Chapter XII
Aubrey Determines to give Service that's Different
Seldom has a young man spent a more desolate afternoon than Aubrey onthat Sunday. His only consolation was that twenty minutes after he hadleft the bookshop he saw a taxi drive up (he was then sitting gloomilyat his bedroom window) and Titania enter it and drive away. Hesupposed that she had gone to join the party in Larchmont, and was gladto know that she was out of what he now called the war zone. For thefirst time on record, O. Henry failed to solace him. His pipe tastedbitter and brackish. He was eager to know what Weintraub was doing,but did not dare make any investigations in broad daylight. His ideawas to wait until dark. Observing the Sabbath calm of the streets, andthe pageant of baby carriages wheeling toward Thackeray Boulevard, hewondered again whether he had thrown away this girl's friendship for amerely imaginary suspicion.
At last he could endure his cramped bedroom no longer. Downstairssomeone was dolefully playing a flute, most horrible of all tortures totightened nerves. While her lodgers were at church the tireless Mrs.Schiller was doing a little housecleaning: he could hear the monotonousrasp of a carpet-sweeper passing back and forth in an adjoining room.He creaked irritably downstairs, and heard the usual splashing behindthe bathroom door. In the frame of the hall mirror he saw a pencillednote: Will Mrs. Smith please call Tarkington 1565, it said.Unreasonably annoyed, he tore a piece of paper out of his notebook andwrote on it Will Mrs. Smith please call Bath 4200. Mounting to thesecond floor he tapped on the bathroom door. "Don't come in!" cried anagitated female voice. He thrust the memorandum under the door, andleft the house.
Walking the windy paths of Prospect Park he condemned himself torelentless self-scrutiny. "I've damned myself forever with her," hegroaned, "unless I can prove something." The vision of Titania's facesilhouetted against the shelves of books came maddeningly to his mind."I was going to have such a good time, and you've spoilt it all!" Withwhat angry conviction she had said: "I never saw a man like youbefore--and I've seen a good many!"
Even in his disturbance of soul the familiar jargon of his professioncame naturally to utterance. "At least she admits I'm DIFFERENT," hesaid dolefully. He remembered the first item in the Grey-Matter Code,a neat little booklet issued by his employers for the information oftheir representatives:
Business is built upon CONFIDENCE. Before you can sell Grey-MatterService to a Client, you must sell YOURSELF.
"How am I going to sell myself to her?" he wondered. "I've simply gotto deliver, that's all. I've got to give her service that's DIFFERENT.If I fall down on this, she'll never speak to me again. Not only that,the firm will lose the old man's account. It's simply unthinkable."
Nevertheless, he thought about it a good deal, stimulated from time totime as in the course of his walk (which led him out toward thefaubourgs of Flatbush) he passed long vistas of signboards, which heimagined placarded with vivid lithographs in behalf of the Chapmanprunes. "Adam and Eve Ate Prunes On Their Honeymoon" was a slogan thatflashed into his head, and he imagined a magnificent paintingillustrating this text. Thus, in hours of stress, do all men turn forcomfort to their chosen art. The poet, battered by fate, heals himselfin the niceties of rhyme. The prohibitionist can weather the blackestmelancholia by meditating the contortions of other people's abstinence.The most embittered citizen of Detroit will never perish by his ownhand while he has an automobile to tinker.
Aubrey walked many miles, gradually throwing his despair to the winds.The bright spirits of Orison Swett Marden and Ralph Waldo Trine,Dioscuri of Good Cheer, seemed to be with him reminding him thatnothing is impossible. In a small restaurant he found sausages,griddle cakes and syrup. When he got back to Gissing Street it wasdark, and he girded his soul for further endeavour.
About nine o'clock he walked up the alley. He had left his overcoat inhis room at Mrs. Schiller's and also the Cromwell bookcover--havingtaken the precaution, however, to copy the inscriptions into his pocketmemorandum-book. He noticed lights in the rear of the bookshop, andconcluded that the Mifflins and their employee had got home safely.Arrived at the back of Weintraub's pharmacy, he studied the contours ofthe building carefully.
The drug store lay, as we have explained before, at the corner ofGissing Street and Wordsworth Avenue, just where the Elevated railwayswings in a long curve. The course of this curve brought thescaffolding of the viaduct out over the back roof of the building, andthis fact had impressed itself on Aubrey's observant eye the daybefore. The front of the drug store stood three storeys, but in therear it dropped to two, with a flat roof over the hinder portion. Twowindows looked out upon this roof. Weintraub's back yard opened ontothe alley, but the gate, he found, was locked. The fence would not behard to scale, but he hesitated to make so direct an approach.
He ascended the stairs of the "L" station, on the near side, and payinga nickel passed through a turnstile onto the platform. Waiting untiljust after a train had left, and the long, windy sweep of planking wassolitary, he dropped onto the narrow footway that runs beside thetrack. This required watchful walking, for the charged third rail wasvery near, but hugging the outer side of the path he proceeded withouttrouble. Every fifteen feet or so a girder ran sideways from thetrack, resting upon an upright from the street below. The fourth ofthese overhung the back corner of Weintraub's house, and he crawledcautiously along it. People were passing on the pavement underneath,and he greatly feared being discovered. But he reached the end of thebeam without mishap. From here a drop of about twelve feet would bringhim onto Weintraub's back roof. For a moment he reflected that, oncedown there, it would be impossible to return the same way. However, hedecided to risk it. Where he was, with his legs swinging astride thegirder, he was in serious danger of attracting attention.
He would have given a great deal, just then, to have his overcoat withhim, for by lowering it first he could have jumped onto it and muffledthe noise of his fall. He took off his coat and carefully dropped iton the corner of the roof. Then cannily waiting until a train passedoverhead, drowning all other sounds with its roar, he lowered himselfas far as he could hang by his hands, and let go.
For some minutes he lay prone on the tin roof, and during that time anumber of distressing ideas occurred to him. If he really expected toget into Weintraub's house, why had he not laid his plans morecarefully? Why (for instance) had he not made some attempt to find outhow many there were in the household? Why had he not arranged with oneof his friends to call Weintraub to the telephone at a given moment, sothat he could be more sure of making an entry unnoticed? And what didhe expect to see or do if he got inside the house? He found no answerto any of these questions.
It was unpleasantly cold, and he was glad to slip his coat on again.The small revolver was still in his hip pocket. Another thoughtoccurred to him--that he should have provided himself with tennisshoes. However, it was some comfort to know that rubber heels of anationally advertised brand were under him. He crawled quietly up tothe sill of one of the windows. It was closed, and the room inside wasdark. A blind was pulled most of the way down, leaving a gap of aboutfour inches. Peeping cautiously over the sill, he could see fartherinside the house a brightly lit door and a passageway.
"One thing I've got to look out for," he thought, "is children. Thereare bound to be some--who ever heard of a German without offspring? IfI wake them, they'll bawl. This room is very likely a nursery, as it'son the southeastern side. Also, the window is shut tight, which isprobably the German idea of bedroom ventilation."
His guess may not have been a bad one, for after his eyes becameaccustomed to the dimness of the room he thought he could perceive twocot beds. He then crawled over to the other window. Here the blindwas pulled down flush with the bottom of the sash. Trying the windowvery cautiously, he found it locked. Not knowing just what to do, hereturned to the first window, and lay there peering in. The sill wasjust high enough above the roof level to make it necessary to raisehimself a littl
e on his hands to see inside, and the position was verytrying. Moreover, the tin roof had a tendency to crumple noisily whenhe moved. He lay for some time, shivering in the chill, and wonderingwhether it would be safe to light a pipe.
"There's another thing I'd better look out for," he thought, "andthat's a dog. Who ever heard of a German without a dachshund?"
He had watched the lighted doorway for a long while without seeinganything, and was beginning to think he was losing time to no profitwhen a stout and not ill-natured looking woman appeared in the hallway.She came into the room he was studying, and closed the door. Sheswitched on the light, and to his horror began to disrobe. This wasnot what he had counted on at all, and he retreated rapidly. It wasplain that nothing was to be gained where he was. He sat timidly atone edge of the roof and wondered what to do next.
As he sat there, the back door opened almost directly below him, and heheard the clang of a garbage can set out by the stoop. The door stoodopen for perhaps half a minute, and he heard a male voice--Weintraub's,he thought--speaking in German. For the first time in his life heyearned for the society of his German instructor at college, and alsowondered--in the rapid irrelevance of thought--what that worthy man wasnow doing to earn a living. In a rather long and poorly lubricatedsentence, heavily verbed at the end, he distinguished one phrase thatseemed important. "Nach Philadelphia gehen"--"Go to Philadelphia."
Did that refer to Mifflin? he wondered.
The door closed again. Leaning over the rain-gutter, he saw the lightgo out in the kitchen. He tried to look through the upper portion ofthe window just below him, but leaning out too far, the tin spout gavebeneath his hands. Without knowing just how he did it, he slithereddown the side of the wall, and found his feet on a window-sill. Hishands still clung to the tin gutter above. He made haste to climb downfrom his position, and found himself outside the back door. He hadmanaged the descent rather more quietly than if it had been carefullyplanned. But he was badly startled, and retreated to the bottom of theyard to see if he had aroused notice.
A wait of several minutes brought no alarm, and he plucked up courage.On the inner side of the house--away from Wordsworth Avenue--a narrowpaved passage led to an outside cellar-way with old-fashioned slantingdoors. He reconnoitred this warily. A bright light was shining from awindow in this alley. He crept below it on hands and knees fearing tolook in until he had investigated a little. He found that one flap ofthe cellar door was open, and poked his nose into the aperture. Allwas dark below, but a strong, damp stench of paints and chemicalsarose. He sniffed gingerly. "I suppose he stores drugs down there,"he thought.
Very carefully he crawled back, on hands and knees, toward the lightedwindow. Lifting his head a few inches at a time, finally he got hiseyes above the level of the sill. To his disappointment he found thelower half of the window frosted. As he knelt there, a pipe set in thewall suddenly vomited liquid which gushed out upon his knees. Hesniffed it, and again smelled a strong aroma of acids. With greatcare, leaning against the brick wall of the house, he rose to his feetand peeped through the upper half of the pane.
It seemed to be the room where prescriptions were compounded. As itwas empty, he allowed himself a hasty survey. All manner of bottleswere ranged along the walls; there was a high counter with scales, adesk, and a sink. At the back he could see the bamboo curtain which heremembered having noticed from the shop. The whole place was in theutmost disorder: mortars, glass beakers, a typewriter, cabinets oflabels, dusty piles of old prescriptions strung on filing hooks, papersof pills and capsules, all strewn in an indescribable litter. Someinfusion was heating in a glass bowl propped on a tripod over a bluegas flame. Aubrey noticed particularly a heap of old books severalfeet high piled carelessly at one end of the counter.
Looking more carefully, he saw that what he had taken for a mirror overthe prescription counter was an aperture looking into the shop.Through this he could see Weintraub, behind the cigar case, waitingupon some belated customer with his shop-worn air of affability. Thevisitor departed, and Weintraub locked the door after him and pulleddown the blinds. Then he returned toward the prescription room, andAubrey ducked out of view.
Presently he risked looking again, and was just in time to see acurious sight. The druggist was bending over the counter, pouring someliquid into a glass vessel. His face was directly under a hangingbulb, and Aubrey was amazed at the transformation. The apparentlygenial apothecary of cigar stand and soda fountain was gone. He sawinstead a heavy, cruel, jowlish face, with eyelids hooded down over theeyes, and a square thrusting chin buttressed on a mass of jaw andsuetty cheek that glistened with an oily shimmer. The jaw quivered alittle as though with some intense suppressed emotion. The man wascompletely absorbed in his task. The thick lower lip lapped upwardover the mouth. On the cheekbone was a deep red scar. Aubrey felt apang of fascinated amazement at the gross energy and power of thatabominable relentless mask.
"So this is the harmless old thing!" he thought.
Just then the bamboo curtain parted, and the woman whom he had seenupstairs appeared. Forgetting his own situation, Aubrey still stared.She wore a faded dressing gown and her hair was braided as though forthe night. She looked frightened, and must have spoken, for Aubrey sawher lips move. The man remained bent over his counter until the lastdrops of liquid had run out. His jaw tightened, he straightenedsuddenly and took one step toward her, with outstretched handimperiously pointed. Aubrey could see his face plainly: it had asavagery more than bestial. The woman's face, which had borne a timid,pleading expression, appealed in vain against that fierce gesture. Sheturned and vanished. Aubrey saw the druggist's pointing fingertremble. Again he ducked out of sight. "That man's face would belonely in a crowd," he said to himself. "And I used to think themovies exaggerated things. Say, he ought to play opposite Theda Bara."
He lay at full length in the paved alley and thought that a littleacquaintance with Weintraub would go a long way. Then the light in thewindow above him went out, and he gathered himself together for quickmotion if necessary. Perhaps the man would come out to close thecellar door----
The thought was in his mind when a light flashed on farther down thepassage, between him and the kitchen. It came from a small barredwindow on the ground level. Evidently the druggist had gone down intothe cellar. Aubrey crawled silently along toward the yard. Reachingthe lit pane he lay against the wall and looked in.
The window was too grimed for him to see clearly, but what he couldmake out had the appearance of a chemical laboratory and machine shopcombined. A long work bench was lit by several electrics. On it hesaw glass vials of odd shapes, and a medley of tools. Sheets of tin,lengths of lead pipe, gas burners, a vise, boilers and cylinders, talljars of coloured fluids. He could hear a dull humming sound, which hesurmised came from some sort of revolving tool which he could see wasrun by a belt from a motor. On trying to spy more clearly he foundthat what he had taken for dirt was a coat of whitewash which had beenapplied to the window on the inside, but the coating had worn away inone spot which gave him a loophole. What surprised him most was to spythe covers of a number of books strewn about the work table. One, hewas ready to swear, was the Cromwell. He knew that bright blue clothby this time.
For the second time that evening Aubrey wished for the presence of oneof his former instructors. "I wish I had my old chemistry professorhere," he thought. "I'd like to know what this bird is up to. I'dhate to swallow one of his prescriptions."
His teeth were chattering after the long exposure and he was wetthrough from lying in the little gutter that apparently drained offfrom the sink in Weintraub's prescription laboratory. He could not seewhat the druggist was doing in the cellar, for the man's broad back wasturned toward him. He felt as though he had had quite enough thrillsfor one evening. Creeping along he found his way back to the yard, andstepped cautiously among the empty boxes with which it was strewn. Anelevated train rumbled overhead, and he watched t
he brightly lightedcars swing by. While the train roared above him, he scrambled up thefence and dropped down into the alley.
"Well," he thought, "I'd give full-page space, preferred position, inthe magazine Ben Franklin founded to the guy that'd tell me what'sgoing on at this grand bolshevik headquarters. It looks to me asthough they're getting ready to blow the Octagon Hotel off the map."
He found a little confectionery shop on Wordsworth Avenue that wasstill open, and went in for a cup of hot chocolate to warm himself."The expense account on this business is going to be rather heavy," hesaid to himself. "I think I'll have to charge it up to the Daintybitsaccount. Say, old Grey Matter gives service that's DIFFERENT, don'tshe! We not only keep Chapman's goods in the public eye, but we faceall the horrors of Brooklyn to preserve his family from unlawfuloccasions. No, I don't like the company that bookseller runs with. If'nach Philadelphia' is the word, I think I'll tag along. I guess it'soff for Philadelphia in the morning!"