CHAPTER XIV
THE SIGN OF THE OPEN WINDOW
Undecided, Mr. Magee looked toward the kitchen door, from behind whichcame the sound of men's voices. Then he smiled, turned and led Mr.Peters back into the office. The Hermit of Baldpate fairly trembled withnews.
"Since I broke in on you yesterday morning," he said in a low tone as hetook a seat on the edge of a chair, "one thing has followed another sofast that I'm a little dazed. I can't just get the full meaning of itall."
"You have nothing on me there, Peters," Magee answered. "I can'teither."
"Well," went on the hermit, "as I say, through all this downpour ofpeople, including women, I've hung on to one idea. I'm working for you.You give me my wages. You're the boss. That's why I feel I ought to givewhat information I got to you."
"Yes, yes," Mr. Magee agreed impatiently. "Go ahead."
"Where you find women," Peters continued, "there you find things beyondunderstanding. History--"
"Get to the point."
"Well--yes. This afternoon I was looking round through the kitchen, sortof reconnoitering, you might say, and finding out what I have to workwith, for just between us, when some of this bunch goes I'll easily bepersuaded to come back and cook for you. I was hunting round in the bigrefrigerator with a candle, thinking maybe some little token of food hadbeen left over from last summer's rush--something in a can that time cannot wither nor custom stale, as the poet says--and away up on the topshelf, in the darkest corner, I found a little package."
"Quick, Peters," cried Magee, "where is that package now?"
"I'm coming to that," went on the hermit, not to be hurried. "Whatstruck me first about the thing was it didn't have any dust on it.'Aha,' I says, or words to that effect. I opened it. What do you thinkwas in it?"
"I don't have to think--I know," said Magee. "Money. In the name ofheaven, Peters, tell me where you've got the thing."
"Just a minute, Mr. Magee. Let me tell it my way. You're right. Therewas money in that package. Lots of it. Enough to found a university, orbuy a woman's gowns for a year. I was examining it careful-like when ashadow came in the doorway. I looked up--"
"Who?" asked Magee breathlessly.
"That little blinky-eyed Professor Bolton was standing there, mostowlish and interested. He came into the refrigerator. 'That package youhave in your hand, Peters,' he says, 'belongs to me. I put it in coldstorage so it would keep. I'll take it now.' Well, Mr. Magee, I'm apeaceful man. I could have battered that professor into a learned sortof jelly if I'd wanted to. But I'm a great admirer of Mr. Carnegie, onaccount of the library, and I go in for peace. I knew it wasn't exactlythe thing, but--"
"You gave him the package?"
"That's hardly the way I would put it, Mr. Magee. I made no outcry orresistance when he took it. 'I'm just a cook,' I says, 'in this house. Iain't the trusted old family retainer that retains its fortunes like asafety deposit vault.' So I let go the bundle. It was weak of me, Iknow, but I sort of got the habit of giving up money, being married somany years."
"Peters," said Mr. Magee, "I'm sorry your grip was so insecure, but I'mmighty glad you came to me with this matter."
"He told me I wasn't to mention it to anybody," replied the hermit, "butas I say, I sort of look on it that we were here first, and if ourguests get to chasing untold wealth up and down the place, we ought tolet each other in on it."
"Correct," answered Magee. "You are a valuable man, Peters. I want youto know that I appreciate the way you have acted in this affair." Fourshadowy figures tramped in through the dining-room door. "I should say,"he continued, "that the menu you propose for dinner will prove mostgratifying."
"What--oh--yes, sir," said Peters. "Is that all?"
"Quite," smiled Magee. "Unless--just a minute, this may concern you--onmy word, there's another new face at Baldpate."
He stood up, and in the light of the fire met Hayden. Now he saw thatthe face of the latest comer was scheming and weak, and that under asmall blond mustache a very cruel mouth sought to hide. The strangergazed at Magee with an annoyance plainly marked.
"A friend of mine--Mr.--er--Downs, Mr. Magee," muttered Bland.
"Oh, come now," smiled Magee. "Let's tell our real names. I heard yougreeting your friend a minute ago. How are you, Mr. Hayden?"
He held out his hand. Hayden looked him angrily in the eyes.
"Who the devil are you?" he asked.
"Do you mean," said Magee, "that you didn't catch the name. It'sMagee--William Hallowell Magee. I hold a record hereabouts, Mr. Hayden.I spent nearly an hour at Baldpate Inn--alone. You see, I was the firstof our amiable little party to arrive. Let me make you welcome. Are youstaying to dinner? You must."
"I'm not," growled Hayden.
"Don't believe him, Mr. Magee," sneered the mayor, "he doesn't alwayssay what he means. He's going to stay, all right."
"Yes, you'd better, Mr. Hayden," advised Bland.
"Huh--delighted, I'm sure," snapped Hayden. He strolled over to thewall, and in the light of the fire examined a picture nonchalantly.
"The pride of our inn," Mr. Magee, following, explained pleasantly, "theadmiral. It is within these very walls in summer that he plays hisfamous game of solitaire."
Hayden wheeled quickly, and looked Magee in the eyes. A flush crossedhis face, leaving it paler than before. He turned away without speaking.
"Peters," said Magee, "you heard what Mr. Hayden said. An extra plate atdinner, please. I must leave you for a moment, gentlemen." He saw thattheir eyes followed him eagerly--full of suspicion, menacing. "We shallall meet again, very shortly."
Hayden slipped quickly between Magee and the stairs. The latter facedhim smilingly, reflecting as he did so that he could love this man butlittle.
"Who are you?" said Hayden again. "What is your business here?"
Magee laughed outright, and turned to the other men.
"How unfortunate," he said, "this gentleman does not know the mannersand customs of Baldpate in winter. Those are questions, Mr. Hayden, thatwe are never impolite enough to ask of one another up here." He moved ontoward the stairs, and reluctantly Hayden got out of his path. "I amvery happy," he added, "that you are to be with us at dinner. It willnot take you long to accustom yourself to our ways, I'm sure."
He ran up the stairs and passed through number seven out upon thebalcony. Trudging through the snow, he soon sighted the room ofProfessor Bolton. And as he did so, a little shiver that was not due toatmospheric conditions ran down his spine. For one of the professor'swindows stood wide open, bidding a welcome to the mountain storm. Petershad spoken the truth. Once more that tight little, right little packagewas within Mr. Magee's ken.
He stepped through the open window, and closed it after him. By thetable sat Professor Bolton, wrapped in coats and blankets, reading bythe light of a solitary candle. The book was held almost touching hisnose--a reminder of the spectacles that were gone. As Magee entered theold man looked up, and a very obvious expression of fright crossed hisface.
"Good evening, Professor," said Magee easily. "Don't you find it rathercool with the window open?"
"Mr. Magee," replied the much wrapped gentleman, "I am that ratherdisturbing progressive--a fresh air devotee. I feel that God's good airwas meant to be breathed, not barricaded from our bodies."
"Perhaps," suggested Magee, "I should have left the window open?"
The old man regarded him narrowly.
"I have no wish to be inhospitable," he replied. "But--if you please--"
"Certainly," answered Magee. He threw open the window. The professorheld up his book.
"I was passing the time before dinner with my pleasant old companion,Montaigne. Mr. Magee, have you ever read his essay on liars?"
"Never," said Magee. "But I do not blame you for brushing up on it atthe present time, Professor. I have come to apologize. Yesterday morningI referred in a rather unpleasant way to a murder in the chemicallaboratory at one of our universities. I said that the professor ofc
hemistry was missing. This morning's paper, which I secured from Mr.Peters, informs me that he has been apprehended."
"You need not have troubled to tell me," said the old man. He smiled hisbleak smile.
"I did you an injustice," went on Magee.
"Let us say no more of it," pleaded Professor Bolton.
Mr. Magee walked about the room. Warily the professor turned so that theother was at no instant at his back. He looked so helpless, so little,so ineffectual, that Mr. Magee abandoned his first plan of leaping uponhim there in the silence. By more subtle means than this must hispurpose be attained.
"I suppose," he said, "your love of fresh air accounts for the strollson the balcony at all hours of the night?"
The old man merely blinked at him.
"I mustn't stop," Magee continued. "I just wanted to make my apology,that's all. It was unjust of me. Murder--that is hardly in your line. Bythe way, were you by any chance in my room this morning, ProfessorBolton?"
Silence.
"Pardon me," remarked the professor at last, "if I do not answer. Inthis very essay on--on liars, Montaigne has expressed it so well. 'Andhow much is a false speech less sociable than silence.' I am a sociableman."
"Of course," smiled Magee. He stood looking down at the frail oldscholar before him, and considered. Of what avail a scuffle there inthat chill room? The package was no doubt safely hidden in a corner hecould not quickly find. No he must wait, and watch.
"Good-by, until dinner," he said, "and may you find much in your wisecompanion's book to justify your conduct."
He went out through the open window, and in another moment stood justoutside Miss Norton's room. She put a startled head out at his knock.
"Oh, it's you," she said. "I can't invite you in. You might learnterrible secrets of the dressing-table--mamma is bedecking herself fordinner. Has anything happened?"
"Throw something over your head, Juliet," smiled Magee, "the balcony iswaiting for you."
She was at his side in a moment, and they walked briskly along theshadowy white floor.
"I know who has the money," said Magee softly. "Simply through a turn ofluck, I know. I realize that my protestations of what I am going to dohave bored you. But it looks very much to me as if that package would bein your hands very soon."
She did not reply.
"And when I have got it, and have given it to you--if I do," hecontinued, "what then?"
"Then," she answered, "I must go away--very quickly. And no one mustknow, or they will try to stop me."
"And after that?"
"The deluge," she laughed without mirth.
Up above them the great trees of Baldpate Mountain waved their blackarms constantly as though sparring with the storm. At the foot of theburied roadway they could see the lamps of Upper Asquewan Falls; underthose lamps prosaic citizens were hurrying home with the suppergroceries through the night. And not one of those citizens was withinmiles of guessing that up on the balcony of Baldpate Inn a young man hadseized a young woman's hand, and was saying wildly: "Beautiful girl--Ilove you."
Yet that was exactly what Billy Magee was doing. The girl had turned herface away.
"You've known me just two days," she said.
"If I can care this much in two days," he said, "think--but that's old,isn't it? Sometime soon I'm going to say to you: 'Whose girl are you?'and you're going to look up at me with a little heaven for two in youreyes and say: 'I'm Billy Magee's girl.' So before we go any further Imust confess everything--I must tell you who this Billy Magee is--thisman you're going to admit you belong to, my dear."
"You read the future glibly," she replied. "Are your prophecies true, Iwonder?"
"Absolutely. Some time ago--on my soul, it was only yesterday--I askedif you had read a certain novel called _The Lost Limousine_, and yousaid you had, and that--it wasn't sincere. Well, I wrote it--"
"Oh!" cried the girl.
"Yes," said Magee, "and I've done others like it. Oh, yes, my muse hasbeen a _nouveau riche_ lady in a Worth gown, my ambition a big redmotor-car. I've been a 'scramble a cent, mister' troubadour beckoningfrom the book-stalls. It was good fun writing those things, and itbrought me more money than was good for me. I'm not ashamed of them;they were all right as a beginning in the game. But the other day--Ithought an advertisement did the trick--I turned tired of that sort, andI decided to try the other kind--the real kind. I thought it was anadvertisement that did it--but I see now it was because you were just afew days away."
"Don't tell me," whispered the girl, "that you came up here to--to--"
"Yes," smiled Magee, "I came up here to forget forever the world's giddymelodrama, the wild chase for money through deserted rooms, shots in thenight, cupid in the middle distance. I came here to do--literature--ifit's in me to do it."
The girl leaned limply against the side of Baldpate Inn.
"Oh, the irony of it!" she cried.
"I know," he said, "it's ridiculous. I think all this is meant justfor--temptation. I shall be firm. I'll remember your parable of theblind girl--and the lamp that was not lighted. I'll do the real stuff.So that when you say--as you certainly must some day--'I'm Billy Magee'sgirl' you can say it proudly."
"I'm sure," she said softly, "that if I ever do say it--oh, no, I didn'tsay I would"--for he had seized her hands quickly--"if I ever do sayit--it will certainly be proudly. But now--you don't even know myname--my right one. You don't know what I do, nor where I come from, norwhat I want with this disgusting bundle of money. I sort of feel, youknow--that this is in the air at Baldpate, even in the winter time. Nosooner have the men come than they begin to talk of--love--to whatevergirls they find here--on this very balcony--down there under the trees.And the girls listen, for--it's in the air, that's all. Then autumncomes, and everybody laughs, and forgets. May not our autumn come--whenI go away?"
"Never," cried Magee. "This is no summer hotel affair to me. It's a realin winter and summer love, my dear--in spring and fall--and when you goaway, I'm going too, about ten feet behind."
"Yes," she laughed, "they talk that way at Baldpate--the last weeks ofsummer. It's part of the game." They had come to the side of the hotelon which was the annex, and the girl stopped and pointed. "Look!" shewhispered breathlessly.
In a window of the annex had appeared for a moment a flickering yellowlight. But only for a moment.
"I know," said Mr. Magee. "There's somebody in there. But that isn'timportant in comparison. This is no summer affair, dear. Look to thethermometer for proof. I love you. And when you go away, I shallfollow."
"And the book--"
"I have found better inspiration than Baldpate Inn."
They walked along for a time in silence.
"You forget," said the girl, "you only know who has the money."
"I will get it," he answered confidently. "Something tells me I will.Until I do, I am content to say no more."
"Good-by," said the girl. She stood in the window of her room, while aharsh voice called "That you, dearie?" from inside. "And I may add," shesmiled, "that in my profession--a following is consideredquite--desirable."
She disappeared, and Mr. Magee, after a few minutes in his room,descended again to the office. In the center of the room, Elijah Quimbyand Hayden stood face to face.
"What is it, Quimby?" asked Magee.
"I just ran up to see how things were going," Quimby replied, "and Ifind him here."
"Our latest guest," smiled Magee.
"I was just reminding Mr. Hayden," Quimby said, his teeth set, an angrylight in his eyes, "that the last time we met he ordered me from hisoffice. I told you, Mr. Magee, that the Suburban Railway once promisedto make use of my invention. Then Mr. Kendrick went away--and this mantook charge. When I came around to the offices again--he laughed at me.When I came the second time, he called me a loafer and ordered me out."
He paused, and faced Hayden again.
"I've grown bitter, here on the mountain," he said, "as I've thoughtover what you and men lik
e you said to me--as I've thought of what mighthave been--and what was--yes, I've grown pretty bitter. Time after timeI've gone over in my mind that scene in your office. As I've sat herethinking you've come to mean to me all the crowd that made a fool of me.You've come to mean to me all the crowd that said 'The public be damned'in my ear. I haven't ever forgot--how you ordered me out of youroffice."
"Well?" asked Hayden.
"And now," Quimby went on, "I find you trespassing in a hotel left in mycare--the tables are turned. I ought to show you the door. I ought toput you out."
"Try it," sneered Hayden.
"No," answered Quimby, "I ain't going to do it. Maybe it's because I'vegrown timid, brooding over my failure. And maybe it's because I knowwho's got the seventh key."
Hayden made no reply. No one stirred for a minute, and then Quimby movedaway, and went out through the dining-room door.