_ A man's figure rose from the shadows of the porch and
came forward to meet us as we swung up to the curbing.
I stifled a scream in my throat. As I shrank back into
the seat I heard the quick intake of Von Gerhard's breath
as he leaned forward to peer into the darkness. A sick
dread came upon me.
"Sa-a-ay, girl," drawled the man's voice, with a
familiar little cackling laugh in it, "sa-a-ay, girl, the
policeman on th' beat's got me spotted for a suspicious
character. I been hoofin' it up an' down this block like
a distracted mamma waitin' for her daughter t' come home
from a boat ride."
"Blackie! It's only you!"
"Thanks, flatterer," simpered Blackie, coming to the
edge of the walk as I stepped from the automobile. "Was
you expectin' the landlady?"
"I don't know just whom I expected. I--I'm nervous,
I think, and you startled me. Dr.Von Gerhard was taken
back for a moment, weren't you, Doctor?"
Von Gerhard laughed ruefully. "Frankly, yes. It is
not early. And visitors at this hour--"
"What in the world is it, Blackie?" I put in. "Don't
tell me that Norberg has been seized with one of his
fiendish inspirations at this time of night."
Blackie struck a match and held it for an instant so
that the flare of it illuminated his face as he lighted
his cigarette. There was no laughter in the deep-set
black eyes.
"What is it Blackie?" I asked again. The horror of
what Von Gerhard had told me made the prospect of any
lesser trial a welcome relief.
"I got t' talk to you for a minute. P'raps Von
Gerhard 'd better hear it, too. I telephoned you an hour
ago. Tried to get you out to the bay. Waited here ever
since. Got a parlor, or somethin', where a guy can
talk?"
I led the way indoors. The first floor seemed
deserted. The bare, unfriendly boarding-house parlor was
unoccupied, and one dim gas jet did duty as illumination.
"Bring in the set pieces," muttered Blackie, as he
turned two more gas jets flaring high. "This parlor just
yells for a funeral."
Von Gerhard was frowning. "Mrs. Orme is not well,"
he began. "She has had a shock--some startling news
concerning--"
"Her husband?" inquired Blackie, coolly. I started
up with a cry. "How could you know?"
A look of relief came into Blackie's face. "That
helps a little. Now listen, kid. An' w'en I get
through, remember I'm there with the little helpin' mitt.
Have a cigarette, Doc?"
"No," said Von Gerhard, shortly.
Blackie's strange black eyes were fastened on my
face, and I saw an expression of pity in their depths as
he began to talk.
"I was up at the Press Club to-night. Dropped in for
a minute or two, like I always do on the rounds. The
place sounded kind of still when I come up the steps, and
I wondered where all the boys was. Looked into the
billiard room--nothin' doin'. Poked my head in at the
writin' room--same. Ambled into the readin' room--empty.
Well, I steered for the dining room, an' there was the
bunch. An' just as I come in they give a roar, and I
started to investigate. Up against the fireplace, with
one hand in his pocket, and the other hanging careless
like on the mantel, stood a man--stranger t' me. He was
talkin' kind of low, and quick, bitin' off his words like a
Englishman. An' the boys, they was starin' with their
eyes, an' their mouths, and forgettin' t' smoke, an' lettin'
their pipes an' cigars go dead in their hands, while he
talked. Talk! Sa-a-ay, girl, that guy, he could talk the
leads right out of a ruled, locked form. I didn't catch his
name. Tall, thin, unearthly lookin' chap, with the whitest
teeth you ever saw, an' eyes--well, his eyes was somethin'
like a lighted pipe with a little fine ash over the red,
just waitin' for a sudden pull t' make it glow."
"Peter!" I moaned, and buried my face in my hands.
Von Gerhard put a quick hand on my arm. But I shook it
off. "I'm not going to faint," I said, through set
teeth. "I'm not going to do anything silly. I want to
think. I want to . . . Go on, Blackie."
"Just a minute," interrupted Von Gerhard. "Does he
know where Mrs. Orme is living?"
"I'm coming t' that," returned Blackie, tranquilly.
"Though for Dawn's sake I'll say right here he don't
know. I told him later, that she was takin' a vacation
up at her folks' in Michigan."
"Thank God!" I breathed.
"Wore a New York Press Club button, this guy did. I
asked one of the boys standin' on the outer edge of the
circle what the fellow's name was, but he only says:
`Shut up Black! An' listen. He's seen every darn thing
in the world.' Well, I listened. He wasn't braggin'.
He wasn't talkin' big. He was just talkin'. Seems like
he'd been war correspondent in the Boer war, and the
Spanish-American, an' Gawd knows where. He spoke low,
not usin' any big words, either, an' I thought his eyes
looked somethin' like those of the Black Cat up on the
mantel just over his head--you know what I
mean, when the electric lights is turned on
in-inside{sic} the ugly thing. Well, every time he
showed signs of stoppin', one of the boys would up with
a question, and start him goin' again. He knew
everybody, an' everything, an' everywhere. All of a
sudden one of the boys points to the Roosevelt signature
on the wall--the one he scrawled up there along with all
the other celebrities first time he was entertained by
the Press Club boys. Well this guy, he looked at the
name for a minute. `Roosevelt?' he says, slow. `Oh, yes.
Seems t' me I've heard of him.' Well, at that the boys
yelled. Thought it was a good joke, seein' that Ted had
been smeared all over the first page of everything for
years. But kid, I seen th' look in that man's eyes when
he said it, and he wasn't jokin', girl. An' it came t' me,
all of a sudden, that all the things he'd been talkin'
about had happened almost ten years back. After he'd
made that break about Roosevelt he kind of shut up, and
strolled over to the piano and began t' play. You know
that bum old piano, with half a dozen dead keys, and no
tune?
I looked up for a moment. "He could make you think
that it was a concert grand, couldn't he? He hasn't
forgotten even that?"
"Forgotten? Girl, I don't know what his
accomplishments was when you knew him, but if he was any
more fascinatin' than he is now, then I'm glad I didn't
know him. He could charm the pay envelope away from a
reporter that was Saturday broke. Somethin' seemed t'
urge me t' go up t' him an' say: `Have a game of
billiards?'
"`Don't care if I do,' says he, and swung his long
legs off the piano stool and we made for the billiard
room, with the whole gang after us. Sa-a-ay, girl, I'm
a modest violet, I am, but I don't mind mentionin' that
the general opinion up at the club is that I'm a little
wizard with the cue. Well, w'en he got through with me
I looked like little sister when big brother is tryin' t'
teach her how to hold the cue in her fingers. He just
sent them balls wherever he thought they'd look pretty.
I bet if he'd held up his thumb and finger an' said,
`jump through this!' them balls would of jumped."
Von Gerhard took a couple of quick steps in Blackie's
direction. His eyes were blue steel.
"Is this then necessary?" he asked. "All this leads
to what? Has not Mrs. Orme suffered enough, that she
should undergo this idle chatter? It is sufficient that
she knows this--this man is here. It is a time for
action, not for words."
"Action's comin' later, Doc," drawled Blackie,
looking impish. "Monologuin' ain't my specialty. I
gener'ly let the other gink talk. You never can learn
nothin' by talkin'. But I got somethin' t' say t' Dawn
here. Now, in case you're bored the least bit, w'y don't
hesitate one minnit t'--"
"Na, you are quite right, and I was hasty," said Von
Gerhard, and his eyes, with the kindly gleam in them,
smiled down upon the little man. "It is only that both
you and I are over-anxious to be of assistance to this
unhappy lady. Well, we shall see. You talked with this
man at the Press Club?"
"He talked. I listened."
"That would be Peter's way," I said, bitterly. How
he used to love to hold forth, and how I grew to long
for blessed silence--for fewer words, and
more of that reserve which means strength!"
"All this time," continued Blackie, "I didn't know
his name. When we'd finished our game of billiards he
hung up his cue, and then he turned around like
lightning, and faced the boys that were standing around
with their hands in their pockets. He had a odd little
smile on his face--a smile with no fun it, if you know
what I mean. Guess you do, maybe, if you've seen it.
"`Boys,' says he, smilin' that twisted kind of smile,
`boys, I'm lookin' for a job. I'm not much of a talker,
an' I'm only a amateur at music, and my game of billiards
is ragged. But there's one thing I can do, fellows, from
abc up to xyz, and that's write. I can write, boys, in
a way to make your pet little political scribe sound like
a high school paper. I don't promise to stick. As soon
as I get on my feet again I'm going back to New York.
But not just yet. Meanwhile, I'm going to the highest
bidder.'
"Well, you know since Merkle left us we haven't had
a day when we wasn't scooped on some political guff. `I
guess we can use you--some place,' I says, tryin' not t'
look too anxious. If your ideas on salary can take a
slump be tween New York and Milwaukee. Our salaries
around here is more what is elegantly known as a stipend.
What's your name, Bo?'
"`Name?' says he, smiling again, `Maybe it'll be
familiar t' you. That is, it will if my wife is usin'
it. Orme's my name--Peter Orme. Know a lady of that
name? Good.'
"I hadn't said I did, but those eyes of his had seen
the look on my face.
"`Friends in New York told me she was here,' he says.
`Where is she now? Got her address?' he says.
"`She expectin' you?' I asked.
"`N-not exactly,' he says, with that crooked grin.
"`Thought not,' I answered, before I knew what I was
sayin'. `She's up north with her folks on a vacation.'
"`The devil she is!' he says. `Well, in that case
can you let me have ten until Monday?'"
Blackie came over to me as I sat cowering in my
chair. He patted my shoulder with one lean brown hand.
"Now kid, you dig, see? Beat it. Go home for a week.
I'll fix it up with Norberg. No tellin' what a guy like
that's goin' t' do. Send your brother-in-law down
here if you want to make it a family affair, and between
us, we'll see this thing through."
I looked up at Von Gerhard. He was nodding approval.
It all seemed so easy, so temptingly easy. To run away!
Not to face him until I was safe in the shelter of
Norah's arms! I stood up, resolve lending me new
strength and courage.
"I am going. I know it isn't brave, but I can't be
brave any longer. I'm too tired--too old--"
I grasped the hand of each of those men who had stood
by me so staunchly in the year that was past. The words
of thanks that I had on my lips ended in dry, helpless
sobs. And because Blackie and Von Gerhard looked so
pathetically concerned and so unhappy in my unhappiness
my sobs changed to hysterical laughter, in which the two
men joined, after one moment's bewildered staring.
So it was that we did not hear the front door slam,
or the sound of footsteps in the hall. Our overstrained
nerves found relief in laughter, so that Peter Orme, a
lean, ominous figure in the doorway looked in upon a
merry scene.
I was the first to see him. And at the sight of the
emaciated figure, with its hollow cheeks and its sunken
eyes all terror and hatred left me, and I felt only a
great pity for this wreck of manhood. Slowly I went up
to him there in the doorway.
"Well, Peter?" I said.
"Well, Dawn old girl," said he "you're looking
wonderfully fit. Grass widowhood seems to agree with
you, eh?"
And I knew then that my dread dream had come true.
Peter advanced into the room with his old easy grace
of manner. His eyes glowed as he looked at Blackie.
Then he laughed, showing his even, white teeth. "Why,
you little liar!" he said, in his crisp, clear English.
"I've a notion to thwack you. What d' you mean by
telling me my wife's gone? You're not sweet on her
yourself, eh?"
Von Gerhard stifled an exclamation, and Orme turned
quickly in his direction. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Still another admirer? Jolly time you were having when
I interrupted." He stared at Von Gerhard deliberately
and coolly. A little frown of dislike came into his
face. "You're a doctor, aren't you? I knew it. I can
tell by the hands, and the eyes, and the skin, and the
smell. Lived with 'em for ten years, damn them! Dawn,
tell these fellows they're excused, will you? And by the
way, you don't seem very happy to see me?"
I went up to him then, and laid my hand on his arm.
"Peter, you don't understand. These two gentlemen have
been all that is kind to me. I am happy to know that you
are well again. Surely you do not expect me to be joyful
at seeing you. All that pretense was left out of our
lives long before your--illness. It hasn't been all
roses for me since then, Peter. I've worked until I
wanted to die with weariness. You know what this
newspaper game is for a woman. It doesn't grow easier as
she grows older and tireder."
"Oh, cut out the melodrama, Dawn," sneered Peter.
"Have either of you fellows the makin's about you?
Thanks. I'm famished for a smoke."
The worrying words of ten years ago rose
automatically to my lips. "Aren't you smoking too much,
Peter?" The tone was that of a harassed wife.
Peter stared. Then he laughed his short, mirthless
little laugh. "By Jove! Dawn, I believe you're as much
my wife now as you were ten years ago. I always said,
you know, that you would have become a first-class nagger
if you hadn't had such a keen sense of humor. That saved
you." He turned his mocking eyes to Von Gerhard.
"Doesn't it beat the devil, how these good women stick to
a man, once they're married! There's a certain dog-like
devotion about it that's touching."
There was a dreadful little silence. For the first
time in my knowledge of him I saw a hot, painful red
dyeing Blackie's sallow face. His eyes had a menace in
their depths. Then, very quietly, Von Gerhard stepped
forward and stopped directly before me.
"Dawn," he said, very softly and gently, "I retract
my statement of an hour ago. If you will give me another
chance to do as you asked me, I shall thank God for it
all my life. There is no degradation in that. To live
with this man--that is degradation. And I say you shall
not suffer it."
I looked up into his face, and it had never seemed so
dear to me. "The time for that is past," I said, my tone
as calm and even as his own. "A man like you cannot
burden himself with a derelict like me--mast gone, sails
gone, water-logged, drifting. Five years from now you'll
thank me for what I am saying now. My place is with this
other wreck--tossed about by wind and weather until we
both go down together." There came a sharp, insistent
ring at the door-bell. No answering sound came from the
regions above stairs. The ringing sounded again, louder
than before.
"I'll be the Buttons," said Blackie, and disappeared
into the hallway.
"Oh, yes, I've heard about you," came to our ears a
moment later, in a high, clear voice--a dear, beloved
voice that sent me flying to the door in an agony of
hope.
"Norah!" I cried, "Norah! Norah! Norah!" And as
her blessed arms closed about me the tears that had been
denied me before came in a torrent of joy.
"There, there!" murmured she, patting my shoulder
with those comforting mother-pats. "What's all this
about? And why didn't somebody meet me? I telegraphed.
You didn't get it? Well, I forgive you. Howdy-do,
Peter? I suppose you are Peter. I hope you haven't been
acting devilish again. That seems to be your specialty.
Now don't smile that Mephistophelian smile at me. It
doesn't frighten me. Von Gerhard, take him down to his
hotel. I'm dying for my kimono and bed. And this child
is trembling like a race-horse. Now run along, all of
you. Things that look greenery-yallery at night always
turn pink in the morning. Great Heavens! There's somebody
calling down from the second-floor landing. It sounds
like a landlady. Run, Dawn, and tell her your perfectly
respectable sister has come. Peter! Von Gerhard!
Mr. Blackie! Shoo!" _