CHAPTER XXAN EVENTFUL SUPPER PARTYThough Margery had closed the door Merriam could hear practically everything that went on in the adjoining room--as one commonly can in an apartment."Get the food from the ice chest, will you, Marge?" cried Jennie, in tones whose gaiety sounded genuine. "I'll set out the drinks. Let's have a cocktail to start with, Mr.----"She interrupted herself:"What's your first name?""Well," said Crockett, "one of my first names is Henry.""Then I'll call you 'Harry.' I hate last names--and 'Mister' and 'Miss'!"Merriam in his recumbent solitude made a cynically humorous grimace. She had used those very words with him--had begun the same way. Her regular formula doubtless."I'm 'Jennie,' you know," she continued. "Now, what kind of cocktail?""I'll stick to beer, please.""But I want to start with a cocktail! Have one with me! Please!"The tone was that of a teasing child. In his mind's eye Merriam could see vividly the trim pink figure (as it had pirouetted before him) and the pretty pouting face. But Crockett was apparently unmoved."Bye and bye," he said suavely. "Go ahead with your cocktail. We don't all have to drink the same things, do we? I'll start with beer and work up to cocktails.""Well, then," said Jennie, with a swift return to unpetulant gaiety, "Marge is bringing your old beer. Oh, goody! See! Cheese sandwiches and chicken sandwiches and lettuce-and-mayonnaise sandwiches!"Evidently Margery had returned well laden from the ice chest."Which kind will you have, Harry?""Cheese, thank you," said "Harry.""There! With my own fingers!"Jennie spoke with some confidence that the touch of her fingers would render bread and cheese ambrosial."Thank you," said "Harry" again, with the barest nuance of dryness in his tone. "I'll open the beer. What will you drink, Miss Milton?"Undoubtedly he was snubbing Jennie! Those blue eyes of his might perhaps be attentive enough to white arms and tight waists and pink legs when he himself had sought them out, but they were not to be distracted by any such frivolous phenomena when serious business was afoot. Jennie would fail! Merriam was sure of it.But at any rate she was not easily snubbed."Her name's Margery," she cried, consistent in her antipathy to surnames."Well, Margery?" said Crockett, complaisantly."Beer," said Margery.It was the first word Merriam had heard her speak. Her taciturnity comforted him. Jennie was a little fool, but Margery would keep her head. They would waste their time and their sandwiches and beer on Crockett, but perhaps she would foil any inquiries he might presently attempt."Don't set things in the middle of the table, Marge," cried. Jennie. "Set 'em around the edge. I'm going to do a dance for you, Harry. Wouldn't you like to see me dancing on the table?""It would be very charming," said "Harry." But the tone was merely gallant; it betokened no quickening of pulse."I must have a sandwich first, though," said Jennie quickly. Even she perceived that she was not making progress.There followed eating and drinking, accompanied by a patter of gay, disconnected sallies from Jennie, relating chiefly to the eatables and drinkables. "Harry," continually appealed to by that name, remained calmly polite. Margery, when addressed, responded in monosyllables. Ripe olives and cold tongue and mustard were produced. Jennie had her cocktail, and then another. She needed stimulant, poor girl, to keep up the gay vivacity which was meeting with so little encouragement. A second bottle of beer was opened for "Harry" and Margery.Meanwhile Merriam, still listening, was engaged also in active cogitation. He saw well enough into Crockett's thought. The latter had been momentarily convinced by his, Merriam's, well-told tale. (Margery had said he had "done fine.") But the keen, realistic mind behind those blue eyes had almost immediately rebounded and seized upon the overwhelming inherent improbability of that yarn. That there should be a man without close relationship to Norman who resembled him so strongly was in itself decidedly remarkable. That this man should encounter Norman's mistress, by pure chance, at a public dance and go home with her was even more curious. And that all this should happen, merely fortuitously, on the very night on which Senator Norman had unaccountably broken, before nine o'clock, solemn promises given with every appearance of sincerity and willingness shortly before eight, and suddenly gone over to a party for which throughout a score of years he had expressed nothing but dislike and contempt--the mathematical chances against such a series of coincidences were simply incalculable.It was a quick, clear perception of this abstract, apriori incredibility that Merriam had read in Crockett's final glance before Jennie playfully pushed him out of the bedroom. Doubtless he was still revolving it in his mind as he sat at Jennie's table, responding with merely mechanical politeness to her rather pitiful attempts to pique his interest and desire. Well, let him revolve it. The story all hung together. What could he make of it? Little enough, probably, with the data he had now. But that was why he was lingering here at Jennie's--in the hope of getting more data. After another cocktail or two Jennie would not know what she was saying. Then he would begin to hint, to ask questions. Could Margery keep her quiet? A single word might give him a clue.Merriam became conscious of a wish that Rockwell were at hand to help. But that wish instantly gave birth to further fears. Rockwell had said he would telephone from the hotel as soon as they arrived. That message might come any minute now--with Crockett there! Whereabouts in the flat was the telephone? He had not noticed it anywhere. He looked about the bedroom. But it was not there, of course.Ought not that message to have come already? Surely they should be at the hotel by now unless something had gone wrong. He suddenly envisaged all the perils of discovery, which he had hitherto been too much occupied to realise, involved in the transportation of the sick Senator across the roof--down through the other trapdoor into the other hall--down three flights of stairs--along two blocks of city street to the taxi. They might so easily have been noted by some of Thompson's, or Crockett's, watchers, and followed to the hotel. Then they would be caught indeed--in the very fact. Verily, the paths of the impostor are perilous!Then Merriam's mind was brought sharply back from these alarming excursions to his own scarcely less dangerous situation. Crockett had for the first time volunteered a remark. It was just such a remark as Merriam had anticipated."Nice boy you have in there."His voice was slightly lowered but only slightly. Perhaps he did not realise the perfection of the acoustic properties of flats."Very nice boy!" agreed Jennie cordially.Merriam noticed with alarm just the faintest touch of the effect of cocktails in her accent. How many had the girl had by now?"So you met him at Reiberg's, did you?" Crockett pursued."Reiberg's?" said Jennie doubtfully, "Reiberg's?""Yes," Margery cut in. "Picked him up there and brought him home. I call it a shame. Jen's never done that sort of thing before.""I expect you took to him because he looks so much like Senator Norman," suggested Crockett, rather skillfully persistent."Yes," said Jennie, "looks very like George. But he'snotGeorge. He's John!""John what?" asked Crockett mildly."John Blank!" said Margery sharply. "He told you he didn't want to give his name. Jen, keep your face shut!""I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said Crockett."Have a cocktail now!" said Jennie, quite unabashed.Crockett at last agreed to a cocktail, and it was fixed for him, and the conversation, if such it could be called, again concerned itself with incidents to the consumption of food and drink.Thank God for Margery! She had won the first trick. But Crockett would try again. And Jennie would grow more and more difficult to handle. Aside from the danger, Merriam hated to think of Jennie's getting really drunk. Could not Margery get rid of the man? The trouble was he had stayed at Jennie's invitation. Could not he, Merriam, do something?He felt under the bedclothes until he found the revolver. He drew it out and looked at it. But of what use was it, really? Would Crockett blench at the mere pointing of a pistol? He doubted it. It was loaded only with blanks, Jennie had said. And he dared not fire it anyway. The occupants of a dozen adjoining flats would hear the report. People would come bursting in. The police would be called. Well, was not that the solution? To have Crockett caught in that flat by the police in connection with a shooting? Perhaps, but not a nice one for himself. Not to be tried except as the very last resort. Besides, would it serve their purpose? A public exposure of Crockett would do no good. What they needed was a threat of possible exposure to hold over him--not the exposure itself.If only Jennie could succeed in her purpose of enticing him into some display of amorousness, of which he and Margery might be witnesses. It would be pleasant to "have the goods on him," to use Jennie's phrase. Why did she not dance for him? But Crockett would not be enticed. He might, however, pretend to be. He might decide to "play up" in that way if through Margery's watchfulness he could get nothing out of Jennie without doing so.But now there flashed into Merriam's mind a doubt of the efficacy of Jennie's scheme even if they should succeed in carrying it out. Suppose Crockett should catch hold of her after her dance and try to kiss her, and she should scream, and he should rush out with his revolver, and Crockett should be intimidated thereby into ignominious exit? That would be very good fun, but would it give them any hold over him in case of need? He could deny it. Against his word the only witnesses would be Jennie and Margery, whose testimony would not be taken very seriously, and himself--a nobody and an impostor. No wonder Margery, the clear-headed, had disapproved. They ought to get more tangible evidence--something in writing or a photograph.He suddenly remembered the camera on the table in the living room, and recalled also a certain college episode, a rather lurid incident of his fraternity days, in which a camera and a girl and a priggish freshman had figured. It suggested to him a decidedly picturesque and venturesome procedure against Crockett. But he shook his head. It was too violent, too rough. All very well for a parcel of boys with a freshman. But with Mr. Crockett, the mighty capitalist! No! Hardly!Just then he heard Jennie say:"Get your mandolin, Marge. I'm going to dance now.""Fine!" said Crockett. But he was still cool, amused.Margery made no reply, but she evidently complied. In a moment there came a preliminary strumming on the mandolin."Help me up, Harry," said Jennie."With pleasure," said "Harry."He was helping her to mount on to the table."Move that siphon off," Jennie said. "I might kick it over."There was gay excitement in her voice. Cocktails had made her indifferent to appreciation. As for Merriam, the conscience of a realist compels me to report a sense of disappointment: he wanted to see the dance."Now sit down again," cried Jennie. "You can see better."At this frankness Crockett laughed. There was the sound of his dropping into a chair."Now, Marge!" Jennie commanded.But Margery did not strike into her tune and the dance did not begin, for at that instant the telephone rang.It was in the dining room, then!There was a quick movement of chairs and feet. Then Crockett's voice said, "Hello!"He was answering it!"That's not fair!" cried Margery. "It's not for you!""Keep off!" said Crockett in a quick, stern whisper, and then, evidently into the telephone, "Yes! Yes!"Merriam leapt out of bed, revolver in hand, in his pajamas and flung open the door.Crockett was standing by the wall at the telephone. Jennie, in her ballet costume, stood transfixed in the center of the table. Margery was rushing at Crockett."You--you spy!" she screamed.Merriam, in the door, pointed his revolver."Drop it!" he cried, meaning the telephone receiver. "Hands up!"But Crockett, catching Margery by the shoulder with his free hand, held her powerfully at arm's length and only smiled at Merriam's revolver."Why?" he asked into the telephone, and added quickly, "Nothing! These girls are romping so!"But his words could hardly be heard for Margery's screaming. He dropped the receiver and put the hand thus freed over the mouthpiece."Shut up!" he said fiercely to Margery, and gave her shoulder a violent wrench."O--oh!" she groaned.Something had to be done instantly, for Crockett was turning back to the telephone. With a sort of impulsive desperation Merriam threw the revolver at Crockett's head. The man dodged, and the revolver struck the opposite wall and fell to the floor. But the movement took him away from the telephone, and Merriam, rushing forward, added the impetus of a straight-arm thrust, which sent him staggering against the table.Then Merriam caught up the receiver."Hello! Hello!" he cried into the mouthpiece.For an instant no reply. Then Central's voice said sweetly:"Your party's hung up." And added, in tones of unwonted interest: "What's the row there? Shall I send the police?""No, no!" said Merriam. "There's nothing wrong here."He hung up and turned to face the room.Crockett was still leaning against the table. Margery was clutching the arm which a moment before had gripped her, and Jennie had jumped down from the table and caught hold of his other arm. But the financier appeared very little ruffled. He even smiled at Merriam, not unpleasantly."Well, Mr. Merriam," he said, "suppose we sit down and talk it over--if these ladies will release me, that is.""Mr. Merriam!" Then the messagehadbeen from Rockwell, and Crockett had got the name after all. How much more had he learned? Merriam was quite willing to talk in the hope of finding that out."Very well," he said. "Let him go, Margery,--Jennie.""I'll dance for both of you!" cried Jennie, whose cheeks were decidedly flushed."No!" said Merriam. "Sit down, please.""Sit down, Jen!" seconded Margery, viciously."Oh, well!" Jennie plopped petulantly into a chair.The others sat, Merriam and Crockett across from each other. The financier looked steadily at the younger man."Miss Milton was right," he began quietly. "The message was not for me. It was for you, Mr. Merriam. I think I ought to give it to you.""If you please," said Merriam."It was that you should 'come at once to the hotel.'"Merriam managed not to blink."What hotel?" he asked.For an instant Crockett weighed his answer. Then:"The De Soto," he said.But Merriam had read the meaning of the momentary pause: Rockwell had not named the hotel--he wouldn't, of course--Crockett was guessing."De Soto?" he asked, looking as puzzled as he could. "I thought it might be from the Nestor House." (He was using the first name that popped into his head.)"Oh," said Crockett lightly, "Mr. Rockwell would be much more likely to telephone from the De Soto."Merriam was startled, but he could only go on as he had begun."Rockwell?" he echoed, as if still further mystified."Come, come," said Crockett, "I recognised his voice. I know it perfectly.""No friend of mine," Merriam persisted. There might be no advantage in continued denial, but certainly there could be none in admission."Really, Mr. Merriam, hadn't you better tell me the whole story? You'll not find me ungenerous. I'll let you down easy.""The whole story?" said Merriam. "Thought I told you my whole story in the bedroom a while back. What more do you want?"Crockett shrugged his shoulders. He smiled blandly:"What I want is another cocktail, I guess. You'll join me, Mr. Merriam? You've had nothing all evening. It must have been dull for you, lying in there, while these pretty ladies have been entertaining me so charmingly. I understood you were sick, you know," he added slyly, "or I should have insisted on your coming out long ago." Then, quickly, so as to give Merriam no chance to reply: "Jennie, my dear, let's have your pretty dance now. We were interrupted.""No," said Jennie, rather sleepily, "I'm tired.""Have a cocktail," said Crockett promptly. "Then you'll be all right again."Jennie looked up with interest. "Well," she said.Crockett rose to mix the drinks."You'll have one, too, Mr. Merriam?"But during the brief interchange between Crockett and Jennie, Merriam had been doing some quick thinking--wild thinking, perhaps. The plan suggested by his college memory, which before he had rejected as too violent, his mind now seized upon and was eagerly shaping to the present situation.When Crockett addressed him, he rose."No," he said. "I'm tired too. Iamsick." He simulated a slight dizziness. "I'll go lie down again. If you'll excuse me."He moved to the bedroom door, affecting uncertainty in his steps. As he passed into the bedroom he called: "Margery!"CHAPTER XXIFLASH LIGHTSIn a moment Margery had followed him."Shut the door." He barely formed the words with his lips.She obeyed."That camera--in the sitting room," he whispered. "Can you take a flash light with it?""Sure," came the whispered answer. "That's what we use it for.""Have you any rope?""Rope?" echoed Margery's whisper. "There's a clothesline on the back porch.""Bring it to me!"Margery looked at him. But a high degree of mutual confidence had been established between these two. She nodded."Right away?""Yes.Hemustn't see it.""No."She opened the door and closed it behind her. Merriam sat on the edge of the bed, thinking hard."He wants a drink of water," he heard her say to the others in the dining room.With one ear, so to speak--that is to say, with so much of his mind as could attend to one ear,--he listened to Crockett and Jennie, engaged still in the business of mixing drinks. With the rest of his mind he was making plans, with a rapidity and confident daring that astonished himself.In a moment Margery had returned. In her right hand she carried a glass of water. Her left hand, hanging at her side, seemed to hold carelessly only a newspaper, folded in two. But as soon as she had closed the door she produced from between the folds a fairly stout clothesline, loosely coiled.Merriam tried its toughness and surveyed its length."All right," he whispered. "Now go back. Drink with them. Jennie must dance. And have Crockett sit where he was before."This was at the end of the table nearest the telephone and nearest also to Merriam's door.Again Margery looked at him. She glanced at the rope. But she asked no questions. Without a word she went out and closed the door behind her. Admirable girl!Merriam's next actions were rather remarkable. He felt hastily in the pockets of his trousers, which lay over a chair, and produced a penknife. With this instrument he cut off four pieces of rope, each about four feet long. This left about ten feet in the main piece. With this main piece he proceeded to manufacture a slip noose, carefully testing both the strength of the slipknot and the readiness of its slipping. Then he gathered the noose and the four other pieces of rope into his left hand and rose and stood before the door, drawing a deep breath and listening.He had, of course, kept track more or less of the happenings in the other room. Margery, on returning, had demanded another glass of beer and had yielded to insistence that she have a cocktail instead. Then she had suggested that Jennie dance. Jennie had already been assisted on to the table again, and Margery was picking tentatively at her mandolin."R-ready!" cried Jennie, a little unsteadily.Merriam stepped back and turned the button of his electric bulb, so as to have no light behind him.Then, as Margery struck into a bright quick tune, he softly opened the door with his right hand, holding his left hand with the ropes behind him, and stood looking at Jennie, whose pink toes had begun to patter merrily on the polished table.Jennie saw him and laughed to him, her eyes and her cheeks bright."Come in, Johnny," she cried, and for a second one pink leg pointed straight at him as she turned."Couldn't resist, eh?" chuckled Crockett, who was leaning back in the heavy chair Merriam had wished him to occupy. He was apparently really pleased for the first time. "Don't blame you," he added. "Come on in."His eyes, quite unsuspicious, returned to the circling skirts and the flushed face bobbing above them.This was Merriam's moment.He stepped quickly behind Crockett's chair, dropped the short pieces of rope on the floor, raised the noose with both hands, slipped it over the man's head, and pulled it suddenly tight about his neck.Crockett emitted a strangled oath and started to rise, but Merriam with one hand on his shoulder thrust him down again, and with the other tightened the noose about his throat."Sit still," he threatened, "or I'll choke you!"Margery's tune had stopped abruptly, and Jennie stood still on the table, staring down in frightened bewilderment."Margery!" Merriam commanded, "take one of these pieces of rope and tie his arm to the arm of the chair."The arm referred to was immediately raised away from the chair, but the noose tightened with a further jerk, and the arm fell limply back. In fact Crockett was gasping and choking so desperately that Merriam was compelled to loosen the rope a little."Take it quietly," he cautioned, with perhaps a trifle more of youthful ferocity and exultation than the romantic hero should exhibit, "or I'll hang you sitting down!"Margery, obedient as usual, had stepped quickly forward, picked up a piece of rope, and begun to bind the arm nearest her to the chair.Crockett, somewhat eased, though still gasping a little, turned his head to look at Merriam. His first involuntary startled alarm was passing. The blue eyes looked steadily at the young man. A trace of their earlier cool amusement returned. He looked away again and sat perfectly still, acquiescent.Merriam, however, remained warily at his post in charge of the slip noose while Margery tied both arms."Now tie his feet to the legs of the chair," said Merriam. "Jennie, you can help. Jump down and tie his right foot while Margery ties the left."But Jennie, still on the table, shook her pretty head."I'd rather dance," she said, and regardless of the lack of music she folded her arms and began to do the steps of the Highland Fling."Let her alone," said Margery, who had gone down on her knees and was at work on the left foot.Jennie tossed her head and quickened the tempo of her dance, keeping her eyes on Crockett, who, though still swallowing with difficulty, affected to regard her with interest.Margery crossed to Crockett's other side and knelt again. In a moment she completed her labours and rose, her cheeks a little reddened by her posture and vigorous work."There!" she said, looking straight at Merriam, as if she were a soldier reporting to his officer."Thank you very much," said the young man.He loosened the noose, leaving it still in place, however, about Crockett's neck. Then he stepped to the side of the table and held out his arms to Jennie."Come!" he said, "I'll lift you down."She stood still. "You don't like my dancing," she pouted. "Helikes it!" She pointed at Crockett, who, twisting his eased neck about, smiled."I'll like lifting you down," said Merriam.Jennie smiled and approached the edge of the table. For a moment he held a rosy, fragrant burden in his arms, and in that moment Jennie raised her face to his as if to be kissed. She was really rather incorrigible.On a different occasion the young man might have been irresistibly tempted (he had not thought of Mollie June for a long time), but just now he was no more in a mood to be enticed than Crockett had been an hour before.He set her lightly and quickly on her feet."There!" he said.She made a face at him and dropped petulantly into a chair.Merriam turned to face his well-trussed victim.The said victim was now sufficiently at ease to open the conversation."Well, Mr. Merriam," he said, "you've managed it rather cleverly. Very neat, in fact. You have me a prisoner all right. But what's the big idea? It seems to me you've only given yourself away. Before I only knew your name and that you were in connection with Rockwell and that your presence was desired at some hotel--the Nestor House, we'll say, to avoid argument, Now it's very clear that you are deeply implicated in the extraordinary events that have been happening. Otherwise you would have had no sufficient motive for this rather violent, not to say melodramatic, line of conduct." He glanced, with a smile, at his pinioned arms.This point of view, however, had already occurred to Merriam; and the answer was that Crockett, knowing already of a direct, confidential connection between Senator Norman's double and Senator Norman's new manager, would in a few hours at most be able to work out the whole truth of the situation.So he only answered his victim's smile with another smile equally good-humoured."I don't think I've given away anything much," he said. "And I felt it was time to take out a bit of insurance.""Insurance?" repeated Crockett."Yes. Insurance that you will treat me with that generosity which you half promised a while ago.""I promised nothing!" said Crockett, the smile fading out of his eyes. "I refuse to give any promise whatever.""That's all right," said Merriam, still good-humouredly. "In fact, I shouldn't count much on promises anyway."You're married, I believe?" he continued to Crockett.Crockett did not reply."And a church member, I presume? And a member of a number of highly respectable clubs?"He paused and waited, smiling.The smile was too much for Crockett. After a moment of holding in, he said sharply:"Well?""Well, a gentleman who is all those things ought to be careful how he accepts entertainment from unattached young ladies, like our pretty Jennie here--in their flats at midnight." And then to Margery, "Go and get your camera ready."When I was in college," Merriam continued, "the fraternity I belonged to initiated a freshman who turned out to be goody-goody. He wouldn't play cards, wouldn't dance, wouldn't go to the theater, wouldn't smoke. Even refused coffee and tea. Above all he simply wouldn't look at a girl. All he would do was study and go to class--and to church and Sunday School. To make it worse he was a handsome cuss with loads of money and his own motor car. He got on the fellows' nerves. Then a show came to town with a girl in the chorus that two of the fellows knew. So a bunch of us went to the show, and afterwards the two fellows who knew the girl brought her back to the chapter house in a taxi, with an opera cloak over the black tights which she wore in the last act. We gave her a little supper, and then four of us went upstairs to get the good little boy. He hadn't gone to the show. He was studying his trigonometry. We didn't have to lasso him, of course, because there were four of us. When we brought him into the dining room, the girl stood up and dropped off her cloak. It was worth something to see his face. Then we tied him into a chair, just the same way you're tied now. We set a beer bottle and half-emptied glass handy, and the girl sat on his knees and cocked one black leg over the arm of the chair and put one hand under his chin and put her lips to his cheek. And then we took the flash.""Oh, goody!" cried Jennie, ecstatically pleased by this climax. But Crockett by this time was staring at the story-teller with really venomous eyes.Merriam avoided those eyes and addressed himself to Jennie, the appreciative."That was all," he said. "We gave the girl a twenty-dollar bill and the roses and sent her back to the hotel in the taxi. We could only show the picture to a few chaps, of course. One of the fellows did finally tell the story to one girl whom a lot of us knew and showed her the picture. It worked fine. The good little boy's reputation was made, and he had to live up to it, to the extent at least of becoming human. He became one of the finest fellows we ever had. The year after he graduated," Merriam finished reflectively, "he married the one girl who had seen the picture, and the chapter gave it to her with their wedding present."During this sequel Margery had returned with the camera and with some flash-light powder, for which she had had to search, in a dust pan."Damn you!" cried the great financier virulently, straining helplessly at the ropes which confined his arms and legs. "If you think it will do you any good to take an indecent picture of me----""Cut that!" said Merriam sharply. "Do you want me to tighten that noose again?"Crockett subsided with a snort that might have made whole boards of directors tremble."Indecent!" said Merriam, enjoying himself hugely, as if he were still in college. "Certainly not! Only pretty. Very pretty. Come, Jennie! How about the pose?""I'll show you!" cried Jennie. Half dancing on her toes, with skirts fluttering, and eyes sparkling the more, it seemed, because of Crockett's bitterly hostile regard, she tripped around the table and stood by his side, facing the same way he faced. She plucked the rose from her hair and stuck it behind Crockett's ear. It drooped grotesquely over his thin hair. Then, laughing at the rose, she put one bare arm about his neck, her hand extending beyond his face on the other side."Give me a cocktail glass in that hand!" she cried. "Never mind what's in it. Anything!"Merriam filled a glass from the siphon and put it into the hand referred to.Then Jennie raised a pink leg and put it on the table, stretching straight in front of herself and Crockett towards the center of the board, amid the plates and glasses and crumpled napkins. She put her other hand under Crockett's chin as if about to tickle him, dropped her face close to his, and looked at Merriam with eyes of laughing inquiry."Fine!" said Merriam. "Are you ready, Margery?"Margery was already pointing the camera."Not yet," she said.He addressed himself to the victim:"Mr. Crockett, you can, of course, wink or twist your face to spoil the picture. If you do, I'll simply have to choke you a little before we try again. So you'd better look pleasant!""Ready!" said Margery.Merriam set the dust pan, with the little heap of powder in the center of it, on a plate on the sideboard beside Margery, lit a match, and, with a last glance at Jennie's extraordinary pose and laughing face, switched off the lights and touched the powder.CHAPTER XXIIVIRTUE TRIUMPHANTImmediately after the flash Merriam switched on the lights, and his eyes sought Crockett. Apparently the man had faced the camera stolidly--a grotesque figure surmounted by the dangling flower and enveloped as it were in Jennie's acrobatic pose."All right!" said Merriam, coughing in the smoke which filled the small room. "But we'll take one more. You never can be sure of a single film. Got some more powder, Margery?""Yes," said Margery, who had set the camera down and stepped aside to open a window. She passed into the sitting room.Jennie gingerly removed her leg from the table and her arm from about Crockett's neck. In the latter process she spilled a little of the water from the cocktail glass--unintentionally, let us hope--on Crockett's head."Damn!"Jennie, quite regardless, eased herself on her two legs again."Gee!" she said. "I couldn't have held that pose much longer. In another second I'd have split at the waist!"Merriam laughed. "Look what you've done," he said.Jennie caught up a napkin and mopped the face and head."Sorry!" she cried sympathetically. "I didn't mean to wet him! There!" and she dropped a light kiss on the cleansed cheek and smiled her rosiest smile at the trussed victim.Crockett answered Jennie's smile with a glare that might have caused a panic on the Stock Exchange.It had no very serious effect, however, on Jennie. She shrugged her pretty shoulders and daintily chucked him under the chin."That isn't a nice look!" she said.At this point Margery returned with a package of flash-light powder and began to pour a second little pile on the dust pan."Take your pose!" said Merriam to Jennie."Not that one," said Jennie. "It's too hard. Look!"She picked the rose from above Crockett's ear and stepped behind his chair. Then she stooped till her chin rested on the top of his head and let her two bare arms drop past his cheeks till her hands came together on his shirt front. In her hands she held the rose pointing upward so that the blossom was just below his chin.The effect was distinctly comical--Crockett's dour countenance, with its angry eyes, framed above by Jennie's pretty laughing face, resting on the very top of his head, at the sides by her round white arms, and below by the rose under his chin."Fine!" Merriam laughed. "It's better than the other. Ready, Margery?""Yes."A second time he switched off the lights and touched a match to the powder.Again Crockett had not even blinked so far as Merriam could judge. Well satisfied, the latter spoke to Margery:"Put that camera away, will you, please, where it could not be easily found except by yourself."Margery picked up the camera and departed into the kitchenette.Then, "Let him alone, Jennie," he said. For Jennie had left the back of Crockett's chair and perched herself on the edge of the table beside him and was flicking him under the chin with the rose."All right," she said. "He's no fun. He's very cross!"She slid off the table and dropped into a chair, transferring her attention to Merriam, as though in the hope that he might be less obdurately disposed.But Merriam addressed himself to the other man."Now, Mr. Crockett," he said, "this little supper party and entertainment are over, I believe. If you wish to leave, I shall be glad to release you and permit you to do so."Crockett's reply was a sound between a grunt and a growl.Merriam walked around the table and picked up the revolver where it had fallen by the wall."I don't believe," he continued, "that it will do you any good to start any rough-house when I have freed you. If you do, Jennie and Margery will scream, and I shall fire this revolver. That will bring in neighbours and probably the police, whose testimony would thus be added to that of the pictures we have taken as to your manner of spending your evening. You will understand that while I shall have those pictures developed the first thing in the morning I shall not show them to any one except Mr. Rockwell unless you compel me to do so."By this time Crockett had become articulate."Compel you to do so?" he repeated stiffly. "May I ask what you mean by that?""Well," said Merriam, "you see I am an enthusiastic supporter of the Reform League as led by Mr. Rockwell and Senator Norman and Mayor Black. You, I understand, are opposed to the League and its policies. So long as your opposition relates itself only to those policies and involves only open public discussion of their merits, I shall, of course, have no reason to interfere. But if your opposition should take the form of any personal attack, on Senator Norman, let us say, I should feel compelled to retaliate by a personal attack upon you, making use of these pictures we have taken to-night and the story that will readily weave itself about them. Do you see?""See!" Crockett cried. "Of course I see. Blackmail! How much do you want for that camera? Name your price.""It has no cash price," returned Merriam steadily. "Now if I release you, will you leave quietly?"For a long moment the financier stared at the younger man who had worsted him. Then:"At this moment," he said acridly, "I certainly have no other desire than to get away from this place and to be rid of my present companionship."Merriam was tempted to laugh at the stilted dignity of this phraseology, but he managed to keep a straight face."Very well," he said. "Margery,"--for Margery had just returned from the kitchenette minus the camera,--"help me untie him, will you? Feet first."Margery and Merriam knelt for a moment at the two sides of Crockett's chair and released his two legs. Then Merriam again put the table between himself and Crockett and stood waiting, revolver in hand, leaving to Margery the work of unbinding the arms. He was afraid that his own near presence to Crockett when the latter found himself free might tempt him irresistibly to personal assault.In the moment during which he stood waiting he became conscious that Jennie, half reclining in the chair into which she had dropped, was smiling at him--a pretty, confidential smile which he did not understand.But he had no time to consider Jennie just then, for Margery had completed her work. The last piece of rope fell on the floor, and she lifted the slip noose from about Crockett's neck. He had been rather tightly bound and did not instantly have the full use of his limbs. Margery took his arm to assist him."My coat and hat!" he said, not looking at Merriam."In the sitting room," said Margery.He turned himself in that direction and in a jerky walk, with some support from Margery, moved towards and through the portières. He had disdained to cast so much as a glance at either Merriam or Jennie.Jennie resented this. "Old crosspatch!" she cried.Merriam stepped hastily to the portières and peeped through. Crockett had caught up his light overcoat and silk hat from a chair. He refused Margery's offer to help him on with his coat and made, already moving more naturally, for the hall door. Margery followed him. The door opened--closed again. Margery returned from the hallway.Merriam advanced through the portières into the sitting room."Well!" he exclaimed."Well!" returned Margery, with a dry laugh--the first laugh Merriam had heard from her during the whole evening."See what he does in the street," she added. "Raise the shade about a foot. I'll turn off the light."Merriam acted promptly on this excellent hint. In a moment the room was in darkness, and he was kneeling by the window watching the street below, which was fairly well illuminated from arc lights at either corner. Part way down the block on the other side of the roadway a car, presumably a taxi, stood by the curb, with a man walking up and down beside it. Jennie's flat was too high up for Merriam to be able to see the sidewalk immediately below. If, therefore, Crockett on emerging from the building merely walked away, he would see nothing. But this was hardly likely.Presently, sure enough, the taxi showed sudden signs of life. The man hastily got in, and the car rolled forward, crossing the street diagonally, and stopped directly below Merriam's window. Crockett had come out and signalled it. A moment later it shot away down the block and turned the corner.Merriam still knelt by the window, peering into the street. He was looking for signs of any remaining watchers, for he had his own exit to think of: Rockwell had wanted him to "come at once to the hotel."As he knelt there in the dark he suddenly sensed a warm fragrant body close beside his own. A pair of soft bare arms slipped about his neck."It was fine!" Jennie's voice whispered in his ear. "You're a nice boy!"She had crept up behind him in the dark. Margery must have left the room.For a moment Merriam knelt in fascinated silent rigidity. When he moved it was only to turn his head. And the turning of his head brought his face close to Jennie's, which, with the dim light from the street upon it, smiled at him with a kind of saucy tenderness. It was the face of a pretty child, with the lure of womanhood added, but with nothing else of maturity in it.Her lips puckered. "Kiss me!" she whispered.As he still only stared she quickly leaned forward a couple of inches more--her lips rested on his.I am very much afraid that for an instant Merriam's lips responded. He half turned on one knee. His arms involuntarily closed about the seductive little body. He felt the short silk skirts crush deliciously against his legs.And then a grotesque sort of composite picture of all the things he ought to remember, including Rockwell, Norman, Mollie June, and the members of the Riceville School Board, rushed across his mind. He struggled to his feet, pushing Jennie not roughly--away."Margery!" he called."Yes?" came Margery's voice from the dining room."Turn on the lights!"By the time Margery had stepped through the portières and pushed the switch Jennie had thrown herself face downward on the davenport, crying."Nobody loves me!" she sobbed.Margery, standing by the switch, looked from Merriam at the window to Jennie on the couch and back again. Her expression indicated no bewilderment--rather a humorously cynical comprehension. She knew her Jennie.At any rate, that glance steadied the young man. After meeting it for a moment he turned to Jennie. Poor little girl! He felt that he understood her perfectly. There was a side of himself that was like that. Only he had other sides powerfully developed, and Jennie had no other sides. All his young chivalry rose up, in alliance with the missionary spirit of the teacher. He desired greatly to help her.After an instant's hesitation he crossed the room and drew up a chair beside the davenport."Jennie," he said, "listen!""Go away!" said Jennie."Iamgoing away in a minute. But I want to tell you something first."Her sobbing ceased, but he waited till she asked:"Well, what?""Thereissomebody who loves you."Hopefully Jennie raised her head and turned her face to him--still oddly pretty in spite of the tear-streaked rouge. But after a moment's look she said resentfully:"It isn't you!""No," said Merriam, "it isn't I."Even at this rate the discussion was apparently interesting enough to rouse her. With a sudden movement she curled herself up, half sitting, half reclining, in a corner of the davenport, and smoothed the crumpled skirts over her knees."Do you mean George?" she asked."No," said Merriam, "I mean Mr. Simpson.""MisterSimpson!" She laughed derisively, not prettily at all. "A waiter!""Listen, Jennie. Simpson is a fine fellow, with lots of brains and lots of courage. He has shown both within the last twenty-four hours. He's rendered a very important service to Mr. Rockwell and Senator Norman, and they're going to give him a lot of money for a reward. I don't know how much--maybe five thousand dollars. And he's crazy about you. He'll marry you in a minute if you'll let him, in spite of--George. He'll take you away on a fine trip--anywhere you want to go. And afterwards he'll set up in a business of his own--a café or whatever he likes. You'll have a real home and a husband and money enough and friends. It'll be a lot better than this stuff--like to-night. It really would. Think it over, Jennie!"On the last words he rose."He's right!" cried Margery, who had drawn near."Shut up, Marge!" said Jennie.But Merriam, looking closely at her with the sharp eye of a teacher to see whether or not his point had gone home, was satisfied. He was sure that she would think it over in spite of herself.He looked at his watch. It was ten minutes after one."I must telephone at once to Mr. Rockwell in Senator Norman's rooms at the Hotel De Soto," he said to Margery."Yes," said Margery. "The hotel number is Madison 1-6-8-1.""Thank you."Without looking again at Jennie, he went to the telephone in the dining room. In a moment he had the hotel and had asked to be connected with Senator Norman's rooms. It was Rockwell's voice that answered, "Hello!""This is Merriam.""Thank God! Where are you?""At Jennie's.""Still? What the devil was the ruction there when I called up?""I'll tell you about that later. Do you still want me to come to the hotel?""Certainly. As fast as you can.""You got the Senator back all right?""Yes. But he's pretty sick. Caught more cold, I guess. Hobart's worried about him. You'll have to stay over another day all right. And make that speech."Merriam groaned."Listen!" said Rockwell. "You'll have to be mighty careful about getting into the hotel. You aren't Senator Norman just now, you know. The Senator has already returned to the hotel, openly, with me, three hours ago, and is sick in his rooms. We'll have to smuggle you in without any one's seeing you. But I have a plan--or rather Simpson has. You'd better come down on the Elevated. That'll be better than a taxi this time. No chauffeur to tell on you. Be sure you get away from there without being followed. Margery'll show you a way. Get off at Madison and Wabash. Simpson will meet you there and smuggle you in the back way. You can come right away?""Yes.""Then for Heaven's sake come! We'll talk after you get here." He hung up.Merriam stared at the instrument as he slowly replaced his own receiver. Another day. "And make that speech!" Would this kaleidoscopic, unreal phantasm of adventures never end? When would he wake up? He perceived suddenly that he was very tired. But he must brace up sufficiently to get back to the hotel. There doubtless he would be permitted to go to bed and snatch at least a few hours' sleep--before the speech!He turned and found Margery standing between the portières, watching him."Well!" she said sharply."I must--must--get dressed," he finished, realising for the first time since he had leapt out of bed with his revolver to divert Crockett from the telephone that he was attired only in pajamas. "Rockwell says you can tell me a way to get away from here without being seen by any watchers.""Yes," said Margery. "Go and dress. I'll attend to that."He went into the bedroom and began to get into his clothes, working mechanically.Presently he was ready--though with such a loose and rakish bow as he had never before disported--and emerged into the dining room.There he encountered a cheering spectacle. Margery was seated at the table between a coffee percolator, efficiently bubbling, and an electric toaster. She was buttering hot toast. Jennie sat at one side of the table. A pale blue kimono now covered her dancing costume, and she looked quite demure. She raised her eyes almost shyly as Merriam entered."Well!" he exclaimed. "This is grand. Margery, you certainly are a trump!"Margery's rather sallow cheeks flushed slightly. "You'll need it," was all she said, and proceeded to fill a cup for him from the percolator."How do I get away?" Merriam asked as he sipped."Back stairs," said Margery succinctly. "I'll show you."Munching toast, he enquired the whereabouts of the nearest Elevated station and was duly instructed.He had a second cup of the black coffee. Margery did not take any and would not give Jennie any."We go straight to bed," she said decidedly.From time to time Merriam cast an unwilling glance at Jennie, sitting downcast and out of it on Margery's other side. About the third time Jennie intercepted his glance and answered it with a small wistful smile. After that he would not look again. In a few minutes, of course, this very early breakfast--it was somewhere around two o'clock--was over, and Merriam rose."I must be off," he said, and hesitated. "I am very much indebted to both of you for--all the help you have given me this evening!" (Inwardly he abused himself for his stiltedness; it was like his telling Mollie June he was glad to have helped her in algebra.)Jennie rose too and came around the table towards him. She had suddenly summoned back a smile, and she moved daintily inside the blue kimono. Above the stalk of that straight, demure, Japanesy blue, her head nodded like a bright blossom--with its fair, wavy hair, blue eyes, and childishly rounded cheeks, still gaudy with the remains of rouge.She tripped forward till she was almost touching Merriam, stopped, and suddenly raised her eyes to him."Kiss me good-bye!" she said.We may suspect that it was a sort of point of honour with Jennie to retrieve the rebuff she had received in the sitting room. As for Merriam, in spite of the obvious deliberateness of this assault, I am not perfectly sure I could answer for him if it had not been for Margery. But Margery's presence saved him from serious temptation.Instead of stooping to kiss the lifted lips he caught Jennie's hand that hung at her side, and, stepping back half a step, raised the hand and kissed it.Sometimes the inspirations of youth are singularly happy. It seems to me that this one was of that kind: it involved neither yielding nor discourtesy.Jennie was somewhat taken aback, yet she could not be hurt by a gesture so gallant."Good-bye, Jennie," he said. "I hope to be the best man at your wedding before long.""Oh!" she said, and withdrew her hand. Then: "Good-bye!"After a moment's hesitation and a last quite shy glance at Merriam she suddenly gathered up the skirts of the kimono and ran into the sitting room."Are you ready?" said Margery dryly."My coat. I haven't a hat," he added, remembering that under Rockwell's instructions he had left this article in the taxi in which they had come to the flat."Your coat's in the hall," said Margery. "I can get you a hat too."The dining room was connected directly with the hallway, and in a moment Margery had returned with Merriam's light overcoat and with a man's derby--probably Norman's property."Thank you," said Merriam, taking them."This way," she replied, moving towards the kitchenette.In the kitchenette he was momentarily surprised to see Margery opening a tin box labeled "Bread." Was she going to equip him with a lunch? But she drew out, not a loaf, but the camera."You'll want to take this along," she said."Indeed, yes."Then he followed her out on to the back porch, where earlier--ages ago, it seemed--he had deposited the stepladder."Now," said Margery, "you go down these stairs and diagonally across the court to that archway. See?" She pointed. "That brings you out on the other side of the block. Nobody will be looking for you there. And the Elevated station is three and one-half blocks west. Put on your hat and coat. I'll hold it.""Thank you so much," said Merriam, as the coat slipped on.Then he turned, took off his hat again, and held out his hand."Good-bye, Margery," he said, shaking hands heartily. "Thank you--for everything."For a moment they looked at each other with mutual respect.Then Merriam said:"I'm going to send Simpson around to see Jennie. Shan't I?""You can try it," said Margery. "Good-bye."She went back into the kitchenette and closed the door.
CHAPTER XX
AN EVENTFUL SUPPER PARTY
Though Margery had closed the door Merriam could hear practically everything that went on in the adjoining room--as one commonly can in an apartment.
"Get the food from the ice chest, will you, Marge?" cried Jennie, in tones whose gaiety sounded genuine. "I'll set out the drinks. Let's have a cocktail to start with, Mr.----"
She interrupted herself:
"What's your first name?"
"Well," said Crockett, "one of my first names is Henry."
"Then I'll call you 'Harry.' I hate last names--and 'Mister' and 'Miss'!"
Merriam in his recumbent solitude made a cynically humorous grimace. She had used those very words with him--had begun the same way. Her regular formula doubtless.
"I'm 'Jennie,' you know," she continued. "Now, what kind of cocktail?"
"I'll stick to beer, please."
"But I want to start with a cocktail! Have one with me! Please!"
The tone was that of a teasing child. In his mind's eye Merriam could see vividly the trim pink figure (as it had pirouetted before him) and the pretty pouting face. But Crockett was apparently unmoved.
"Bye and bye," he said suavely. "Go ahead with your cocktail. We don't all have to drink the same things, do we? I'll start with beer and work up to cocktails."
"Well, then," said Jennie, with a swift return to unpetulant gaiety, "Marge is bringing your old beer. Oh, goody! See! Cheese sandwiches and chicken sandwiches and lettuce-and-mayonnaise sandwiches!"
Evidently Margery had returned well laden from the ice chest.
"Which kind will you have, Harry?"
"Cheese, thank you," said "Harry."
"There! With my own fingers!"
Jennie spoke with some confidence that the touch of her fingers would render bread and cheese ambrosial.
"Thank you," said "Harry" again, with the barest nuance of dryness in his tone. "I'll open the beer. What will you drink, Miss Milton?"
Undoubtedly he was snubbing Jennie! Those blue eyes of his might perhaps be attentive enough to white arms and tight waists and pink legs when he himself had sought them out, but they were not to be distracted by any such frivolous phenomena when serious business was afoot. Jennie would fail! Merriam was sure of it.
But at any rate she was not easily snubbed.
"Her name's Margery," she cried, consistent in her antipathy to surnames.
"Well, Margery?" said Crockett, complaisantly.
"Beer," said Margery.
It was the first word Merriam had heard her speak. Her taciturnity comforted him. Jennie was a little fool, but Margery would keep her head. They would waste their time and their sandwiches and beer on Crockett, but perhaps she would foil any inquiries he might presently attempt.
"Don't set things in the middle of the table, Marge," cried. Jennie. "Set 'em around the edge. I'm going to do a dance for you, Harry. Wouldn't you like to see me dancing on the table?"
"It would be very charming," said "Harry." But the tone was merely gallant; it betokened no quickening of pulse.
"I must have a sandwich first, though," said Jennie quickly. Even she perceived that she was not making progress.
There followed eating and drinking, accompanied by a patter of gay, disconnected sallies from Jennie, relating chiefly to the eatables and drinkables. "Harry," continually appealed to by that name, remained calmly polite. Margery, when addressed, responded in monosyllables. Ripe olives and cold tongue and mustard were produced. Jennie had her cocktail, and then another. She needed stimulant, poor girl, to keep up the gay vivacity which was meeting with so little encouragement. A second bottle of beer was opened for "Harry" and Margery.
Meanwhile Merriam, still listening, was engaged also in active cogitation. He saw well enough into Crockett's thought. The latter had been momentarily convinced by his, Merriam's, well-told tale. (Margery had said he had "done fine.") But the keen, realistic mind behind those blue eyes had almost immediately rebounded and seized upon the overwhelming inherent improbability of that yarn. That there should be a man without close relationship to Norman who resembled him so strongly was in itself decidedly remarkable. That this man should encounter Norman's mistress, by pure chance, at a public dance and go home with her was even more curious. And that all this should happen, merely fortuitously, on the very night on which Senator Norman had unaccountably broken, before nine o'clock, solemn promises given with every appearance of sincerity and willingness shortly before eight, and suddenly gone over to a party for which throughout a score of years he had expressed nothing but dislike and contempt--the mathematical chances against such a series of coincidences were simply incalculable.
It was a quick, clear perception of this abstract, apriori incredibility that Merriam had read in Crockett's final glance before Jennie playfully pushed him out of the bedroom. Doubtless he was still revolving it in his mind as he sat at Jennie's table, responding with merely mechanical politeness to her rather pitiful attempts to pique his interest and desire. Well, let him revolve it. The story all hung together. What could he make of it? Little enough, probably, with the data he had now. But that was why he was lingering here at Jennie's--in the hope of getting more data. After another cocktail or two Jennie would not know what she was saying. Then he would begin to hint, to ask questions. Could Margery keep her quiet? A single word might give him a clue.
Merriam became conscious of a wish that Rockwell were at hand to help. But that wish instantly gave birth to further fears. Rockwell had said he would telephone from the hotel as soon as they arrived. That message might come any minute now--with Crockett there! Whereabouts in the flat was the telephone? He had not noticed it anywhere. He looked about the bedroom. But it was not there, of course.
Ought not that message to have come already? Surely they should be at the hotel by now unless something had gone wrong. He suddenly envisaged all the perils of discovery, which he had hitherto been too much occupied to realise, involved in the transportation of the sick Senator across the roof--down through the other trapdoor into the other hall--down three flights of stairs--along two blocks of city street to the taxi. They might so easily have been noted by some of Thompson's, or Crockett's, watchers, and followed to the hotel. Then they would be caught indeed--in the very fact. Verily, the paths of the impostor are perilous!
Then Merriam's mind was brought sharply back from these alarming excursions to his own scarcely less dangerous situation. Crockett had for the first time volunteered a remark. It was just such a remark as Merriam had anticipated.
"Nice boy you have in there."
His voice was slightly lowered but only slightly. Perhaps he did not realise the perfection of the acoustic properties of flats.
"Very nice boy!" agreed Jennie cordially.
Merriam noticed with alarm just the faintest touch of the effect of cocktails in her accent. How many had the girl had by now?
"So you met him at Reiberg's, did you?" Crockett pursued.
"Reiberg's?" said Jennie doubtfully, "Reiberg's?"
"Yes," Margery cut in. "Picked him up there and brought him home. I call it a shame. Jen's never done that sort of thing before."
"I expect you took to him because he looks so much like Senator Norman," suggested Crockett, rather skillfully persistent.
"Yes," said Jennie, "looks very like George. But he'snotGeorge. He's John!"
"John what?" asked Crockett mildly.
"John Blank!" said Margery sharply. "He told you he didn't want to give his name. Jen, keep your face shut!"
"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said Crockett.
"Have a cocktail now!" said Jennie, quite unabashed.
Crockett at last agreed to a cocktail, and it was fixed for him, and the conversation, if such it could be called, again concerned itself with incidents to the consumption of food and drink.
Thank God for Margery! She had won the first trick. But Crockett would try again. And Jennie would grow more and more difficult to handle. Aside from the danger, Merriam hated to think of Jennie's getting really drunk. Could not Margery get rid of the man? The trouble was he had stayed at Jennie's invitation. Could not he, Merriam, do something?
He felt under the bedclothes until he found the revolver. He drew it out and looked at it. But of what use was it, really? Would Crockett blench at the mere pointing of a pistol? He doubted it. It was loaded only with blanks, Jennie had said. And he dared not fire it anyway. The occupants of a dozen adjoining flats would hear the report. People would come bursting in. The police would be called. Well, was not that the solution? To have Crockett caught in that flat by the police in connection with a shooting? Perhaps, but not a nice one for himself. Not to be tried except as the very last resort. Besides, would it serve their purpose? A public exposure of Crockett would do no good. What they needed was a threat of possible exposure to hold over him--not the exposure itself.
If only Jennie could succeed in her purpose of enticing him into some display of amorousness, of which he and Margery might be witnesses. It would be pleasant to "have the goods on him," to use Jennie's phrase. Why did she not dance for him? But Crockett would not be enticed. He might, however, pretend to be. He might decide to "play up" in that way if through Margery's watchfulness he could get nothing out of Jennie without doing so.
But now there flashed into Merriam's mind a doubt of the efficacy of Jennie's scheme even if they should succeed in carrying it out. Suppose Crockett should catch hold of her after her dance and try to kiss her, and she should scream, and he should rush out with his revolver, and Crockett should be intimidated thereby into ignominious exit? That would be very good fun, but would it give them any hold over him in case of need? He could deny it. Against his word the only witnesses would be Jennie and Margery, whose testimony would not be taken very seriously, and himself--a nobody and an impostor. No wonder Margery, the clear-headed, had disapproved. They ought to get more tangible evidence--something in writing or a photograph.
He suddenly remembered the camera on the table in the living room, and recalled also a certain college episode, a rather lurid incident of his fraternity days, in which a camera and a girl and a priggish freshman had figured. It suggested to him a decidedly picturesque and venturesome procedure against Crockett. But he shook his head. It was too violent, too rough. All very well for a parcel of boys with a freshman. But with Mr. Crockett, the mighty capitalist! No! Hardly!
Just then he heard Jennie say:
"Get your mandolin, Marge. I'm going to dance now."
"Fine!" said Crockett. But he was still cool, amused.
Margery made no reply, but she evidently complied. In a moment there came a preliminary strumming on the mandolin.
"Help me up, Harry," said Jennie.
"With pleasure," said "Harry."
He was helping her to mount on to the table.
"Move that siphon off," Jennie said. "I might kick it over."
There was gay excitement in her voice. Cocktails had made her indifferent to appreciation. As for Merriam, the conscience of a realist compels me to report a sense of disappointment: he wanted to see the dance.
"Now sit down again," cried Jennie. "You can see better."
At this frankness Crockett laughed. There was the sound of his dropping into a chair.
"Now, Marge!" Jennie commanded.
But Margery did not strike into her tune and the dance did not begin, for at that instant the telephone rang.
It was in the dining room, then!
There was a quick movement of chairs and feet. Then Crockett's voice said, "Hello!"
He was answering it!
"That's not fair!" cried Margery. "It's not for you!"
"Keep off!" said Crockett in a quick, stern whisper, and then, evidently into the telephone, "Yes! Yes!"
Merriam leapt out of bed, revolver in hand, in his pajamas and flung open the door.
Crockett was standing by the wall at the telephone. Jennie, in her ballet costume, stood transfixed in the center of the table. Margery was rushing at Crockett.
"You--you spy!" she screamed.
Merriam, in the door, pointed his revolver.
"Drop it!" he cried, meaning the telephone receiver. "Hands up!"
But Crockett, catching Margery by the shoulder with his free hand, held her powerfully at arm's length and only smiled at Merriam's revolver.
"Why?" he asked into the telephone, and added quickly, "Nothing! These girls are romping so!"
But his words could hardly be heard for Margery's screaming. He dropped the receiver and put the hand thus freed over the mouthpiece.
"Shut up!" he said fiercely to Margery, and gave her shoulder a violent wrench.
"O--oh!" she groaned.
Something had to be done instantly, for Crockett was turning back to the telephone. With a sort of impulsive desperation Merriam threw the revolver at Crockett's head. The man dodged, and the revolver struck the opposite wall and fell to the floor. But the movement took him away from the telephone, and Merriam, rushing forward, added the impetus of a straight-arm thrust, which sent him staggering against the table.
Then Merriam caught up the receiver.
"Hello! Hello!" he cried into the mouthpiece.
For an instant no reply. Then Central's voice said sweetly:
"Your party's hung up." And added, in tones of unwonted interest: "What's the row there? Shall I send the police?"
"No, no!" said Merriam. "There's nothing wrong here."
He hung up and turned to face the room.
Crockett was still leaning against the table. Margery was clutching the arm which a moment before had gripped her, and Jennie had jumped down from the table and caught hold of his other arm. But the financier appeared very little ruffled. He even smiled at Merriam, not unpleasantly.
"Well, Mr. Merriam," he said, "suppose we sit down and talk it over--if these ladies will release me, that is."
"Mr. Merriam!" Then the messagehadbeen from Rockwell, and Crockett had got the name after all. How much more had he learned? Merriam was quite willing to talk in the hope of finding that out.
"Very well," he said. "Let him go, Margery,--Jennie."
"I'll dance for both of you!" cried Jennie, whose cheeks were decidedly flushed.
"No!" said Merriam. "Sit down, please."
"Sit down, Jen!" seconded Margery, viciously.
"Oh, well!" Jennie plopped petulantly into a chair.
The others sat, Merriam and Crockett across from each other. The financier looked steadily at the younger man.
"Miss Milton was right," he began quietly. "The message was not for me. It was for you, Mr. Merriam. I think I ought to give it to you."
"If you please," said Merriam.
"It was that you should 'come at once to the hotel.'"
Merriam managed not to blink.
"What hotel?" he asked.
For an instant Crockett weighed his answer. Then:
"The De Soto," he said.
But Merriam had read the meaning of the momentary pause: Rockwell had not named the hotel--he wouldn't, of course--Crockett was guessing.
"De Soto?" he asked, looking as puzzled as he could. "I thought it might be from the Nestor House." (He was using the first name that popped into his head.)
"Oh," said Crockett lightly, "Mr. Rockwell would be much more likely to telephone from the De Soto."
Merriam was startled, but he could only go on as he had begun.
"Rockwell?" he echoed, as if still further mystified.
"Come, come," said Crockett, "I recognised his voice. I know it perfectly."
"No friend of mine," Merriam persisted. There might be no advantage in continued denial, but certainly there could be none in admission.
"Really, Mr. Merriam, hadn't you better tell me the whole story? You'll not find me ungenerous. I'll let you down easy."
"The whole story?" said Merriam. "Thought I told you my whole story in the bedroom a while back. What more do you want?"
Crockett shrugged his shoulders. He smiled blandly:
"What I want is another cocktail, I guess. You'll join me, Mr. Merriam? You've had nothing all evening. It must have been dull for you, lying in there, while these pretty ladies have been entertaining me so charmingly. I understood you were sick, you know," he added slyly, "or I should have insisted on your coming out long ago." Then, quickly, so as to give Merriam no chance to reply: "Jennie, my dear, let's have your pretty dance now. We were interrupted."
"No," said Jennie, rather sleepily, "I'm tired."
"Have a cocktail," said Crockett promptly. "Then you'll be all right again."
Jennie looked up with interest. "Well," she said.
Crockett rose to mix the drinks.
"You'll have one, too, Mr. Merriam?"
But during the brief interchange between Crockett and Jennie, Merriam had been doing some quick thinking--wild thinking, perhaps. The plan suggested by his college memory, which before he had rejected as too violent, his mind now seized upon and was eagerly shaping to the present situation.
When Crockett addressed him, he rose.
"No," he said. "I'm tired too. Iamsick." He simulated a slight dizziness. "I'll go lie down again. If you'll excuse me."
He moved to the bedroom door, affecting uncertainty in his steps. As he passed into the bedroom he called: "Margery!"
CHAPTER XXI
FLASH LIGHTS
In a moment Margery had followed him.
"Shut the door." He barely formed the words with his lips.
She obeyed.
"That camera--in the sitting room," he whispered. "Can you take a flash light with it?"
"Sure," came the whispered answer. "That's what we use it for."
"Have you any rope?"
"Rope?" echoed Margery's whisper. "There's a clothesline on the back porch."
"Bring it to me!"
Margery looked at him. But a high degree of mutual confidence had been established between these two. She nodded.
"Right away?"
"Yes.Hemustn't see it."
"No."
She opened the door and closed it behind her. Merriam sat on the edge of the bed, thinking hard.
"He wants a drink of water," he heard her say to the others in the dining room.
With one ear, so to speak--that is to say, with so much of his mind as could attend to one ear,--he listened to Crockett and Jennie, engaged still in the business of mixing drinks. With the rest of his mind he was making plans, with a rapidity and confident daring that astonished himself.
In a moment Margery had returned. In her right hand she carried a glass of water. Her left hand, hanging at her side, seemed to hold carelessly only a newspaper, folded in two. But as soon as she had closed the door she produced from between the folds a fairly stout clothesline, loosely coiled.
Merriam tried its toughness and surveyed its length.
"All right," he whispered. "Now go back. Drink with them. Jennie must dance. And have Crockett sit where he was before."
This was at the end of the table nearest the telephone and nearest also to Merriam's door.
Again Margery looked at him. She glanced at the rope. But she asked no questions. Without a word she went out and closed the door behind her. Admirable girl!
Merriam's next actions were rather remarkable. He felt hastily in the pockets of his trousers, which lay over a chair, and produced a penknife. With this instrument he cut off four pieces of rope, each about four feet long. This left about ten feet in the main piece. With this main piece he proceeded to manufacture a slip noose, carefully testing both the strength of the slipknot and the readiness of its slipping. Then he gathered the noose and the four other pieces of rope into his left hand and rose and stood before the door, drawing a deep breath and listening.
He had, of course, kept track more or less of the happenings in the other room. Margery, on returning, had demanded another glass of beer and had yielded to insistence that she have a cocktail instead. Then she had suggested that Jennie dance. Jennie had already been assisted on to the table again, and Margery was picking tentatively at her mandolin.
"R-ready!" cried Jennie, a little unsteadily.
Merriam stepped back and turned the button of his electric bulb, so as to have no light behind him.
Then, as Margery struck into a bright quick tune, he softly opened the door with his right hand, holding his left hand with the ropes behind him, and stood looking at Jennie, whose pink toes had begun to patter merrily on the polished table.
Jennie saw him and laughed to him, her eyes and her cheeks bright.
"Come in, Johnny," she cried, and for a second one pink leg pointed straight at him as she turned.
"Couldn't resist, eh?" chuckled Crockett, who was leaning back in the heavy chair Merriam had wished him to occupy. He was apparently really pleased for the first time. "Don't blame you," he added. "Come on in."
His eyes, quite unsuspicious, returned to the circling skirts and the flushed face bobbing above them.
This was Merriam's moment.
He stepped quickly behind Crockett's chair, dropped the short pieces of rope on the floor, raised the noose with both hands, slipped it over the man's head, and pulled it suddenly tight about his neck.
Crockett emitted a strangled oath and started to rise, but Merriam with one hand on his shoulder thrust him down again, and with the other tightened the noose about his throat.
"Sit still," he threatened, "or I'll choke you!"
Margery's tune had stopped abruptly, and Jennie stood still on the table, staring down in frightened bewilderment.
"Margery!" Merriam commanded, "take one of these pieces of rope and tie his arm to the arm of the chair."
The arm referred to was immediately raised away from the chair, but the noose tightened with a further jerk, and the arm fell limply back. In fact Crockett was gasping and choking so desperately that Merriam was compelled to loosen the rope a little.
"Take it quietly," he cautioned, with perhaps a trifle more of youthful ferocity and exultation than the romantic hero should exhibit, "or I'll hang you sitting down!"
Margery, obedient as usual, had stepped quickly forward, picked up a piece of rope, and begun to bind the arm nearest her to the chair.
Crockett, somewhat eased, though still gasping a little, turned his head to look at Merriam. His first involuntary startled alarm was passing. The blue eyes looked steadily at the young man. A trace of their earlier cool amusement returned. He looked away again and sat perfectly still, acquiescent.
Merriam, however, remained warily at his post in charge of the slip noose while Margery tied both arms.
"Now tie his feet to the legs of the chair," said Merriam. "Jennie, you can help. Jump down and tie his right foot while Margery ties the left."
But Jennie, still on the table, shook her pretty head.
"I'd rather dance," she said, and regardless of the lack of music she folded her arms and began to do the steps of the Highland Fling.
"Let her alone," said Margery, who had gone down on her knees and was at work on the left foot.
Jennie tossed her head and quickened the tempo of her dance, keeping her eyes on Crockett, who, though still swallowing with difficulty, affected to regard her with interest.
Margery crossed to Crockett's other side and knelt again. In a moment she completed her labours and rose, her cheeks a little reddened by her posture and vigorous work.
"There!" she said, looking straight at Merriam, as if she were a soldier reporting to his officer.
"Thank you very much," said the young man.
He loosened the noose, leaving it still in place, however, about Crockett's neck. Then he stepped to the side of the table and held out his arms to Jennie.
"Come!" he said, "I'll lift you down."
She stood still. "You don't like my dancing," she pouted. "Helikes it!" She pointed at Crockett, who, twisting his eased neck about, smiled.
"I'll like lifting you down," said Merriam.
Jennie smiled and approached the edge of the table. For a moment he held a rosy, fragrant burden in his arms, and in that moment Jennie raised her face to his as if to be kissed. She was really rather incorrigible.
On a different occasion the young man might have been irresistibly tempted (he had not thought of Mollie June for a long time), but just now he was no more in a mood to be enticed than Crockett had been an hour before.
He set her lightly and quickly on her feet.
"There!" he said.
She made a face at him and dropped petulantly into a chair.
Merriam turned to face his well-trussed victim.
The said victim was now sufficiently at ease to open the conversation.
"Well, Mr. Merriam," he said, "you've managed it rather cleverly. Very neat, in fact. You have me a prisoner all right. But what's the big idea? It seems to me you've only given yourself away. Before I only knew your name and that you were in connection with Rockwell and that your presence was desired at some hotel--the Nestor House, we'll say, to avoid argument, Now it's very clear that you are deeply implicated in the extraordinary events that have been happening. Otherwise you would have had no sufficient motive for this rather violent, not to say melodramatic, line of conduct." He glanced, with a smile, at his pinioned arms.
This point of view, however, had already occurred to Merriam; and the answer was that Crockett, knowing already of a direct, confidential connection between Senator Norman's double and Senator Norman's new manager, would in a few hours at most be able to work out the whole truth of the situation.
So he only answered his victim's smile with another smile equally good-humoured.
"I don't think I've given away anything much," he said. "And I felt it was time to take out a bit of insurance."
"Insurance?" repeated Crockett.
"Yes. Insurance that you will treat me with that generosity which you half promised a while ago."
"I promised nothing!" said Crockett, the smile fading out of his eyes. "I refuse to give any promise whatever."
"That's all right," said Merriam, still good-humouredly. "In fact, I shouldn't count much on promises anyway.
"You're married, I believe?" he continued to Crockett.
Crockett did not reply.
"And a church member, I presume? And a member of a number of highly respectable clubs?"
He paused and waited, smiling.
The smile was too much for Crockett. After a moment of holding in, he said sharply:
"Well?"
"Well, a gentleman who is all those things ought to be careful how he accepts entertainment from unattached young ladies, like our pretty Jennie here--in their flats at midnight." And then to Margery, "Go and get your camera ready.
"When I was in college," Merriam continued, "the fraternity I belonged to initiated a freshman who turned out to be goody-goody. He wouldn't play cards, wouldn't dance, wouldn't go to the theater, wouldn't smoke. Even refused coffee and tea. Above all he simply wouldn't look at a girl. All he would do was study and go to class--and to church and Sunday School. To make it worse he was a handsome cuss with loads of money and his own motor car. He got on the fellows' nerves. Then a show came to town with a girl in the chorus that two of the fellows knew. So a bunch of us went to the show, and afterwards the two fellows who knew the girl brought her back to the chapter house in a taxi, with an opera cloak over the black tights which she wore in the last act. We gave her a little supper, and then four of us went upstairs to get the good little boy. He hadn't gone to the show. He was studying his trigonometry. We didn't have to lasso him, of course, because there were four of us. When we brought him into the dining room, the girl stood up and dropped off her cloak. It was worth something to see his face. Then we tied him into a chair, just the same way you're tied now. We set a beer bottle and half-emptied glass handy, and the girl sat on his knees and cocked one black leg over the arm of the chair and put one hand under his chin and put her lips to his cheek. And then we took the flash."
"Oh, goody!" cried Jennie, ecstatically pleased by this climax. But Crockett by this time was staring at the story-teller with really venomous eyes.
Merriam avoided those eyes and addressed himself to Jennie, the appreciative.
"That was all," he said. "We gave the girl a twenty-dollar bill and the roses and sent her back to the hotel in the taxi. We could only show the picture to a few chaps, of course. One of the fellows did finally tell the story to one girl whom a lot of us knew and showed her the picture. It worked fine. The good little boy's reputation was made, and he had to live up to it, to the extent at least of becoming human. He became one of the finest fellows we ever had. The year after he graduated," Merriam finished reflectively, "he married the one girl who had seen the picture, and the chapter gave it to her with their wedding present."
During this sequel Margery had returned with the camera and with some flash-light powder, for which she had had to search, in a dust pan.
"Damn you!" cried the great financier virulently, straining helplessly at the ropes which confined his arms and legs. "If you think it will do you any good to take an indecent picture of me----"
"Cut that!" said Merriam sharply. "Do you want me to tighten that noose again?"
Crockett subsided with a snort that might have made whole boards of directors tremble.
"Indecent!" said Merriam, enjoying himself hugely, as if he were still in college. "Certainly not! Only pretty. Very pretty. Come, Jennie! How about the pose?"
"I'll show you!" cried Jennie. Half dancing on her toes, with skirts fluttering, and eyes sparkling the more, it seemed, because of Crockett's bitterly hostile regard, she tripped around the table and stood by his side, facing the same way he faced. She plucked the rose from her hair and stuck it behind Crockett's ear. It drooped grotesquely over his thin hair. Then, laughing at the rose, she put one bare arm about his neck, her hand extending beyond his face on the other side.
"Give me a cocktail glass in that hand!" she cried. "Never mind what's in it. Anything!"
Merriam filled a glass from the siphon and put it into the hand referred to.
Then Jennie raised a pink leg and put it on the table, stretching straight in front of herself and Crockett towards the center of the board, amid the plates and glasses and crumpled napkins. She put her other hand under Crockett's chin as if about to tickle him, dropped her face close to his, and looked at Merriam with eyes of laughing inquiry.
"Fine!" said Merriam. "Are you ready, Margery?"
Margery was already pointing the camera.
"Not yet," she said.
He addressed himself to the victim:
"Mr. Crockett, you can, of course, wink or twist your face to spoil the picture. If you do, I'll simply have to choke you a little before we try again. So you'd better look pleasant!"
"Ready!" said Margery.
Merriam set the dust pan, with the little heap of powder in the center of it, on a plate on the sideboard beside Margery, lit a match, and, with a last glance at Jennie's extraordinary pose and laughing face, switched off the lights and touched the powder.
CHAPTER XXII
VIRTUE TRIUMPHANT
Immediately after the flash Merriam switched on the lights, and his eyes sought Crockett. Apparently the man had faced the camera stolidly--a grotesque figure surmounted by the dangling flower and enveloped as it were in Jennie's acrobatic pose.
"All right!" said Merriam, coughing in the smoke which filled the small room. "But we'll take one more. You never can be sure of a single film. Got some more powder, Margery?"
"Yes," said Margery, who had set the camera down and stepped aside to open a window. She passed into the sitting room.
Jennie gingerly removed her leg from the table and her arm from about Crockett's neck. In the latter process she spilled a little of the water from the cocktail glass--unintentionally, let us hope--on Crockett's head.
"Damn!"
Jennie, quite regardless, eased herself on her two legs again.
"Gee!" she said. "I couldn't have held that pose much longer. In another second I'd have split at the waist!"
Merriam laughed. "Look what you've done," he said.
Jennie caught up a napkin and mopped the face and head.
"Sorry!" she cried sympathetically. "I didn't mean to wet him! There!" and she dropped a light kiss on the cleansed cheek and smiled her rosiest smile at the trussed victim.
Crockett answered Jennie's smile with a glare that might have caused a panic on the Stock Exchange.
It had no very serious effect, however, on Jennie. She shrugged her pretty shoulders and daintily chucked him under the chin.
"That isn't a nice look!" she said.
At this point Margery returned with a package of flash-light powder and began to pour a second little pile on the dust pan.
"Take your pose!" said Merriam to Jennie.
"Not that one," said Jennie. "It's too hard. Look!"
She picked the rose from above Crockett's ear and stepped behind his chair. Then she stooped till her chin rested on the top of his head and let her two bare arms drop past his cheeks till her hands came together on his shirt front. In her hands she held the rose pointing upward so that the blossom was just below his chin.
The effect was distinctly comical--Crockett's dour countenance, with its angry eyes, framed above by Jennie's pretty laughing face, resting on the very top of his head, at the sides by her round white arms, and below by the rose under his chin.
"Fine!" Merriam laughed. "It's better than the other. Ready, Margery?"
"Yes."
A second time he switched off the lights and touched a match to the powder.
Again Crockett had not even blinked so far as Merriam could judge. Well satisfied, the latter spoke to Margery:
"Put that camera away, will you, please, where it could not be easily found except by yourself."
Margery picked up the camera and departed into the kitchenette.
Then, "Let him alone, Jennie," he said. For Jennie had left the back of Crockett's chair and perched herself on the edge of the table beside him and was flicking him under the chin with the rose.
"All right," she said. "He's no fun. He's very cross!"
She slid off the table and dropped into a chair, transferring her attention to Merriam, as though in the hope that he might be less obdurately disposed.
But Merriam addressed himself to the other man.
"Now, Mr. Crockett," he said, "this little supper party and entertainment are over, I believe. If you wish to leave, I shall be glad to release you and permit you to do so."
Crockett's reply was a sound between a grunt and a growl.
Merriam walked around the table and picked up the revolver where it had fallen by the wall.
"I don't believe," he continued, "that it will do you any good to start any rough-house when I have freed you. If you do, Jennie and Margery will scream, and I shall fire this revolver. That will bring in neighbours and probably the police, whose testimony would thus be added to that of the pictures we have taken as to your manner of spending your evening. You will understand that while I shall have those pictures developed the first thing in the morning I shall not show them to any one except Mr. Rockwell unless you compel me to do so."
By this time Crockett had become articulate.
"Compel you to do so?" he repeated stiffly. "May I ask what you mean by that?"
"Well," said Merriam, "you see I am an enthusiastic supporter of the Reform League as led by Mr. Rockwell and Senator Norman and Mayor Black. You, I understand, are opposed to the League and its policies. So long as your opposition relates itself only to those policies and involves only open public discussion of their merits, I shall, of course, have no reason to interfere. But if your opposition should take the form of any personal attack, on Senator Norman, let us say, I should feel compelled to retaliate by a personal attack upon you, making use of these pictures we have taken to-night and the story that will readily weave itself about them. Do you see?"
"See!" Crockett cried. "Of course I see. Blackmail! How much do you want for that camera? Name your price."
"It has no cash price," returned Merriam steadily. "Now if I release you, will you leave quietly?"
For a long moment the financier stared at the younger man who had worsted him. Then:
"At this moment," he said acridly, "I certainly have no other desire than to get away from this place and to be rid of my present companionship."
Merriam was tempted to laugh at the stilted dignity of this phraseology, but he managed to keep a straight face.
"Very well," he said. "Margery,"--for Margery had just returned from the kitchenette minus the camera,--"help me untie him, will you? Feet first."
Margery and Merriam knelt for a moment at the two sides of Crockett's chair and released his two legs. Then Merriam again put the table between himself and Crockett and stood waiting, revolver in hand, leaving to Margery the work of unbinding the arms. He was afraid that his own near presence to Crockett when the latter found himself free might tempt him irresistibly to personal assault.
In the moment during which he stood waiting he became conscious that Jennie, half reclining in the chair into which she had dropped, was smiling at him--a pretty, confidential smile which he did not understand.
But he had no time to consider Jennie just then, for Margery had completed her work. The last piece of rope fell on the floor, and she lifted the slip noose from about Crockett's neck. He had been rather tightly bound and did not instantly have the full use of his limbs. Margery took his arm to assist him.
"My coat and hat!" he said, not looking at Merriam.
"In the sitting room," said Margery.
He turned himself in that direction and in a jerky walk, with some support from Margery, moved towards and through the portières. He had disdained to cast so much as a glance at either Merriam or Jennie.
Jennie resented this. "Old crosspatch!" she cried.
Merriam stepped hastily to the portières and peeped through. Crockett had caught up his light overcoat and silk hat from a chair. He refused Margery's offer to help him on with his coat and made, already moving more naturally, for the hall door. Margery followed him. The door opened--closed again. Margery returned from the hallway.
Merriam advanced through the portières into the sitting room.
"Well!" he exclaimed.
"Well!" returned Margery, with a dry laugh--the first laugh Merriam had heard from her during the whole evening.
"See what he does in the street," she added. "Raise the shade about a foot. I'll turn off the light."
Merriam acted promptly on this excellent hint. In a moment the room was in darkness, and he was kneeling by the window watching the street below, which was fairly well illuminated from arc lights at either corner. Part way down the block on the other side of the roadway a car, presumably a taxi, stood by the curb, with a man walking up and down beside it. Jennie's flat was too high up for Merriam to be able to see the sidewalk immediately below. If, therefore, Crockett on emerging from the building merely walked away, he would see nothing. But this was hardly likely.
Presently, sure enough, the taxi showed sudden signs of life. The man hastily got in, and the car rolled forward, crossing the street diagonally, and stopped directly below Merriam's window. Crockett had come out and signalled it. A moment later it shot away down the block and turned the corner.
Merriam still knelt by the window, peering into the street. He was looking for signs of any remaining watchers, for he had his own exit to think of: Rockwell had wanted him to "come at once to the hotel."
As he knelt there in the dark he suddenly sensed a warm fragrant body close beside his own. A pair of soft bare arms slipped about his neck.
"It was fine!" Jennie's voice whispered in his ear. "You're a nice boy!"
She had crept up behind him in the dark. Margery must have left the room.
For a moment Merriam knelt in fascinated silent rigidity. When he moved it was only to turn his head. And the turning of his head brought his face close to Jennie's, which, with the dim light from the street upon it, smiled at him with a kind of saucy tenderness. It was the face of a pretty child, with the lure of womanhood added, but with nothing else of maturity in it.
Her lips puckered. "Kiss me!" she whispered.
As he still only stared she quickly leaned forward a couple of inches more--her lips rested on his.
I am very much afraid that for an instant Merriam's lips responded. He half turned on one knee. His arms involuntarily closed about the seductive little body. He felt the short silk skirts crush deliciously against his legs.
And then a grotesque sort of composite picture of all the things he ought to remember, including Rockwell, Norman, Mollie June, and the members of the Riceville School Board, rushed across his mind. He struggled to his feet, pushing Jennie not roughly--away.
"Margery!" he called.
"Yes?" came Margery's voice from the dining room.
"Turn on the lights!"
By the time Margery had stepped through the portières and pushed the switch Jennie had thrown herself face downward on the davenport, crying.
"Nobody loves me!" she sobbed.
Margery, standing by the switch, looked from Merriam at the window to Jennie on the couch and back again. Her expression indicated no bewilderment--rather a humorously cynical comprehension. She knew her Jennie.
At any rate, that glance steadied the young man. After meeting it for a moment he turned to Jennie. Poor little girl! He felt that he understood her perfectly. There was a side of himself that was like that. Only he had other sides powerfully developed, and Jennie had no other sides. All his young chivalry rose up, in alliance with the missionary spirit of the teacher. He desired greatly to help her.
After an instant's hesitation he crossed the room and drew up a chair beside the davenport.
"Jennie," he said, "listen!"
"Go away!" said Jennie.
"Iamgoing away in a minute. But I want to tell you something first."
Her sobbing ceased, but he waited till she asked:
"Well, what?"
"Thereissomebody who loves you."
Hopefully Jennie raised her head and turned her face to him--still oddly pretty in spite of the tear-streaked rouge. But after a moment's look she said resentfully:
"It isn't you!"
"No," said Merriam, "it isn't I."
Even at this rate the discussion was apparently interesting enough to rouse her. With a sudden movement she curled herself up, half sitting, half reclining, in a corner of the davenport, and smoothed the crumpled skirts over her knees.
"Do you mean George?" she asked.
"No," said Merriam, "I mean Mr. Simpson."
"MisterSimpson!" She laughed derisively, not prettily at all. "A waiter!"
"Listen, Jennie. Simpson is a fine fellow, with lots of brains and lots of courage. He has shown both within the last twenty-four hours. He's rendered a very important service to Mr. Rockwell and Senator Norman, and they're going to give him a lot of money for a reward. I don't know how much--maybe five thousand dollars. And he's crazy about you. He'll marry you in a minute if you'll let him, in spite of--George. He'll take you away on a fine trip--anywhere you want to go. And afterwards he'll set up in a business of his own--a café or whatever he likes. You'll have a real home and a husband and money enough and friends. It'll be a lot better than this stuff--like to-night. It really would. Think it over, Jennie!"
On the last words he rose.
"He's right!" cried Margery, who had drawn near.
"Shut up, Marge!" said Jennie.
But Merriam, looking closely at her with the sharp eye of a teacher to see whether or not his point had gone home, was satisfied. He was sure that she would think it over in spite of herself.
He looked at his watch. It was ten minutes after one.
"I must telephone at once to Mr. Rockwell in Senator Norman's rooms at the Hotel De Soto," he said to Margery.
"Yes," said Margery. "The hotel number is Madison 1-6-8-1."
"Thank you."
Without looking again at Jennie, he went to the telephone in the dining room. In a moment he had the hotel and had asked to be connected with Senator Norman's rooms. It was Rockwell's voice that answered, "Hello!"
"This is Merriam."
"Thank God! Where are you?"
"At Jennie's."
"Still? What the devil was the ruction there when I called up?"
"I'll tell you about that later. Do you still want me to come to the hotel?"
"Certainly. As fast as you can."
"You got the Senator back all right?"
"Yes. But he's pretty sick. Caught more cold, I guess. Hobart's worried about him. You'll have to stay over another day all right. And make that speech."
Merriam groaned.
"Listen!" said Rockwell. "You'll have to be mighty careful about getting into the hotel. You aren't Senator Norman just now, you know. The Senator has already returned to the hotel, openly, with me, three hours ago, and is sick in his rooms. We'll have to smuggle you in without any one's seeing you. But I have a plan--or rather Simpson has. You'd better come down on the Elevated. That'll be better than a taxi this time. No chauffeur to tell on you. Be sure you get away from there without being followed. Margery'll show you a way. Get off at Madison and Wabash. Simpson will meet you there and smuggle you in the back way. You can come right away?"
"Yes."
"Then for Heaven's sake come! We'll talk after you get here." He hung up.
Merriam stared at the instrument as he slowly replaced his own receiver. Another day. "And make that speech!" Would this kaleidoscopic, unreal phantasm of adventures never end? When would he wake up? He perceived suddenly that he was very tired. But he must brace up sufficiently to get back to the hotel. There doubtless he would be permitted to go to bed and snatch at least a few hours' sleep--before the speech!
He turned and found Margery standing between the portières, watching him.
"Well!" she said sharply.
"I must--must--get dressed," he finished, realising for the first time since he had leapt out of bed with his revolver to divert Crockett from the telephone that he was attired only in pajamas. "Rockwell says you can tell me a way to get away from here without being seen by any watchers."
"Yes," said Margery. "Go and dress. I'll attend to that."
He went into the bedroom and began to get into his clothes, working mechanically.
Presently he was ready--though with such a loose and rakish bow as he had never before disported--and emerged into the dining room.
There he encountered a cheering spectacle. Margery was seated at the table between a coffee percolator, efficiently bubbling, and an electric toaster. She was buttering hot toast. Jennie sat at one side of the table. A pale blue kimono now covered her dancing costume, and she looked quite demure. She raised her eyes almost shyly as Merriam entered.
"Well!" he exclaimed. "This is grand. Margery, you certainly are a trump!"
Margery's rather sallow cheeks flushed slightly. "You'll need it," was all she said, and proceeded to fill a cup for him from the percolator.
"How do I get away?" Merriam asked as he sipped.
"Back stairs," said Margery succinctly. "I'll show you."
Munching toast, he enquired the whereabouts of the nearest Elevated station and was duly instructed.
He had a second cup of the black coffee. Margery did not take any and would not give Jennie any.
"We go straight to bed," she said decidedly.
From time to time Merriam cast an unwilling glance at Jennie, sitting downcast and out of it on Margery's other side. About the third time Jennie intercepted his glance and answered it with a small wistful smile. After that he would not look again. In a few minutes, of course, this very early breakfast--it was somewhere around two o'clock--was over, and Merriam rose.
"I must be off," he said, and hesitated. "I am very much indebted to both of you for--all the help you have given me this evening!" (Inwardly he abused himself for his stiltedness; it was like his telling Mollie June he was glad to have helped her in algebra.)
Jennie rose too and came around the table towards him. She had suddenly summoned back a smile, and she moved daintily inside the blue kimono. Above the stalk of that straight, demure, Japanesy blue, her head nodded like a bright blossom--with its fair, wavy hair, blue eyes, and childishly rounded cheeks, still gaudy with the remains of rouge.
She tripped forward till she was almost touching Merriam, stopped, and suddenly raised her eyes to him.
"Kiss me good-bye!" she said.
We may suspect that it was a sort of point of honour with Jennie to retrieve the rebuff she had received in the sitting room. As for Merriam, in spite of the obvious deliberateness of this assault, I am not perfectly sure I could answer for him if it had not been for Margery. But Margery's presence saved him from serious temptation.
Instead of stooping to kiss the lifted lips he caught Jennie's hand that hung at her side, and, stepping back half a step, raised the hand and kissed it.
Sometimes the inspirations of youth are singularly happy. It seems to me that this one was of that kind: it involved neither yielding nor discourtesy.
Jennie was somewhat taken aback, yet she could not be hurt by a gesture so gallant.
"Good-bye, Jennie," he said. "I hope to be the best man at your wedding before long."
"Oh!" she said, and withdrew her hand. Then: "Good-bye!"
After a moment's hesitation and a last quite shy glance at Merriam she suddenly gathered up the skirts of the kimono and ran into the sitting room.
"Are you ready?" said Margery dryly.
"My coat. I haven't a hat," he added, remembering that under Rockwell's instructions he had left this article in the taxi in which they had come to the flat.
"Your coat's in the hall," said Margery. "I can get you a hat too."
The dining room was connected directly with the hallway, and in a moment Margery had returned with Merriam's light overcoat and with a man's derby--probably Norman's property.
"Thank you," said Merriam, taking them.
"This way," she replied, moving towards the kitchenette.
In the kitchenette he was momentarily surprised to see Margery opening a tin box labeled "Bread." Was she going to equip him with a lunch? But she drew out, not a loaf, but the camera.
"You'll want to take this along," she said.
"Indeed, yes."
Then he followed her out on to the back porch, where earlier--ages ago, it seemed--he had deposited the stepladder.
"Now," said Margery, "you go down these stairs and diagonally across the court to that archway. See?" She pointed. "That brings you out on the other side of the block. Nobody will be looking for you there. And the Elevated station is three and one-half blocks west. Put on your hat and coat. I'll hold it."
"Thank you so much," said Merriam, as the coat slipped on.
Then he turned, took off his hat again, and held out his hand.
"Good-bye, Margery," he said, shaking hands heartily. "Thank you--for everything."
For a moment they looked at each other with mutual respect.
Then Merriam said:
"I'm going to send Simpson around to see Jennie. Shan't I?"
"You can try it," said Margery. "Good-bye."
She went back into the kitchenette and closed the door.