Thus once, after a late card game, when he stepped out on a small veranda or balcony which graced the end of the hall nearest which his room was situated, and which commanded a splendid view of the sea, he found her just outside his door, alone, diaphanously attired, and very sympathetic and genial. Now that they were friends and had had this talk, there was something in her manner which always seemed to invite him on to a closer life with her without danger to himself, as she seemed to say. She would shield him against all, at her own expense. At the same time he was far—very far—from yielding. More than once he had insisted that he did not want to have anything to do with her in an affectional way, and yet here she was on this occasion, and although there might or there might not have been anything very alarming in that, he argued with himself afterward, yet since he had told her, this could be made to look as though she were trying to overpersuade him, to take him off his guard. Any guest of the hotel might have done as much (her room was somewhere near there), but Rule One, as laid down by Blount, and as hitherto practised by him, was never, under any circumstances which might be misinterpreted, to be alone with her. And besides, when he withdrew, ashe did at once, excusing himself lightly and laughingly, he saw two men turning in at a cross corridor just beyond, and one, seeing him turn back, said to the other, “It must be on the other side, Jim.” Well, there might not have been anything very significant in that, either. Any two men might accidentally turn into a hall on an end balcony of which a maiden was sitting in very diaphanous array, but still——
It was the same whenever he walked along the outer or sea wall at night, listening to the thunder of the water against the rapp which sustained the walk, and meditating on the night and the beauty of the hotel and the shabbiness of politics. Imogene was always about him when she might be with safety, as he saw it, but never under such circumstances as could be made to seem that they were alone together. Bullen, one of the two brokers, who seemed not a bad sort after his kind, came out there one night withMrs.Skelton and Imogene, and seeing Gregory, engaged him in conversation and then left Imogene to his care. Gregory, hating to appear asininely suspicious under such circumstances, was genuinely troubled as to what to do in such cases as these. Always now he was drawn to her, painfully so, and yet—— He had told her more than once that he did not wish to be alone with her in this way, and yet here she was, and she was always insisting that she did not wish him to be with her if he objected to it, and yet look at this! Her excuse always was that she could not help it, that it was purely accidental or planned by them without her knowledge. She could not avoid all accidents. When he demanded to know why she did not leave, clear out of all of this, she explained that withoutgreat injury to herself andMrs.Skelton she could not, and that besides he was safer with her there.
“What is this?” he asked on this occasion. “Another plan?” Feeling her stop and pull back a little, he felt ashamed of himself. “Well, you know what I’ve been telling you all along,” he added gruffly.
“Please don’t be so suspicious, Ed. Why do you always act so? Can’t I even walk out here? I couldn’t avoid this to-night, truly I couldn’t. Don’t you suppose I have to play a part too—for a time, anyhow? What do you expect me to do—leave at once? I can’t, I tell you. Won’t you believe me? Won’t you have a little faith in me?”
“Well, come on,” he returned crossly, as much irritated with himself as any one. “Give me your arm. Give a dog a bad name, you know,” and he walked her courteously but firmly in the direction of the principal veranda, trying to be nice to her at the same time.
“I tell you, Imogene, I can’t and I won’t do this. You must find ways of avoiding these things. If not, I’m not going to have anything to do with you at all. You say you want me to be friends with you, if no more. Very well. But how are we going to do it?” and after more arguments of this kind they parted with considerable feeling, but not altogether antagonistic, at that.
Yet by reason of all this finally, and very much to his personal dissatisfaction, he found himself limited as to his walks and lounging places almost as much as if he had been in prison. There was a little pergola at one end of the lawn with benches and flowering vines which had taken his fancy when he firstcame, and which he had been accustomed to frequent as a splendid place to walk and smoke, but not any more. He was too certain of being picked up there, or of being joined byMrs.Skelton and Imogene, only to be left with Imogene, with possibly the three gardeners or a broker as witnesses. He could not help thinking how ridiculous it all was.
He even took Imogene, he and Blount, in Blount’s car, andMrs.Skelton with them or not, as the case might be—it was all well enough so long as Blount was along—to one place or another in the immediate vicinity—never far, and always the two of them armed and ready for any emergency or fray, as they said. It seemed a risky thing to do, still they felt a little emboldened by their success so far, and besides, Imogene was decidedly attractive to both of them. Now that she had confessed her affection for Gregory she was most alluring with him, and genial to Blount, teasing and petting him and calling him the watchdog. Blount was always crowing over how well he and Gregory were managing the affair. More than once he had pointed out, even in her presence, that there was an element of sport or fascinating drama in it, that she “couldn’t fool them,” all of which was helping mightily to pass the time, even though his own and Gregory’s life, or at least their reputation, might be at stake.
“Go on, go on, is my advice,” Blount kept saying now that he was being amused. “Let her fall in love with you. Make her testify on your behalf. Get a confession in black and white, if you can. It would be a great thing in the campaign, if you were compelledto use it.” He was a most practical and political soul, for all his geniality.
Gregory could not quite see himself doing that, however. He was too fond of her. She was never quite so yielding, so close to him, as now. When he and Blount were out with her, now, the two of them ventured to rag her as to her part in all this, asking her whether the other car were handy, whether the gardeners had been properly lined up, and as to who was behind this tree or that house. “There’d be no use in going if everything wasn’t just right,” they said. She took it all in good part, even laughing and mocking them.
“Better look out! Here comes a spy now,” she would sometimes exclaim at sight of a huckster driving a wagon or a farm-hand pushing a wheelbarrow.
To both Blount and Gregory it was becoming a farce, and yet between themselves they agreed that it had its charm. They were probably tiring her backers and they would all quit soon. They hoped so, anyhow.
But then one night, just as they had concluded that there might not be so very much to this plot after all, that it was about all over, andMrs.Gregory was writing that she would soon be able to return, the unexpected happened. They were returning from one of those shorter outings which had succeeded the longer ones of an earlier day, Blount and Gregory and Imogene, and true to his idea of avoiding any routine procedure which might be seized upon by the enemy as something to expect and therefore to be used, Blount passed the main entrance and drove instead around to a side path which led to a sunk-in porchflanked on either side by high box hedges and sheltered furry pines. True also to their agreed plan of never being separated on occasions like this, they both walked to the door with Imogene, Blount locking his car so that it could not be moved during his absence. On the steps of this side porch they chaffered a little, bantering Imogene about another safe night, and how hard it was on the gardeners to keep them up so late and moving about in the dark in this fashion, when Imogene said she was tired and would have to go. She laughed at them for their brashness.
“You two think you’re very smart, don’t you?” she smiled a little wearily. “It would serve you right if something did happen to both of you one of these days—you know so much.”
“Is that so?” chuckled Blount. “Well, don’t hold any midnight conferences as to this. You’ll lose your beauty sleep if you do.”
To which Gregory added, “Yes, with all this hard work ahead of you every day, Imogene, I should think you’d have to be careful.”
“Oh, hush, and go on,” she laughed, moving toward the door.
But they had not gone more than a hundred and fifty feet down the shadowy side path before she came running after them, quite out of breath.
“Oh dear!” she called sweetly as she neared them, and they having heard her footsteps had turned. “I’m so sorry to trouble you, but some one has locked that side door, and I can’t open it or make them hear. Won’t one of you come and help me?” Then, as the two of them turned, “That’s right. I forgot. You always work in pairs, don’t you?”
Blount chortled. Gregory smiled also. They couldn’t help it. It was so ridiculous at times—on occasions like this, for instance.
“Well, you see how it is,” Gregory teased, “the door may be very tightly closed, and it might take the two of us to get it open.”
Seeing that Blount was really coming, he changed his mind. “I guess I can get it open for her. Don’t bother this time. I’ll have to be going in, anyhow,” he added. The thought came to him that he would like to be with Imogene a little while—just a few moments.
Blount left them after a cautioning look and a cheery good night. In all the time they had been together they had not done this, but this time it seemed all right. Gregory had never felt quite so close to Imogene as he did this evening. She had seemed so warm, laughing, gay. The night had been sultry, but mellow. They had tittered and jested over such trifling things, and now he felt that he would like to be with her a while longer. She had become more or less a part of his life, or seemingly so, such a genial companion. He took her arm and tucked it under his own.
“It was nice over there at the Berkeley,” he commented, thinking of an inn they had just left. “Beautiful grounds—and that music! It was delightful, wasn’t it?” They had been dancing together.
“Oh, dear,” she sighed, “the summer will soon be over, and then I’ll have to be going back, I suppose. I wish it would never end. I wish I could stay here forever, just like this, if you were here.” She stopped and looked at the treetops, taking a full breath and stretching out her arms. “And do look at those fire-flies,”she added, “aren’t they wonderful?” She hung back, watching the flashing fire-flies under the trees.
“Why not sit down here a little while?” he proposed as they neared the steps. “It isn’t late yet.”
“Do you really mean it?” she asked warmly.
“You see, I’m beginning to be so foolish as to want to trust you. Isn’t that idiotic? Yes, I’m even going to risk fifteen minutes with you.”
“I wish you two would quit your teasing, just once,” she pleaded. “I wish you would learn to trust me and leave Blount behind just once in a while, seeing that I’ve told you so often that I mean to do nothing to hurt you without telling you beforehand.”
Gregory looked at her, pleased. He was moved, a little sorry for her, and a little sorrier for himself.
In spite of himself, his wife and baby, as he now saw, he had come along a path he should not have, and with one whom he could not conscientiously respect or revere. There was no future for them together, as he well knew, now or at any other time. Still he lingered.
“Well, here we are,” he said, “alone at last. Now you can do your worst, and I have no one to protect me.”
“It would serve you right if I did,Mr.Smarty. But if I had suggested that we sit down for a minute you would have believed that the wood was full of spies. It’s too funny for words, the way you carry on. But you’ll have to let me go upstairs to change my shoes, just the same. They’ve been hurting me dreadfully, and I can’t stand them another minute. If you want to, you can come up to the other balcony,or I’ll come back here. I won’t be a minute. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” he assented, thinking that the other balcony would not be as open as this, much too private for him and her. “Certainly not. Run along. But I’d rather you came back here. I want to smoke, anyhow,” and he drew out his cigar and was about to make himself comfortable when she came back.
“But you’ll have to get this door open for me,” she said. “I forgot about that.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right.”
He approached it, looking first for the large key which always hung on one side at this hour of the night, but not seeing it, looked at the lock. The key was in it.
“I was trying before. I put it there,” she explained.
He laid hold of it, and to his surprise it came open without any effort whatsoever, a thing which caused him to turn and look at her.
“I thought you said it wouldn’t open,” he said.
“Well, it wouldn’t before. I don’t know what makes it work now, but it wouldn’t then. Perhaps some one has come out this way since. Anyhow, I’ll run up and be down right away.” She hurried up the broad flight of stairs which ascended leisurely from this entrance.
Gregory returned to his chair, amused but not conscious of anything odd or out of the way about the matter. It might well have been as she said. Doors were contrary at times, or some one might have come down and pushed it open. Why always keep doubting? Perhaps she really was in love with him, as she seemed to indicate, or mightily infatuated, and wouldnot permit any one to injure him through her. It would seem so, really. After all, he kept saying to himself, she was different now to what he had originally thought, and what she had originally been, caught in a tangle of her own emotions and compelled by him to do differently from what she had previously planned. If he were not married as happily as he was, might not something come of this? He wondered.
The black-green wall of the trees just beyond where he was sitting, the yellow light filtering from the one bowl lamp which ornamented the ceiling, the fireflies and the sawing katydids, all soothed and entertained him. He was beginning to think that politics was not such a bad business after all, his end of it at least, or being pursued even. His work thus far had yielded him a fair salary, furnishing as it had excellent copy for some of the newspapers and political organizations—the best was being reserved for the last—and was leading him into more interesting ways than the old newspaper days had, and the future, outside of what had happened in the last few weeks, looked promising enough. Soon he would be able to deal the current administration a body blow. This might raise him to a high position locally. He had not been so easily frustrated as they had hoped, and this very attractive girl had fallen in love with him.
For a while he stared down the black-green path up which they had come, and then fixed his eyes in lazy contemplation on one of the groups of stars showing above the treetops. Suddenly—or was it suddenly?—more a whisper or an idea—he seemed to become aware of something that sounded, as helistened more keenly, like a light footfall in the garden beyond the hedge. It was so very light, a mere tickle of the grass or stirring of a twig. He pricked up his ears and on the instant strained every muscle and braced himself, not that he imagined anything very dreadful was going to happen, but—were they up to their old tricks again? Was this the wonderful gardeners again? Would they never stop? Removing the cigar from his mouth and stilling the rocker in which he had been slowly moving to and fro, he decided not to stir, not even to move his hands, so well concealed was he from the bushes on either side by the arrangement of the posts, one of which was to the left of him. In this position he might see and not be seen. Did they know he was there? How had they found out? Were they always watching yet? Was she a part of it? He decided to get up and leave, but a moment later thought it better to linger just a little, to wait and see. If he left and she came back and did not find him there—could it be that there was some new trick on foot?
While he was thus swiftly meditating, he was using his ears to their utmost. Certainly there was a light footfall approaching along the other side of the hedge to the left, two in fact, for no sooner was one seemingly still, near at hand, than another was heard coming from the same direction, as light and delicate as that of a cat—spies, trappers, murderers, even, as he well knew. It was so amazing, this prowling and stalking, so desperate and cruel, that it made him a little sick. Perhaps, after all, he had better have kept Blount with him—not have lingered in this fashion. He was about to leave, a nervous thrill chasing up anddown his spine, when he heard what he took to be Imogene’s step on the stair. Then she was coming back, after all, as she had said. She was not a part of this as he had feared—or was she? Who could tell? But it would be foolish to leave now. She would see that he was wholly suspicious again, and that stage had somehow seemed to be passing between them. She had promised on more than one occasion to protect him against these others, let alone herself. Anyhow he could speak of these newcomers and then leave. He would let her know that they were hanging about as usual, always ready to take advantage of his good nature.
But now, her step having reached the bottom of the stair and ceased, she did not come out. Instead, a light that was beside the door, but out at this hour, was turned on, and glancing back he could see her shadow, or thought he could, on the wall opposite, to the right. She was doing something—what? There was a mirror below the light. She might be giving her hair a last pat. She had probably arrayed herself slightly differently for him to see. He waited. Still she did not come. Then swiftly, a sense of something treacherous came over him, a creeping sensation of being victimized and defeated. He felt, over his taut nerves, this thrilling fear which seemed to almost convey the words: Move! Hurry! Run! He could not sit still a moment longer, but, as if under a great compulsion, leaped to his feet and sprang to the door just as he thought he heard additional movements and even whispers in the dark outside. What was it? Who? Now he would see!
Inside he looked for her, and there she was, buthow different! When she had gone upstairs she had been arrayed in a light summery dress, very smart and out-door-ish, but here she was clothed in a soft clinging housedress such as one would never wear outside the hotel. And instead of being adjusted with her customary care, it was decidedly awry, as though she might have been in some disturbing and unhappy contest. The collar was slightly torn and pulled open, a sleeve ripped at the shoulder and wrist, the hang of the skirt over the hips awry, and the skirt itself torn, a ragged slit over the knee. Her face had been powdered to a dead white, or she herself was overcome with fear and distress, and the hair above it was disarranged, as though it had been shaken or pulled to one side. Her whole appearance was that of one who had been assailed in some evil manner and who had come out of the contest disarranged as to her clothes and shaken as to her nerves.
Brief as his glance was, Gregory was amazed at the transformation. He was so taken aback that he could not say anything, but just what it all meant came to him in an intuitive flash. To fly was his one thought, to get out of the vicinity of this, not to be seen or taken near it. With one bound he was away and up the easy stair three at a time, not pausing to so much as look back at her, meeting her first wide half-frightened stare with one of astonishment, anger and fear. Nor did he pause until he had reached his own door, through which he fairly jumped, locking himself in as he did so. Once inside, he stood there white and shaking, waiting for any sound which might follow, any pursuit, but hearing none, going to his mirror and mocking at himself for being such a fool as tobe so easily outwitted, taken in, after all his caution and sophisticated talk. Lord! he sighed. Lord!
And after all her protests and promises, this very evening, too, he thought. What a revelation of the unreliability and treachery of human nature! So she had been lying to him all the time, leading him on in the face of his almost boastful precautions and suspicions, and to-night, almost at the close of the season, had all but succeeded in trapping him! Then Tilney was not so easily to be fooled, after all. He commanded greater loyalty and cunning in his employees than he had ever dreamed. But what could he say to her, now that he knew what she really was, if ever he saw her again? She would just laugh at him, think him a fool, even though he had managed to escape. Would he ever want to see her again? Never, he thought. But to think that any one so young, so smooth, so seemingly affectionate, could be so ruthless, so devilishly clever and cruel! She was much more astute than either he or Blount had given her credit for.
After moving the bureau and chairs in front of the door, he called up Blount and sat waiting for him to come.
Actually, as he saw it now, she had meant to stage a seeming assault in which he would have been accused as the criminal and if they had sufficient witnesses he might have had a hard time proving otherwise. After all, he had been going about with her a great deal, he and Blount, and after he had told himself that he would not.
Her witnesses were there, close upon him, in the dark. Even though he might be able to prove his previousgood character, still, considering the suspicious fact that he had trifled with her and this treacherous situation so long, would a jury or the public believe him? A moment or two more, and she would have screamed out that he was attacking her, and the whole hotel would have been aroused. Her secret friends would have rushed forward and beaten him. Who knows?—they might even have killed him! And their excuse would have been that they were justified. Unquestionably she and her friends would have produced a cloud of witnesses. But she hadn’t screamed—there was a curious point as to that, even though she had had ample time (and she had had) and it was expected of her and intended that she should! Why hadn’t she? What had prevented her? A strange, disturbing exculpating thought began to take root in his mind, but on the instant also he did his best to crush it.
“No, no! I have had enough now,” he said to himself. “She did intend to compromise me and that is all there is to it. And in what a fashion. Horrible. No, this is the end. I will get out now to-morrow, that is one thing certain, go to my wife in the mountains, or bring her home.” Meanwhile, he sat there trembling, revolver in hand, wiping the sweat from his face, for he did not know but that even yet they might follow him here and attempt the charge of assault anyhow. Would they—could they? Just then some one knocked on his door, and Gregory, after demanding to know who it was, opened it to Blount. He quickly told him of his evening’s experience.
“Well,” said Blount, heavily and yet amusedly, “she certainly is the limit. That was a clever ruse, say what you will, a wonder. And the coolness of her!Why, she joked with us about it! I thought you were taking a chance, but not a great one. I was coming around to thinking she might be all right, and now think of this! I agree with you that it is time for you to leave. I don’t think you’ll ever get her over to your side. She’s too crafty.”
The next morning Gregory was up early and on the veranda smoking and meditating as to his exact course. He would go now, of course, and probably never see this girl with her fiend’s heart again. What a revelation! To think that there were such clever, ruthless, beautiful sirens about in the same world with such women as his wife! Contrast them—his wife, faithful, self-sacrificing, patient, her one object the welfare of those whom she truly loved, and then put on the other side of the scale this girl—tricky, shameless, an actress, one without scruples or morals, her sole object in life, apparently, to advance herself in any way that she might, and that at the expense of everybody and everything!
He wanted to leave without seeing her, but in spite of himself he sat on, telling himself that it would do no harm to have just one last talk with her in order to clear up whether she had really intended to scream or no—whether she was as evil as he really thought now, confront her with her enormous treachery and denounce her for the villainess she was. What new lie would she have on her tongue now, he wondered? Would she be able to face him at all? Would she explain? Could she? He would like to take one more look at her, or see if she would try to avoid him completely. This morning she must be meditating on how unfortunately she had failed, missed out, and onlylast night she had taken his hand and smoothed it and whispered that she was not so bad, so mean, as he thought her to be, and that some day he would find it out. And now see!
He waited a considerable time, and then sent up word that he wanted to see her. He did not want to see this thing closed in this fashion with no chance to at least berate her, to see what new lie she would tell. After a while she came down, pale and seemingly exhausted, a weary look about her eyes as though she had not slept. To his astonishment she came over quite simply to where he was sitting, and when he stood up at her approach as if to ward her off, stood before him, seemingly weaker and more hopeless than ever. What an excellent actress, he thought! He had never seen her so downcast, so completely overcome, so wilted.
“Well,” he began as she stood there, “what new lie have you fixed up to tell me this morning?”
“No lie,” she replied softly.
“What! Not a single lie? Anyhow, you’ll begin by shamming contrition, won’t you? You’re doing that already. Your friends made you do it, of course, didn’t they? Tilney was right there—andMrs.Skelton! They were all waiting for you when you went up, and told you just what to do and how it had to be done, wasn’t that it? And you had to do it, too, didn’t you?” he sneered cynically.
“I told you I didn’t have anything to say,” she answered. “I didn’t do anything—I mean I didn’t intend to—except to signal you to run, but when you burst in on me that way——” He waved an impatient hand. “Oh, all right,” she went on sadly. “Ican’t help it if you won’t believe me. But it’s true just the same. Everything you think, all except that automobile plot, and this is true, but I’m not asking you to believe me any more. I can’t help it if you won’t. It’s too late. But I had to go through my part anyhow. Please don’t look at me that way, Ed—not so hard. You don’t know how really weak I am, or what it is that makes me do these things. But I didn’t want to do anything to hurt you last night, not when I left you. And I didn’t. I hadn’t the slightest intention, really I hadn’t. Oh, well, sneer if you want to! I couldn’t help myself, though, just the same—believe it or not. Nothing was farther from my mind when I came in, only—oh, what a state my life has come to, anyhow!” she suddenly exclaimed. “You don’t know. Your life’s not a mess, like mine. People have never had you in any position where they could make you do things. That’s just the trouble—men never know women really.” (“I should say not!” he interpolated.) “But I have had to do so many things I didn’t want to do—but I’m not pleading with you, Ed, really I’m not. I know it’s all over between us and no use, only I wish I could make you believe that as bad as I am I’ve never wanted to be as bad to you as I’ve seemed. Really, I haven’t. Oh, honestly——”
“Oh, cut that stuff, please!” he said viciously. “I’m sick of it. It wasn’t to hear anything like that that I sent for you. The reason I asked you to come down here was merely to see how far you would face it out, whether you would have the nerve to come, really, that was all—oh, just to see whether you would have a new lie to spring, and I see you have. You’re a wonder,you are! But I’d like to ask you just one favor: Won’t you please let me alone in the future? I’m tired, and I can’t stand it any longer. I’m going away now. This fellow Tilney you are working for is very clever, but it’s all over. It really is. You’ll never get another chance at me if I know myself.” He started to walk off.
“Ed! Ed!” she called. “Please—just a minute—don’t go yet, Ed,” she begged. “There’s something I want to say to you first. I know all you say is true. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t said to myself a thousand times. But you don’t understand what my life has been like, what I’ve suffered, how I’ve been pushed around, and I can’t tell you now, either—not now. Our family wasn’t ever in society, asMrs.Skelton pretended—you knew that, of course, though—and I haven’t been much of anything except a slave, and I’ve had a hard time, too, terrible,” and she began dabbing her eyes. “I know I’m no good. Last night proved it to me, that’s a fact. But I hadn’t meant to do you any harm even when I came alone that way—really I didn’t. I pretended to be willing, that was all. Hear me out, Ed, anyhow. Please don’t go yet. I thought I could signal you to run without them seeing me—really I did. When I first left you the door was locked, and I came back for that sole reason. I suppose they did something to it so I couldn’t open it. There were others up there; they made me go back—I can’t tell you how or why or who—but they were all about me—they always are. They’re determined to get you, Ed, in one way or another, even if I don’t help them, and I’m telling you you’d better look out for yourself. Please do. Go away fromhere. Don’t have anything more to do with me. Don’t have anything more to do with any of these people. I can’t help myself, honestly I can’t. I didn’t want to, but—oh——” she wrung her hands and sat down wearily, “you don’t know how I’m placed with them, what it is——”
“Yes? Well, I’m tired of that stuff,” Gregory now added grimly and unbelievingly. “I suppose they told you to run back and tell me this so as to win my sympathy again? Oh, you little liar! You make me sick. What a sneak and a crook you really are!”
“Ed! Ed!” she now sobbed. “Please! Please! Won’t you understand how it is? They have watched every entrance every time we’ve gone out since I came here. It doesn’t make any difference which door you come through. They have men at every end. I didn’t know anything about it until I went upstairs. Really, I didn’t. Oh, I wish I could get out of all this! I’m so sick of it all. I told you that I’m fond of you, and I am. Oh, I’m almost crazy! I wish sometimes that I could die, I’m so sick of everything. My life’s a shabby mess, and now you’ll hate me all the time,” and she rocked to and fro in a kind of misery, and cried silently as she did so.
Gregory stared at her, amazed but unbelieving.
“Yes,” he insisted, “I know. The same old stuff, but I don’t believe it. You’re lying now, just as you have been all along. You think by crying and pretending to feel sad that you might get another chance to trick me, but you won’t. I’m out of this to-day, once and for all, and I’m through with you. There’s no use in my appealing to the police under this administration, or I’d do that. But I want to tell you this.If you follow me any longer, or any of this bunch around here, I’m going to the newspapers. There’ll be some way of getting this before the courts somewhere, and I’ll try it. And if you really were on the level and wanted to do anything, there’s a way, all right, but you wouldn’t do it if you had a chance, never, not in a million years. I know you wouldn’t.”
“Oh, Ed! Ed! You don’t know me, or how I feel, or what I’ll do,” she whimpered. “You haven’t given me a chance. Why don’t you suggest something, if you don’t believe me, and see?”
“Well, I can do that easily enough,” he replied sternly. “I can call that bluff here and now. Write me out a confession of all that’s been going on here. Let me hear you dictate it to a stenographer, and then come with me to a notary public or the district attorney, and swear to it. Now we’ll see just how much there is to this talk about caring for me,” and he watched her closely, the while she looked at him, her eyes drying and her sobs ceasing. She seemed to pause emotionally and stare at the floor in a speculative, ruminative mood. “Yes? Well, that’s different, isn’t it? I see how it is now. You didn’t think I’d have just the thing to call your bluff with, did you? And just as I thought, you won’t do it. Well, I’m onto you now, so good-day. I have your measure at last. Good-by!” and he started off.
“Ed!” she called, jumping up suddenly and starting after him. “Ed! Wait—don’t go! I’ll do what you say. I’ll do anything you want. You don’t believe I will, but I will. I’m sick of this life, I really am. I don’t care what they do to me now afterwards, but just the same I’ll come. Please don’t be so hardon me, Ed. Can’t you see—can’t you see—Ed—how I feel about you? I’m crazy about you, I really am. I’m not all bad, Ed, really I’m not—can’t you see that? Only—only——” and by now he had come back and was looking at her in an incredulous way. “I wish you cared for me a little, Ed. Do you, Ed, just a little? Can’t you, if I do this?”
He looked at her with mingled astonishment, doubt, contempt, pity, and even affection, after its kind. Would she really do it? And if she did what could he offer her in the way of that affection which she craved? Nothing, he knew that. She could never extricate herself from this awful group by which she was surrounded, her past, the memory of the things she had tried to do to him, and he—he was married. He was happy with his wife really, and could make no return. There was his career, his future, his present position. But that past of hers—what was it? How could it be that people could control another person in this way she claimed, especially scoundrels like these, and why wouldn’t she tell him about it? What had she done that was so terrible as to give them this power? Even if he did care for her what chance would he have, presuming her faithfulness itself, to either confront or escape the horde of secret enemies that was besetting him and her just now? They would be discovered and paraded forth at their worst, all the details. That would make it impossible for him to come forth personally and make the charge which would constitute him champion of the people. No, no, no! But why, considering all her efforts against him, should she come to his rescue now, or by doing soexpect him to do anything for her by way of return? He smiled at her dourly, a little sadly.
“Yes. Well, Imogene, I can’t talk to you about that now, not for the present, anyhow. You’re either one of the greatest actresses and crooks that ever lived, or you’re a little light in the upper story. At any rate, I should think that you might see that you could scarcely expect me to like you, let alone to love you, all things considered, and particularly since this other thing has not been straightened out. You may be lying right now, for all I know—acting, as usual. But even so—let’s first see what you do about this other, and then talk.”
He looked at her, then away over the sea to where some boats were coming towards them.
“Oh, Ed,” she said sadly, observing his distracted gaze, “you’ll never know how much I do care for you, although you know I must care a lot for you, to do this. It’s the very worst thing I can do for me—the end, maybe, for me. But I wish you would try and like me a little, even if it were only for a little while.”
“Well, Imogene, let’s not talk about that now,” he replied skeptically. “Not until we’ve attended to this other, anyhow. Certainly you owe me that much. You don’t know what my life’s been, either—one long up-hill fight. But you’d better come along with me just as you are, if you’re coming. Don’t go upstairs to get any hat—or to change your shoes. I’ll get a car here and you can come with me just as you are.”
She looked at him simply, directly, beatenly.
“All right, Ed, but I wish I knew how this is going to end. I can’t come back here after this, you know,if they find it out. I know I owe this to you, but, oh dear, I’m such a fool! Women always are where love is concerned, and I told myself I’d never let myself get in love any more, and now look at me!”
They went off to the city together, to his office, to a notary, to the district attorney’s office—a great triumph. She confessed all, or nearly so, how she had formerly been employed byMr.Swayne; how she had metMr.Tilney there; how, later, after Swayne had fled, Tilney had employed her in various capacities, secretary, amanuensis, how she had come to look upon him as her protector; where and how she had metMrs.Skelton, and how the latter, atMr.Tilney’s request (she was not sure, only it was an order, she said) had engaged—commanded, rather—her to do this work, though what the compulsion was she refused to say, reserving it for a later date. She was afraid, she said.
Once he had this document in his possession, Gregory was overjoyed, and still he was doubtful of her. She asked him what now, what more, and he requested her to leave him at once and to remain away for a time until he had time to think and decide what else he wished to do. There could be nothing between them, not even friendship, he reassured her, unless he was fully convinced at some time or other that no harm could come to him—his wife, his campaign, or anything else. Time was to be the great factor.
And yet two weeks later, due to a telephone message from her to his office for just one word, a few minutes, anywhere that he would suggest, they met again, this time merely for a moment, as he told himselfand her. It was foolish, he shouldn’t do it, but still—— At this interview, somehow, Imogene managed to establish a claim on his emotions which it was not easy to overcome. It was in one of the small side booths in the rather out-of-the-way Grill Parzan Restaurant in the great financial district. Protesting that it was only because she wished to see him just once more that she had done this, she had come here, she said, after having dropped instantly and completely out of the life at Triton Hall, not returning even for her wardrobe, as he understood it, and hiding away in an unpretentious quarter of the city until she could make up her mind what to do. She seemed, and said she was, much alone, distrait. She did not know what was to become of her now, what might befall her. Still, she was not so unhappy if only he would not think badly of her any more. He had to smile at her seemingly pathetic faith in what love might do for her. To think that love should turn a woman about like this! It was fascinating, and so sad. He was fond of her in a platonic way, he now told himself, quite sincerely so. Her interest in him was pleasing, even moving, “But what is it you expect of me?” he kept saying over and over. “You know we can’t go on with this. There’s ‘the girl’ and the kid. I won’t do anything to harm them, and besides, the campaign is just beginning. Even this is ridiculously foolish of me. I’m taking my career in my hands. This lunch will have to be the last, I tell you.”
“Well, Ed,” she agreed wistfully, looking at him at the very close of the meal, “you have made up your mind, haven’t you? Then you’re not going to see me any more? You seem so distant, now that we’re backin town. Do you feel so badly toward me, Ed? Am I really so bad?”
“Well, Imogene, you see for yourself how it is, don’t you?” he went on. “It can’t be. You are more or less identified with that old crowd, even though you don’t want to be. They know things about you, you say, and they certainly wouldn’t be slow to use them if they had any reason for so doing. Of course they don’t know anything yet about this confession, unless you’ve told them, and I don’t propose that they shall so long as I don’t have to use it. As for me, I have to think of my wife and kid, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt them. If ever Emily found this out it would break her all up, and I don’t want to do that. She’s been too square, and we’ve gone through too much together. I’ve thought it all over, and I’m convinced that what I’m going to do is for the best. We have to separate, and I came here to-day to tell you that I can’t see you any more. It can’t be, Imogene, can’t you see that?”
“Not even for a little while?”
“Not even for a day. It just can’t be. I’m fond of you, and you’ve been a brick to pull me out of this, but don’t you see that it can’t be? Don’t you really see how it is?”
She looked at him, then at the table for a moment, and then out over the buildings of the great city.
“Oh, Ed,” she reflected sadly, “I’ve been such a fool. I don’t mean about the confession—I’m glad I did that—but just in regard to everything I’ve done. But you’re right, Ed. I’ve felt all along that it would have to end this way, even the morning I agreed to make the confession. But I’ve been making myselfhope against hope, just because from the very first day I saw you out there I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold out against you, and now you see I haven’t. Well, all right, Ed. Let’s say good-bye. Love’s a sad old thing, isn’t it?” and she began to put on her things.
He helped her, wondering over the strange whirl of circumstances which had brought them together and was now spinning them apart.
“I wish I could do something more for you, Imogene, I really do,” he said. “I wish I could say something that would make it a little easier for you—for us both—but what would be the use? It wouldn’t really, now would it?”
“No,” she replied brokenly.
He took her to the elevator and down to the sidewalk, and there they stopped for a moment.
“Well, Imogene,” he began, and paused. “It’s not just the way I’d like it to be, but—well——” he extended his hand “——here’s luck and good-by, then.” He turned to go.
She looked up at him pleadingly.
“Ed,” she said, “Ed—wait! Aren’t you—don’t you want to——?” she put up her lips, her eyes seemingly misty with emotion.
He came back and putting his arm about her, drew her upturned lips to his. As he did so she clung to him, seeming to vent a world of feeling in this their first and last kiss, and then turned and left him, never stopping to look back, and being quickly lost in the immense mass which was swirling by. As he turned to go though he observed two separate moving-picture men with cameras taking the scene from differentangles. He could scarcely believe his senses. As he gazed they stopped their work, clapped their tripods together and made for a waiting car. Before he could really collect his thoughts they were gone—and then——
“As I live!” he exclaimed. “She did do this to me after all, or did she? And after all my feeling for her!—and all her protestations! The little crook! And now they have that picture of me kissing her! Stung, by George! and by the same girl, or by them, and after all the other things I’ve avoided! That’s intended to make that confession worthless! She did that because she’s changed her mind about me! Or, she never did care for me.” Grim, reducing thought! “Did she—could she—know—do a thing like that?” he wondered. “Is it she and Tilney, or just Tilney alone, who has been following me all this time?” He turned solemnly and helplessly away.
Now after all his career was in danger. His wife had returned and all was seemingly well, but if he proceeded with his exposures as he must, then what? This picture would be produced! He would be disgraced! Or nearly so. Then what? He might charge fraud, a concocted picture, produce the confession. But could he? Her arms had been about his neck! He had put his about her! Two different camera men had taken them from different angles! Could he explain that? Could he find Imogene again? Was it wise? Would she testify in his behalf? If so what good would it do? Would any one, in politics at least, believe a morally victimized man? He doubted it. The laughter! The jesting! The contempt! No one except his wife, and she could not help him here.
Sick at heart and defeated he trudged on now clearly convinced that because of this one silly act of kindness all his work of months had been undone and that now, never, so shy were the opposing political forces, might he ever hope to enter the promised land of his better future—not here, at least—that future to which he had looked forward with so much hope—neither he nor his wife, nor child.
“Fool! Fool!” he exclaimed to himself heavily and then—“fool! fool!” Why had he been so ridiculously sympathetic and gullible? Why so unduly interested? but finding no answer and no clear way of escape save in denial and counter charges he made his way slowly on toward that now dreary office where so long he had worked, but where now, because of this he might possibly not be able to work, at least with any great profit to himself.
“Tilney! Imogene! The Triton!” he thought—what clever scoundrels those two were—or Tilney anyhow—he could not be sure of Imogene, even now, and so thinking, he left the great crowd at his own door, that crowd, witless, vast, which Tilney and the mayor and all the politicians were daily and hourly using—the same crowd which he had wished to help and against whom, as well as himself, this little plot had been hatched, and so easily and finally so successfully worked.