayor. "They can't touch me. Iown the prosecutor, and you know it. But it ain't going to do you anygood on the avenue if you're seen here with me. Is it, Mr. Hayden?"
"The more reason," replied Hayden, "for getting the money and leaving atonce. I'm not afraid of you, Cargan. I'm armed."
"I ain't," sneered the mayo
r. "But no exquisite from your set with hislittle air-gun ever scared me. You try to get away from here with thatbundle and you'll find yourself all tangled up in the worst scrap thatever happened."
"Where's the money, Joe?" asked Hayden.
"You won't wait--" Bland begged.
"Wait to get my own money--I guess not. Show me where it is."
"Remember," put in Cargan, "that money's mine. And don't have any pipedreams about the law--the law ain't called into things of this sort as arule. I guess you'd be the last to call it. You'll never get away fromhere with my money."
Mr. Magee opened the card-room door farther, and saw the figure of thestranger Hayden confronting the mayor. Mr. Cargan's title of exquisitebest described him. The newcomer was tall, fair, fastidious in dress andmanner. A revolver gleamed in his hand.
"Joe," he said firmly, "take me to that money at once."
"It's out here," replied Bland. He and Hayden disappeared through thedining-room door into the darkness. Cargan and Max followed closebehind.
Hot with excitement, Mr. Magee slipped from his place of concealment. Abattle fit for the gods was in the air. He must be in the midst ofit--perhaps again in a three-cornered fight it would be the third partythat would emerge victorious.
In the darkness of the dining-room he bumped into a limp clingingfigure. It proved to be the Hermit of Baldpate Mountain.
"I got to talk to you, Mr. Magee," he whispered in a frightened tremolo."I got to have a word with you this minute."
"Not now," cried Magee, pushing him aside. "Later."
The hermit wildly seized his arm.
"No, now," he said. "There's strange goings-on, here, Mr. Magee. I gotsomething to tell you--about a package of money I found in the kitchen."
Mr. Magee stood very still. Beside him in the darkness he heard thehermit's excited breathing.