"I'm for her, one and indivisible. But hang my luck, I never came within a mile of an introduction."
"What? You, and on shipboard where she couldn't get away?" John threw up his hands as a sign that this information had overcome him.
"Even the captain shied when I approached him," said Robert, gloomily.
"I begin to see," said the brother.
"See what?"
"Have a match; your cigar has gone out."
Robert relighted his cigar and puffed like a threshing-machine engine.
John leaned toward Nancy. "Shall I tell him, Nan?"
Nancy blushed. "I suppose he'll have to know sooner or later."
"Know what?" asked the third person singular
"Your charming sister is about to bring you a brother-in-law."
"What?" You could have heard this across the street.
"Yes, Bobby dear. And don't look so hurt. You don't want me to become an old maid, do you?"
"When did it happen?"—helplessly. How the thought of his sister's marrying horrifies a brother! I believe I can tell you why. Every brother knows that no man is good enough for a good woman. "When did it happen?" Mr. Robert repeated, with a look at his brother, which said thatheshould be held responsible.
"Last week."
Robert took in a long breath, as one does who expects to receive a blow of some sort which can not be warded off, and asked: "Who is it?" Nancy married? What was the world coming to, anyhow?
"Charlie Henderson,"—timidly.
Then Robert, who had been expecting nothing less than an English duke, let loose the flaming ions of his righteous wrath.
"Chuck Henderson?—that duffer?" (Oh, Mr. Robert, Mr. Robert; and after all I've done for you!)
"He's not a duffer!" remonstrated Nancy, with a flare in her mild eyes. (How I wish I might have seen her as she defended me!) "He's the dearest fellow in the world, and I love him with all my heart!" (How do you like that, Mr. Robert? Bravo, Nancy! I may be a duffer, true enough, but I rather object to its being called out from the housetops.) And Nancy added: "I want you to understand distinctly, Robert, that in my selection of a husband you are not to be consulted."
This was moving him around some.
"Hold on, Nan! Drat it, don't look like that! I meant nothing, dearie; only I'm a heap surprised. Chuckisa good fellow, I'll admit; but I've been dreaming of your marrying a prince or an ambassador, and Henderson comes like a jolt. Besides, Chuck will never be anything but a first-rate politician. You'll have to get used to cheap cigars and four-ply whisky. When is it going to happen?"
"In June. I have always loved him, Bob. And he wants you to be his best man."
Robert appeared a bit mollified at this knowledge. "But what shall I do after that?" he wailed. "You're the only person I can order about, and now you're going the other side of the range."
"Bob, why don't you get married yourself?" asked Mrs. Warburton. "With your looks you won't have to go far nor begging for a wife."
"There's the rub, sister mine by law and the admirable foresight of my only brother. What am I good for but ordering rookies about? I've no business head. And it's my belief that an Army man ought never to wed."
"Marry, my boy, and I'll see what can be done for you in the diplomatic way. The new administration will doubtless be Republican, and my influence will have some weight,"—and John smiled affectionately across the table. He loved this gay lad opposite, loved him for his own self and because he could always see the mother's eyes and lips. "You have reached the age of discretion. You are now traveled and a fairly good linguist. You've an income of forty-five hundred, and to this I may be able to add a berth worth two or three thousand. Find the girl, lad; find the girl."
"Honestly, I'll think it over, Jack."
"Oh!"
Three of the quartet turned wonderingly toward Mrs. Jack.
"What's the matter?" asked Jack.
"We have forgotten to show Bob the baby!"
"Merciful heavens!" bawled Robert. "A baby? This is the first time I've heard anything about a baby,"—looking with renewed interest at the young mother.
"Do you mean to tell me, John Warburton, that you failed to mention the fact in any of your letters?" indignantly demanded Mrs. John.
"Why—er—didn't I mention it?" asked the perturbed father.
"Nary a word, nary a word!" Robert got up. "Now, where is this wonderful he?—or is it a she?"
"Boy, Bob; greatest kid ever."
And they all trooped up the stairs to the nursery, where Mr. Robert was forced to admit that, as regarded a three-months-old, this was the handsomest little colt he had ever laid eyes on! Mr. Robert even ventured to take the boy up in his arms.
"How d'ye hold him?" he asked.
Mrs. John took the smiling cherub, and the manner in which she folded that infant across her young breast was a true revelation to the prodigal, who felt his loneliness more than ever. He was a rank outsider.
"Jack, you get me that diplomatic post, and I'll see to it that the only bachelor in the Warburton family shall sleep in yonder cradle."
"Done!"
"How long is your furlough?" asked Nancy.
"Whom do you think the baby resembles?" asked the mother.
"One at a time, one at a time! The baby at present doesn't resemble any one."
"There's your diplomat!" cried John, with a laugh.
"And my furlough is for several years, if not longer."
"What?" This query was general and simultaneous.
"Yes, I've disbanded. The Army will now go to rack and ruin. I am a plain citizen of the United States. I expect to spend the winter in Washington."
"The winter!" echoed Jack, mockingly dejected.
"John!" said his wife. John assumed a meek expression; and Mrs. John, putting the baby in the cradle, turned to her brother-in-law. "I thought the Army was a hobby with you."
"It was. I've saved up quite a sum, and I'm going to see a lot of fine scenery if my leg doesn't give out."
"Or your bank account," supplemented John.
"Well, or my bank account."
"Draw on me whenever you want passage out West," went on the statesman in chrysalis.
Whereupon they all laughed; not because John had said anything particularly funny, but because there was a good and generous measure of happiness in each heart.
"Bob, there's a ball at the British embassy tonight. You must go with us."
"Impossible!" said Robert. "Remember my leg."
"That will not matter," said Mrs. John; "you need not dance."
"What, not dance? I should die of intermittent fever. And if I did dance, my leg might give out."
"You can ride a horse all right," said John, in the way of argument.
"I can do that easily with my knees. But I can't dance with my knees. No, I shall stay at home. I couldn't stand it to see all those famous beauties, and with me posing as a wall-flower."
"But what will you do here all alone?"
"Play with the kid, smoke and read; make myself at home. You still smoke that Louisiana, Jack?"
"Yes,"—dubiously.
"So. Now, don't let me interfere with your plans for tonight. I haven't been in a home in so long that it will take more than one night for the novelty to wear off. Besides, that nurse of yours, Kit, is good to look at,"—a bit of the rogue in his eye.
"Bob!"—from both women.
"I promise not to look at her; I promise."
"Well, I must be off," said John. "I'm late now. I've a dozen plans for coast defenses to go over with an inventor of a new carriage-gun. Will you go with me, while I put you up at the Metropolitan, or will you take a shopping trip with the women?"
"I'll take the shopping trip. It will be a sensation. Have you any horses?"
"Six."
"Six! Youarea lucky pup: a handsome wife, a bouncing boy, and six horses! Where's the stable?"
"In the rear. I keep only two stablemen; one to take care of the horses and one to act as groom. I'm off. I've a cracking good hunter, if you'd like a leg up. We'll all ride out to Chevy Chase Sunday. By-by, till lunch."
Mr. Robert immediately betook himself to the stables, where he soon became intimately acquainted with the English groom. He fussed about the harness-room, deplored the lack of a McClelland saddle, admired the English curbs, and complimented the men on the cleanliness of the stables. The men exchanged sly smiles at first, but these smiles soon turned into grins of admiration. Here was a man who knew a horse from his oiled hoofs to his curried forelock.
"This fellow ought to jump well," he said, patting the sleek neck of the hunter.
"He does that, sir," replied the groom. "He has never taken less than a red ribbon. Only one horse beat him at the bars last winter in New York. It was Mr. Warburton's fault that he did not take first prize. He rode him in the park the day before the contest, and the animal caught a bad cold, sir."
And then it was that this hero of mine conceived his great (not to say young and salad) idea. It appealed to him as being so rich an idea that the stables rang with his laughter.
"Sir?" politely inquired the groom.
"I'm not laughing at your statement, my good fellow; rather at an idea which just occurred to me. In fact, I believe that I shall need your assistance."
"In what way, sir?"
"Come with me."
The groom followed Warburton into the yard, A conversation began in low tones.
"It's as much as my place is worth, sir. I couldn't do it, sir," declared the groom, shaking his head negatively.
"I'll guarantee that you will not suffer in the least. My brother will not discharge you. He likes a joke as well as I do. You are not handed twenty dollars every day for a simple thing like this."
"Very well, sir. I dare say that no harm will come of it. But I am an inch or two shorter than you."
"We'll tide that over."
"I am at your orders, sir." But the groom returned to the stables, shaking his head dubiously. He was not thoroughly convinced.
During the morning ride down-town the two women were vastly puzzled over their brother's frequent and inexplicable peals of laughter.
"For mercy's sake, what do you see that is so funny?" asked Nancy.
"I'm thinking, my dears; only thinking."
"Tell us, that we may laugh, too. I'll wager that you are up to some mischief, Master Robert. Please tell," Nancy urged.
"Later, later; at present you would fail to appreciate the joke. In fact, you might make it miscarry; and that wouldn't do at all. Have a little patience. It's a good joke, and you'll be in it when the time comes."
And nothing more could they worm out of him.
I shall be pleased to recount to you the quality of this joke, this madcap idea. You will find it lacking neither amusement nor denouement. Already I have put forth the casual observation that from Paris to the third-precinct police-station in Washington is several thousand miles.
At dinner that night I met my hero face to face for the first time in eight years, and for all his calling me a duffer (I learned of this only recently), he was mighty glad to see me, slapped me on the back and threw his arm across my shoulder. And why shouldn't he have been glad? We had been boys together, played hooky many a school-time afternoon, gone over the same fishing grounds, plunged into the same swimming-holes, and smoked our first cigar in the rear of my father's barn; and it is the recollection of such things that cements all the more strongly friendship in man and man. We recalled a thousand episodes and escapades, the lickings we got, and the lickings others got in our stead, the pretty school-teacher whom we swore to wed when we grew up. Nobody else had a chance to get a word in edgewise. But Nancy laughed aloud at times. She had been a witness to many of these long-ago pranks.
"What! you are not going to the ball?" I asked, observing that he wore only a dinner-coat and a pair of morocco slippers.
"No ball for me. Just as soon as you people hie forth, off comes this b'iled shirt, and I shall probably meander around the house in my new silk pajamas. I shall read a little from Homer—Jack, let me have the key to that locked case; I've an idea that there must be some robust old, merry old tales hidden there—and smoke a few pipes."
"But you are not going to leave Mrs. Warburton and your sister to come home without escort?" I expostulated.
"Where the deuce are you two men going?" Robert asked, surprised. Somehow, I seemed to catch a joyful rather than a sorrowful note in his tones.
"An important conference at midnight, and heaven only knows how long it may last," said Jack. "I wish you would go along, Bob."
"He can't go now, anyhow," said the pretty little wife. "He has got to stay now, whether he will or no. William will see to it that we women get home all right,"—and she busied herself with the salad dishes.
Suddenly I caught Robert's eye, and we stared hard at each other.
"Chuck, you old pirate," he said presently, "what do you mean by coming around and making love to my sister, and getting her to promise to marry you? You know you aren't good enough for her."
I confess to no small embarrassment. "I—I know it!"
"What do you mean by it, then?"
"Why—er—that is—Confound you, Bob,Icouldn't help it, and besides, I didn'twantto help it! And if you want to have it out—"
"Oh, pshaw! You know just as well as I do that it is against the law to hit a man that wears glasses. We'll call it quits if you'll promise that in the days to come you'll let me hang around your hymeneal shack once in a while."
"Why, if you put it that way!"—and we were laughing and shaking hands again across the table, much to the relief of all concerned.
Dear Nan! I'm not afraid to let the whole world see how much I love you. For where exists man's strength if not in the pride of his love?
"What time does the kid get to sleep?" asked Robert.
"He ought to be asleep now," said Mrs. W. "We shall not reach the embassy until after ten. We have a reception first, and we must leave cards there. Won't you be lonesome here, Bobby?"
"Not the least in the world;"—and Bobby began to laugh.
"What's the joke?" I asked.
He looked at me sharply, then shook his head. "I'll tell you all about it to-morrow, Chuck. It's the kind of joke that has to boil a long time before it gets tender enough to serve."
"I'd give a good deal to know what is going on behind those eyes of yours, Bob." Nancy's eyes searched him ruthlessly, but she might just as well have tried to pierce a stone wall. "You have been laughing all day about something, and I'd like to know what about. It's mischief. I haven't known you all these years for nothing. Now, don't do anything silly, Bob."
"Nancy,"—reproachfully—"I am a man almost thirty; I have passed the Rubicon of cutting up tricks. Go to the ball, you beauty, dance and revel to your heart's content; your brother Robert will manage to pass away the evening. Don't forget the key to that private case, Jack,"—as the women left the table to put the finishing touches to their toilets.
"Here you are," said Jack. "But mind, you must put those books back just as you found them, and lock the case. They are rare editions."
"With the accent on therare, no doubt."
"I am a student, pure and simple," said Jack, lowering his eyes.
"I wouldn't swear to those adjectives," returned the scalawag. "If I remember, you had the reputation of being a high-jinks man in your class at Princeton."
"Sh! Don't you dare to drag forth any of those fool corpses of college, or out you go, bag and baggage." Jack glanced nervously around the room and toward the hall.
"My dear fellow, your wife wouldn't believe me, no matter what I said against your character. Isn't that right, Chuck? Jack, you are a lucky dog, if there ever was one. A handsome wife who loves you, a kid, a fine home, and plenty of horses. I wonder if you married her for her money?"
Jack's eyes narrowed. He seemed to muse. "Yes, I believe I can do it as easily as I did fifteen years ago."
"Do what?" I asked.
"Wallop that kid brother of mine. Bob, I hope you'll fall desperately in love some day, and that you will have a devil of a time winning the girl. You need something to stir up your vitals. By George! and I hope she won't have a cent of money."
"Lovable brother, that!" Bob knocked the ash from his cigar and essayed at laughter which wasn't particularly felicitous. "Supposing I was in love, new, and that the girl had heaps of money, and all that?"
"And all that," mimicked the elder brother. "What does 'and all that' mean?"
"Oh, shut up!"
"Well, I hope youarein love. It serves you right. You've made more than one girl's heart ache, you good-looking ruffian!"
Then we switched over to politics, and Robert became an interested listener. Quarter of an hour later the women returned, and certainly they made a picture which was most satisfactory to the masculine eye. Ah, thou eager-fingered Time, that shall, in days to come, wither the roses in my beauty's cheeks, dim the fire in my beauty's eyes, draw my beauty's bow-lips inward, tarnish the golden hair, and gnarl the slender, shapely fingers, little shall I heed you in your passing if you but leave the heart untouched!
Bob jumped to his feet and kissed them both, a thing I lacked the courage to do. How pleased they looked! How a woman loves flattery from those she loves!
Well, William is in front with the carriage; the women are putting on their cloaks, and I am admiring the luxurious crimson fur-lined garment which brother Robert had sent to Nancy from Paris. You will see by this that he was not altogether a thoughtless lad. Good-by, Mr. Robert; I leave you and your guiding-star to bolt the established orbit; for after this night the world will never be the same careless, happy-go-lucky world. The farce has its tragedy, and what tragedy is free of the ludificatory? Youth must run its course, even as the gay, wild brook must riot on its way to join the sober river.
I dare say that we hadn't been gone twenty minutes before Robert stole out to the stables, only to return immediately with a bundle under his arm and a white felt hat perched rakishly on his head. He was chuckling audibly to himself.
"It will frighten the girls half to death. A gray horse and a bay; oh, I won't make any mistake. Let me see; I'll start about twelve o'clock. That'll get me on the spot just as the boys leave. This is the richest yet. I'll wager that there will be some tall screaming." He continued chuckling as he helped himself to his brother's perfectos and fine old Scotch. I don't know what book he found in the private case; some old rascal's merry tales, no doubt; for my hero's face was never in repose.
We had left Mrs. Secretary-of-the-Interior's and were entering the red brick mansion on Connecticut Avenue. Carriages lined both sides of the street, and mounted police patrolled up and down.
"I do hope Bob will not wake up the baby," said Mrs. W.
"Probably he won't even take the trouble to look at him," replied Jack; "not if he gets into that private case of mine."
"I can't understand what you men see in those horrid chronicles," Nancy declared.
"My dear girl," said Jack, "in those days there were no historians; they were simply story-tellers, and we get our history from these tales. The tales themselves are not very lofty, I am willing to admit; but they give us a general idea of the times in which the characters lived. This is called literature by the wise critics."
"Critics!" said I; "humph! Criticism is always a lazy man's job. When no two critics think alike, of what use is criticism?"
"Ah, yes; I forgot. That book of essays you wrote got several sound drubbings. Nevertheless," continued Jack, "what you offer is in the main true. Time alone is the true critic. Let him put his mark of approval on your work, and not all the critical words can bury it or hinder its light. But Time does not pass his opinion till long after one is dead. The first waltz, dearest, if you think you can stand it. You mustn't get tired, little mother."
"I am wonderfully strong to-night," said the little mother. "How beautifully it is arranged!"
"What?" we men asked, looking over the rooms.
"The figures on Mrs. Secretary-of-State's gown. The lace is beautiful. Your brother. Nan, has very good taste for a man. That cloak of yours is by far the handsomest thing I have seen to-night; and that bit of scarf he sent me isn't to be matched."
"Poor boy!" sighed Nancy. "I wonder if he'll be lonely. It's a shame to leave him home the very first night."
"Why didn't he come, then?" Mrs. W. shrugged her polished shoulders.
"Oh, my cigars and Scotch are fairly comforting," put in Jack, complacently. "Besides, Jane Isn't at all bad looking,"—winking at me. "What do you say, Charlie?"
But Charlie had no time to answer. The gray-haired, gray-whiskered ambassador was bowing pleasantly to us. A dozen notable military and naval attaches nodded; and we passed on to the ball-room, where the orchestra was playingA Summer Night in Munich. In a moment Jack and his wife were lost in the maze of gleaming shoulders and white linen. It was a picture such as few men, once having witnessed it, can forget. Here were the great men in the great world: this man was an old rear-admiral, destined to become the nation's hero soon; there, a famous general, of long and splendid service; celebrated statesmen, diplomats, financiers; a noted English duke; a scion of the Hapsburg family; an intimate of the German kaiser; a swart Jap; a Chinaman with his peacock feather; tens of men whose lightest word was listened to by the four ends of the world; representatives of all the great kingdoms and states. The President and his handsome wife had just left as we came, so we missed that formality, which detracts from the pleasures of the ball-room.
"Who is that handsome young fellow over there, standing at the side of the Russian ambassador's wife?" asked Nancy, pressing my arm.
"Where? Oh, he's Count Karloff (or something which sounds like it), a wealthy Russian, in some way connected with the Russian government; a diplomat and a capital fellow, they say. I have never met him. … Hello! there's a stunning girl right next to him that I haven't seen before. … Where are you going?"
Nancy had dropped my arm and was gliding kitty-corner fashion, across the floor. Presently she and the stunning girl had saluted each other after the impulsive fashion of American girls, and were playing cat-in-the-cradle, to the amusement of those foreigners nearest. A nod, and I was threading my way to Nancy's side.
"Isn't it glorious?" she began. "This is Miss Annesley, Charlie; Betty, Mr. Henderson." Miss Annesley looked mildly curious at Nan, who suddenly flushed. "We are to be married in the spring," she explained shyly; and I dare say that there was a diffident expression on my own face.
Miss Annesley gave me her hand, smiling. "You are a very fortunate man,Mr. Henderson."
"Not the shadow of a doubt!" Miss Annesley, I frankly admitted on the spot, was, next to Nancy, the handsomest girl I ever saw; and as I thought of Mr. Robert in his den at home, I sincerely pitied him. I was willing to advance the statement that had he known, a pair of crutches would not have kept him away from No. 1300 Connecticut Avenue.
I found three chairs, and we sat down. There was, for me, very little opportunity to talk. Women always have so much to say to each other, even when they haven't seen each other within twenty-four hours. From time to time Miss Annesley glanced at me, and I am positive that Nancy was extolling my charms. It was rather embarrassing, and I was balling my gloves up in a most dreadful fashion. As they seldom addressed a word to me, I soon became absorbed in the passing scene. I was presently aroused, however.
"Mr. Henderson, Count Karloff," Miss Annesley was saying. (Karloff is a name of my own choosing. I haven't the remotest idea if it means anything in the Russian language. I hope not.)
"Charmed!" The count's r's were very pleasantly rolled. I could see by the way his gaze roved from Miss Annesley to Nancy that he was puzzled to decide which came the nearer to his ideal of womanhood.
I found him a most engaging fellow, surprisingly well-informed on American topics. I credit myself with being a fairly good reader of faces, and, reading his as he bent it in Miss Annesley's direction, I began to worry about Mr. Robert's course of true love. Here was a man who possessed a title, was handsome, rich, and of assured social position: it would take an extraordinary American girl to look coldly upon his attentions. By and by the two left us, Miss Annesley promising to call on Nancy.
"And where are you staying, Betty?"
"Father and I have taken Senator Blank's house in Chevy Chase for the winter. My horses are already in the stables. Do you ride?"
"I do."
"Then we shall have some great times together."
"Be sure to call. I want you to meet my brother."
"I believe I have," replied Miss Annesley.
"I mean my younger brother, a lieutenant in the Army."
"Oh, then you have two brothers?"
"Yes," said Nancy.
"The dance is dying, Mademoiselle," said the count in French.
"Your arm, Monsieur.Au revoir,Nancy."
"Poor Bobby!" Nancy folded her hands and sighed mournfully. "It appears to me that his love affair is not going to run very smooth. But isn't she just beautiful, Charlie? What color, what style!"
"She's a stunner, I'm forced to admit. Bob'll never stand a ghost of a show against that Russian. He's a great social catch, and is backed by many kopecks."
"How unfortunate we did not know that she would be here! Bobby would have met her at his best, and his best is more to my liking than the count's. He has a way about him that the women like. He's no laggard. But money ought not to count with Betty. She is worth at least a quarter of a million. Her mother left all her property to her, and her father acts only as trustee. Senator Blank's house rents for eight thousand the season. It's ready furnished, you know, and one of the handsomest homes in Washington. Besides, I do not trust those foreigners,"—taking a remarkably abrupt curve, as it were.
[Illustration: "What were you doing off your own box?" "Getting on the wrong box"—Act I.]
"There's two Bs in your bonnet, Nancy," I laughed.
"Never mind the Bs; let us have the last of this waltz."
This is not my own true story; so I shall bow off and permit my hero to follow the course of true love, which is about as rough-going a thoroughfare as the many roads of life have to offer.
At eleven-thirty he locked up his book and took to his room the mysterious bundle which he had purloined from the stables. It contained the complete livery of a groom. The clothes fitted rather snugly, especially across the shoulders. He stood before the pier-glass, and a complacent (not to say roguish) smile flitted across his face. The black half-boots, the white doeskin breeches, the brown brass-buttoned frock, and the white hat with the brown cockade. … Well, my word for it, he was the handsomest jehu Washington ever turned out. With a grin he touched his hat to the reflection in the glass, and burst out laughing. His face was as smooth as a baby's, for he had generously sacrificed his beard.
I can hear him saying to himself: "Lord, but this is a lark! I'll have to take another Scotch to screw up the edge of my nerve. Won't the boys laugh when they hear how I stirred the girls' frizzes! We'll have a little party here when they all get home. It's a good joke."
Mr. Robert did not prove much of a prophet. Many days were to pass ere he reentered his brother's house.
He stole quietly from the place. He hadn't proceeded more than a block when he became aware of the fact that he hadn't a penny in his clothes. This discovery disquieted him, and he half turned about to go back. He couldn't go back. He had no key.
"Pshaw! I won't need any money;"—and he started off again toward Connecticut Avenue. He dared not hail a car, and he would not have dared had he possessed the fare. Some one might recognize him. He walked briskly for ten minutes. The humor of the escapade appealed to him greatly, and he had all he could do to smother the frequent bursts of laughter which surged to his lips. He reached absently for his cigar-case. No money, no cigars.
"That's bad. Without a cigar I'm likely to get nervous. Scraping off that beard made me forgetful. Jove! with these fleshings I feel as self-conscious as an untried chorus girl. These togs can't be very warm in winter. Ha! that must be the embassy where all those lights are; carriages.Allons!"
To make positive, he stopped a pedestrian.
"Pardon me, sir," he said, touching his hat, "but will you be so kind as to inform me if yonder is the British embassy?"
"It is, my man," replied the gentleman.
"Thank you, sir."
And each passed on to his affairs.
"Now for William; we must find William, or the joke will be on Robert."
He manoeuvered his way through the congested thoroughfare, searching the faces of the grooms and footmen. He dodged hither and thither, and was once brought to a halt by the mounted police.
"Here, you! What d'ye mean by runnin' around like this? Lost yer carriage, hey? I've a mind to run ye in. Y' know th' rules relatin' th' leavin' of yer box in times like these. Been takin' a sly nip, probably, an' they've sent yer hack down a peg. Get a gait on y', now."
Warburton laughed silently as he made for the sidewalk. The first man he plumped into was William—a very much worried William, too. Robert could have fallen on his neck for joy. All was plain sailing now.
"I'm very glad to see you, sir," said William. "I was afraid you could not get them clothes on, sir. I was getting a trifle worried, too. Here's the carriage number."
Warburton glanced hastily at it and stuffed it into a convenient pocket.
"It's sixteen carriages up, sir; a bay and a gray. You can't miss them. The bay, being a saddle-horse, is a bit restive in the harness; but all you have to do is to touch him with the whip. And don't try to push ahead of your turn, or you will get into trouble with the police. They are very strict. And don't let them confuse you, sir. The numbers won't be in rotation. You'll hear one hundred and fifteen, and the next moment thirty-five, like as not. It's all according as to how the guests are leaving. Good luck to you, sir, and don't forget to explain it all thoroughly to Mr. Warburton, sir."
"Don't you worry, William; we'll come out of this with colors flying."
"Very well, sir. I shall hang around till you are safely off,"—andWilliam disappeared.
Warburton could occasionally hear the faint strains of music. From time to time the carriage-caller bawled out a number, and the carriage would roll up under the porte-cochere. Warburton concluded that it would be a good plan to hunt up his rig. His search did not last long. The bay and the gray stood only a little way from the gate. The box was vacant, and he climbed up and gathered the reins. He sat there for some time, longing intensely for a cigar, a good cigar, such as gentlemen smoked.
"Seventeen!" came hoarsely along on the wings of the night. "Number seventeen, and lively there!"
Warburton's pulse doubled its beat. His number!
"Skt!" The gray and the bay started forward, took the half-circle and stopped under the porte-cochere. Warburton recollected that a fashionable groom never turned his head unless spoken to; so he leveled his gaze at his horses' ears and waited. But from the very corner of his eye he caught the glimpse of two women, one of whom was enveloped in a crimson cloak. He thrilled with exultation. What a joke it was! He felt the carriage list as the women stepped in. The door slammed to, and the rare good joke was on the way.
"Off with you!" cried the pompous footman, with an imperious wave of the hand. "Number ninety-nine!"
"Ninety-nine! Ninety-nine!" bawled the carriage man.
Our jehu turned into the avenue, holding a tolerable rein. He clucked and lightly touched the horses with the lash.Thiswas true sport;thiswas humor, genuine, initiative, unforced. He could imagine the girls and their fright when he finally slowed down, opened the door, and kissed them both. Wouldn't they let out a yell, though? His plan was to drive furiously for half a dozen blocks, zigzag from one side of the street to the other, taking the corners sharply, and then make for Scott Circle.
Now, a lad of six can tell the difference between seventeen and seventy-one. But this astonishing jehu of mine had been conspicuous as the worst mathematician and the best soldier in his class at West Point. No more did he remember that he was not in the wild West, and that here in the East there were laws prohibiting reckless driving.
He drove decently enough till he struck Dupont Circle. From here he turned into New Hampshire, thinking it to be Rhode Island. Mistake number two. He had studied the city map, but he was conscious of not knowing it as well as he should have known it; but, true to his nature, he trusted to luck.
Aside from all this, he forgot that a woman might appreciate this joke only when she heard it recounted. To live through it was altogether a different matter. In an episode like this, a woman's imagination, given the darkness such as usually fills a carriage at night, becomes a round of terrors. Every moment is freighted with death or disfigurement. Her nerves are like the taut strings of a harp in a wintry wind, ready to snap at any moment; and then, hysteria. With man the play, and only the play, is the thing.
Snap-crack! The surprised horses, sensitive and quick-tempered as all highly organized beings are, nearly leaped out of the harness. Never before had their flanks received a more unwarranted stroke of the lash. They reared and plunged, and broke into a mad gallop, which was exactly what the rascal on the box desired. An expert horseman, he gauged the strength of the animals the moment they bolted, and he knew that they were his. Once the rubber-tired vehicle slid sidewise on the wet asphalt, and he heard a stifled scream.
He laughed, and let forth a sounding "whoop," which nowise allayed the fright of the women inside the carriage. He wheeled into S Street, scraping the curb as he did so. Pedestrians stopped and stared after him. A policeman waved his club helplessly, even hopelessly. On, on: to Warburton's mind this ride was as wild as that which the Bishop of Vannes took from Belle-Isle to Paris in the useless effort to save Fouquet from the wrath of Louis XIV, and to anticipate the pregnant discoveries of one D'Artagnan. The screams were renewed. A hand beat against the forward window and a muffled but wrathful voice called forth a command to stop. This voice was immediately drowned by another's prolonged scream. Our jehu began to find all this very interesting, very exciting.
"I'll wager a dollar that Nan isn't doing that screaming. The Warburtons never cry out when they are frightened. Hang it!"—suddenly; "this street doesn't look familiar. I ought to have reached Scott Circle by this time. Ah! here's a broader street,"—going lickety-clip into Vermont.
A glass went jingling to the pavement.
"Oho! Nancy will be jumping out the next thing. This will never do." He began to draw in.
Hark! His trained trooper's ear heard other hoofs beating on the iron-like surface of the pavement. Worriedly he turned his head. Five blocks away there flashed under one of the arc-lights, only to disappear in the shadow again, two mounted policemen.
"By George! it looks as if the girls were going to have their fun, too!" He laughed, but there was a nervous catch in his voice. He hadn't counted on any policeman taking part in the comedy. "Where the devilisScott Circle, anyhow?"—fretfully. He tugged at the reins. "Best draw up at the next corner. I'll be hanged ifIknow where I am."
He braced himself, sawed with the reins, and presently the frightened and somewhat wearied horses slowed down into a trot. This he finally brought to a walk. One more pull, and they came to a stand. It would be hard to say which breathed the heaviest, the man or the horses. Warburton leaped from the box, opened the door and waited. He recognized the necessity of finishing the play before the mounted police arrived on the scene.
There was a commotion inside the carriage, then a woman in a crimson cloak stepped (no, jumped!) out. Mr. Robert threw his arms around her and kissed her cheek.
"You … vile … wretch!"
Warburton sprang back, his hands applied to his stinging face.
"You drunken wretch, how dare you!"
"Nan, it's only I—" he stammered.
"Nan!" exclaimed the young woman, as her companion joined her. The light from the corner disclosed the speaker's wrathful features, disdainful lips, palpitating nostrils, eyes darting terrible glances. "Nan! Do you think, ruffian, that you are driving serving-maids?"
"Good Lord!" Warburton stepped back still farther; stepped back speechless, benumbed, terror-struck. The woman he was gazing at was anybody in the world but his sister Nancy!
"Officers, arrest this fellow!" commanded the young woman. Her gesture was Didoesque in its wrath.
"That we will, ma'am!" cried one of the policemen, flinging himself from his horse. "So it's you, me gay buck? Thirty days fer you, an' mebbe more. I didn't like yer looks from th' start. You're working some kind of a trick. What complaint, ma'am?"
"Drunkenness and abduction,"—rubbing the burning spot on her cheek.
"That'll be rather serious. Ye'll have to appear against him in th' mornin', ma'am."
"I certainly shall do so." She promptly gave her name, address and telephone number.
"Bill, you drive th' ladies home an' I'll see this bucko to th' station. Here, you!"—to Warburton, who was still dumb with astonishment at the extraordinary denouement to his innocent joke. "Git on that horse, an' lively, too, or I'll rap ye with th' club."
"It's all a mistake, officer—"
"Close yer face an' git on that horse. Y' can tell th' judge all that in th' mornin'.Iain't got no time t' listen. Bill, report just as soon as ye see th' ladies home. Now, off with ye. Th' ladies'll be wantin' somethin' t' quiet their nerves. Git on that horse, me frisky groom; hustle!" Warburton mechanically climbed into the saddle. It never occurred to him to parley, to say that he couldn't ride a horse. The inventive cells of his usually fertile brain lay passive. "Now," went on the officer, mounting his own nag, "will ye go quietly? If ye don't I'll plug ye in th' leg with a chunk o' lead. I won't stan' no nonsense."
"What are you going to do with me?" asked Warburton, with a desperate effort to collect his energies.
"Lock ye up; mebbe throw a pail of water on that overheated cocoanut of yours."
"But if you'll only let me explain to you! It's all a joke; I got the wrong carriage—"
"Marines, marines! D' ye think I was born yestiddy? Ye wanted th' ladies' sparklers, or I'm a doughhead." The police are the same all over the world; the original idea sticks to them, and truth in voice or presence is but sign of deeper cunning and villainy. "Anyhow, ye can't run around Washington like ye do in England, me cockney. Ye can't drive more'n a hundred miles an hour on these pavements."
"But, I tell you—" Warburton, realizing where his escapade was about to lead him, grew desperate. The ignominy of it! He would be the laughing-stock of all the town on the morrow. The papers would teem with it. "You'll find that you are making a great mistake. If you will only take me to—Scott Circle—"
"Where ye have a pal with a gun, eh? Git ahead!" And the two made off toward the west.
Once or twice the officer found himself admiring the easy seat of his prisoner; and if the horse had been anything but a trained animal, he would have worried some regarding the ultimate arrival at the third-precinct.
Half a dozen times Warburton was of a mind to make a bolt for it, but he did not dare trust the horse or his knowledge of the streets. He had already two counts against him, disorderly conduct and abduction, and he had no desire to add uselessly a third, that of resisting an officer, which seems the greatest possible crime a man can commit and escape hanging. Oh, for a mettlesome nag! There would be no police-station for him, then. Police-station! Heavens, what should he do? His brother, his sister; their dismay, their shame; not counting that he himself would be laughed at from one end of the continent to the other. What an ass he had made of himself! He wondered how much money it would take to clear himself, and at the same moment recollected that he hadn't a cent in his clothes. A sweat of terror moistened his brow.
"What were ye up to, anyway?" asked the policeman. "What kind of booze have ye been samplin'?"
"I've nothing to say."
"Ye speak clear enough. So much th' worse, if ye ain't drunk. Was ye crazy t' ride like that? Ye might have killed th' women an' had a bill of manslaughter brought against ye."
"I have nothing to say; it is all a mistake. I got the wrong number and the wrong carriage."
"Th' devil ye did! An' where was ye goin' t' drive th' other carriage at that thunderin' rate? It won't wash. His honor'll be stone-deaf when ye tell him that. You're drunk, or have been."
"Not to-night."
"Well, I'd give me night off t' know what ye were up to. Don't ye know nothin' about ordinances an' laws? An' I wouldn't mind havin' ye tell me why ye threw yer arms around th' lady an' kissed her,"—shrewdly.
Warburton started in his saddle. He had forgotten all about that part of the episode. His blood warmed suddenly and his cheeks burned. He had kissed her, kissed her soundly, too, the most radiantly beautiful woman in all the world. Why, come to think of it, it was easily worth a night in jail. Yes, by George, hehadkissed her, kissed that blooming cheek, and but for this policeman, would have forgotten! Whatever happened to him, she wouldn't forget in a hurry. He laughed. The policeman gazed at him in pained surprise.
"Well, ye seem t' take it good an' hearty."
"If you could only see the humor in it, my friend, you'd laugh, too."
"Oh, I would, hey? All I got t' say is that yer nerve gits me. An' ye stand a pretty good show of bein' rounded up for more'n thirty days, too. Well, ye've had yer joke; mebbe ye have th' price t' pay th' fiddler. Turn here."
The rest of the ride was in silence, Warburton gazing callously ahead and the officer watching him with a wary eye to observe any suggestive movement. He couldn't make out this chap. There was something wrong, some deep-dyed villainy—of this he hadn't the slightest doubt. It was them high-toned swells that was the craftiest an' most daring. Handsome is that handsome does. A quarter of an hour later they arrived at the third precinct, where our jehu was registered for the night under the name of James Osborne. He was hustled into a small cell and left to himself.
He had kissed her! Glory of glories! He had pressed her to his very heart, besides. After all, they couldn't do anything very serious to him. They could not prove the charge of abduction. He stretched himself on the cot, smiled, arranged his legs comfortably, wondered what she was thinking of at this moment, and fell asleep. It was a sign of a good constitution and a decently white conscience. And thus they found him in the morning. They touched his arm, and he awoke with a smile, the truest indication of a man's amiability. At first he was puzzled as he looked blinkingly from his jailers to his surroundings and then back at his jailers. Then it all returned to him, and he laughed. Now the law, as represented and upheld by its petty officers, possesses a dignity that is instantly ruffled by the sound of laughter from a prisoner; and Mr. Robert was roughly told to shut up, and that he'd soon laugh on the other side of his mouth.
"All right, officers, all right; only make allowances for a man who sees the funny side of things." Warburton stood up and shook himself, and picked up his white hat. They eyed him intelligently. In the morning light the young fellow didn't appear to be such a rascal. It was plainly evident that he hadnotbeen drunk the preceding night; for his eyes were not shot with red veins nor did his lips lack their usual healthy moisture. The officer who had taken him in charge, being a shrewd and trained observer, noted the white hands, soft and well-kept. He shook his head.
"Look here, me lad, you're no groom, not by several years. Now, what th' devil was ye up to, anyway?"
"I'm not saying a word, sir," smiled Warburton. "All I want to know is, am I to have any breakfast? I shouldn't mind some peaches and cream or grapes to start with, and a small steak and coffee."
"Ye wouldn't mind, hey?" mimicked the officer. "What d'ye think this place is, th' Metropolitan Club? Ye'll have yer bacon an' coffee, an' be glad t' git it. They'll feed ye in th' mess-room. Come along."
Warburton took his time over the coffee and bacon. He wanted to think out a reasonable defense without unmasking himself. He was thinking how he could get word to me, too. The "duffer" might prove a friend in need.
"Now where?" asked Warburton, wiping his mouth.
"T' th' court. It'll go hard with ye if ye're handed over t' th' grand jury on th' charge of abduction. Ye'd better make a clean breast of it. I'll speak a word for yer behavior."
"Aren't you a little curious?"
"It's a part of me business,"—gruffly.
"I'll have my say to the judge," said Warburton.
"That's yer own affair. Come."
Once outside, Warburton lost color and a large part of his nonchalance; for an open patrol stood at the curb.
"Have I got to ride in that?"—disgustedly.
"As true as life; an' if ye make any disturbance, so much th' worse."
Warburton climbed in, his face red with shame and anger. He tied his handkerchief around his chin and tilted his hat far down over his eyes.
"'Fraid of meetin' some of yer swell friends, hey? Ten t' one, yer a swell an' was runnin' away with th' wrong woman. Mind, I have an eye on ye."
The patrol rumbled over the asphalt on the way down-town. Warburton buried his face in his hands. Several times they passed a cigar-store, and his mouth watered for a good cigar, the taste of a clear Havana.
He entered the police-court, not lacking in curiosity. It was his first experience with this arm of the civil law. He wasn't sure that he liked it. It wasn't an inviting place with its bare benches and its motley, tawdry throng. He was plumped into a seat between some ladies of irregular habits, and the stale odor of intoxicants, mingling with cheap perfumery, took away the edge of his curiosity.
"Hello, pretty boy; jag?" asked one of these faded beauties, in an undertone. She nudged him with her elbow.
"No, sweetheart," he replied, smiling in spite of himself.
"Ah gowan! Been pinching some one's wad?"
"Nope!"
"What are you here for, then?"
"Having a good time without anybody's consent. If you will listen, you will soon hear all about it."
"Silence there, on the bench!" bawled the clerk, whacking the desk.
"Say, Marie," whispered the woman to her nearest neighbor, "here's a boy been selling his master's harness and got pinched."
"But look at the sweet things coming in, will you! Ain't they swell, though?" whispered Marie, nodding a skinny feather toward the door.
Warburton glanced indifferently in the direction indicated, and received a shock. Two women—and both wore very heavy black veils. The smaller of the two inclined her body, and he was sure that her scrutiny was for him. He saw her say something into the ear of the companion, and repeat it to one of the court lawyers. The lawyer approached the desk, and in his turn whispered a few words into the judge's ear. The magistrate nodded. Warburton was conscious of a blush of shame. This was a nice position for any respectable woman to see him in!
"James Osborne!" called the clerk.
An officer beckoned to James, and he made his way to the prisoner's box. His honor looked him over coldly.
"Name?"
"James Osborne."
"Born here?"
"No."
"Say 'sir'."
"No, sir."
"Where were you born?"
"In New York State."
"How old are you? And don't forget to say 'sir' when you reply to my questions."
"I am twenty-eight, sir."
"Married?"
"No, sir."
"How long have you been engaged as a groom?"
"Not very long, sir."
"How long?"
"Less than twenty-four hours, sir."
Surprise rippled over the faces of the audience on the benches.
"Humph! You are charged with disorderly conduct, reckless driving, and attempted abduction. The last charge has been withdrawn, fortunately for you, sir. Have you ever been up before?"
"Up, sir?"
"A prisoner in a police-court."
"No, sir."
"Twenty-five for reckless driving and ten for disorderly conduct; or thirty days."
"Your Honor, the horses ran away."
"Yes, urged by your whip."
"I was not disorderly, sir."
"The officer declares that you had been drinking."
"Your Honor, I got the wrong carriage. My number was seventeen and I answered to number seventy-one." He wondered ifshewould believe this statement.
"I suppose that fully explains why you made a race-track of one of our main thoroughfares?"—sarcastically. "You were on the wrong carriage to begin with."
"All I can say, sir, is that it was a mistake."
"The mistake came in when you left your carriage to get a drink. You broke the law right then. Well, if a man makes mistakes, he must pay for them, here or elsewhere. This mistake will cost you thirty-five."
"I haven't a penny in my clothes, sir."
"Officer, lock him up, and keep him locked up till the fine is paid. I can not see my way to remit it Not another word,"—as Warburton started to protest.
"Marie Johnson, Mabel Tynner, Belle Lisle!" cried the clerk.
The two veiled ladies left the court precipitately.
James, having been ushered into a cell, hurriedly called for pen and ink and paper. At half after ten that morning the following note reached me:
"Dear Chuck: Am in a devil of a scrape at the police-court. Tried to play a joke on the girls last night by dressing up in the groom's clothes. Got the wrong outfit, and was arrested. Bring thirty-five and a suit of clothes the quickest ever. And, for mercy's sake, say nothing to any one, least of all the folks. I have given the name of James Osborne. Now, hustle. Bob."
I hustled.
When they found him missing, his bed untouched, his hat and coat on the rack, his inseparable walking-stick in the umbrella-stand, they were mightily worried. They questioned Jane, but she knew nothing. Jack went out to the stables; no news there. William, having driven the girls home himself, dared say nothing. Then Jack wisely telephoned for me, and I hurried over to the house.
"Maybe he hunted up some friends last night," I suggested.
"But here's his hat!" cried Nancy.
"Oh, he's all right; don't worry. I'll take a tour around the city.I'll find him. He may be at one of the clubs."
Fortunately for Mr. James Osborne I returned home first, and there found his note awaiting me. I was at the court by noon, armed with thirty-five and a suit of clothes of my own. I found the clerk.
"A young man, dressed as a groom, and locked up overnight," I said cautiously. "I wish to pay his fine."
"James Osborne?"
"Yes, that's the name; James Osborne,"—reaching down into my pocket.
"Fine's just been paid. We were about to release him. Here, officer, show this gentleman to James Osborne's cell, and tell him to pack up and get out."
So his fine was paid! Found the money in his clothes, doubtless. On the way to the cells I wondered what the deuce the rascal had been doing to get locked up overnight. I was vastly angry, but at the sight of him all my anger melted into a prolonged shout of laughter.
"That's right; laugh, you old pirate! I wish you had been in my boots a few hours ago. Lord!"
I laughed again.
"Have you got that thirty-five?" he asked.
"Why, your fine has been paid," I replied, rather surprised.
"And didn't you pay it?"
"Not I! The clerk told me that it had just been paid."
Warburton's jaw sank limply. "Just been paid?—Who the deuce could have paid it, or known?"
"First, tell me what you've been up to."
He told me snatches of the exploit as he changed his clothes, and it was a question which of us laughed the more. But he didn't say a word about the stolen kiss, for which I think none the less of him.
"Who were the women?" I asked.
He looked at me for a space, as if deciding. Finally he made a negative sign.
"Don't know who they were, eh?"—incredulously.
He shrugged, laughed, and drew on his shoes.
"I always knew that I was the jackass of the family, Chuck, but I never expected to do it so well. Let's get out of this hole. I wonder who can have paid that fine?… No, that would not be possible!"
"What would not be?"
"Nothing, nothing,"—laughing.
But I could see that his spirits had gone up several degrees.
"The whole thing is likely to be in the evening papers," I said. He needed a little worrying. And I knew his horror of publicity.
"The newspapers? In the newspapers? Oh, I say, Chuck, can't you use your influence to suppress the thing? Think of the girls."
"I'll do the best I can. And there's only one thing for you to do, and that is to cut out of town till your beard has grown. It would serve you right, however, if the reporters got the true facts."
"I'm for getting out of town, Chuck; and on the next train but one."
Here our conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a policeman.
"A note forMisterOsborne,"—ironically. He tossed the letter toWarburton and withdrew.
MisterOsborne eagerly tore open an end of the envelope—a very aristocratic envelope, as I could readily discern—and extracted the letter. I closely watched his facial expressions. First, there was interest, then surprise, to be succeeded by amusement and a certain exultation. He slapped his thigh.
"By George, Chuck. I'll do it!"
"Do it? Now what?"
"Listen to this." He cleared his throat, sniffed of the faintly scented paper and cleared his throat again. He looked up at me drolly.
"Well?" said I, impatiently. I was as eager to hear it as he had been to read it. I believed that the mystery was about to be solved.
"'James Osborne, Sir: I have been thinking the matter over seriously, and have come to the conclusion that there may have been a mistake. Undoubtedly my groom was primarily to blame. I have discharged him for neglecting his post of duty. I distinctly recall the manner in which you handled the horses last night. It may be possible that they ran away with you. However that may be, I find myself in need of a groom. Your horsemanship saved us from a serious accident. If you will promise to let whisky alone, besides bringing me a recommendation, and are without engagement, call at the inclosed address this afternoon at three o'clock. I should be willing to pay as much as forty dollars a month. You would be expected to accompany me on my morning rides.'"
"She must have paid the fine," said I. "Well, it beats anything I ever heard of. Had you arrested, and now wants to employ you! What name did you say?" I asked carelessly.
"I didn't say any name, Chuck,"—smiling. "And I'm not going to give any, you old duffer."
"And why not?"
"For the one and simple reason that I am going to accept the position,"—with a coolness that staggered me.
"What?" I bawled.
"Sure as life, as the policeman said last night."
"You silly ass, you! Do you want to make the family a laughing-stock all over town?" I was really angry.
"Neither the family nor the town will know anything about it,"—imperturbably.
"But you will be recognized!" I remonstrated. "It's a clear case of insanity, after what has just happened to you."
"I promise not to drink any whisky,"—soberly.
"Bob, you are fooling me."
"Not the littlest bit, Chuck. I've worn a beard for two years. No one would recognize me. Besides, being a groom, no one would pay any particular attention to me. Get the point?"
"But what under the sun is your object?" I demanded. "There's something back of all this. It's not a simple lark like last night's."
"Perspicacious man!"—railingly. "Possibly you may be right. Chuck, you know that I've just got to be doing something. I've been inactive too long. I am ashamed to say that I should tire of the house in a week or less. Change, change, of air, of place, of occupation; change—I must have it. It's food and drink."
"You've met this woman before, somewhere."
"I neither acknowledge nor deny. It will be very novel. I shall be busy from morning till night. Think of the fun of meeting persons whom you know, but who do not know you. I wouldn't give up this chance for any amount of money."
"Forty Dollars a month," said I, wrathfully.
"Cigar money,"—tranquilly.
"Look here, Bob; be reasonable. You can't go about as a groom in Washington. If the newspapers ever get hold of it, you would be disgraced. They wouldn't take you as a clerk in a third-rate consulate. Supposing you should run into Jack or his wife or Nancy; do you think they wouldn't know you at once?"
"I'll take the risk. I'd deny that I knew them; they'd tumble and leave me alone. Chuck, I've got to do this. Some day you'll understand."
"But the woman's name, Bob; only her name."
"Oh, yes! And have you slide around and show me up within twenty-four hours. No, I thank you. I am determined on this. You ought to know me by this time. I never back down; it isn't in the blood. And when all is said, where's the harm in this escapade? I can see none. It may not last the day through."
"I trust not,"—savagely.
"I am determined upon answering this letter in person and finding out, if possible, what induced her to pay my fine. Jackass or not, I'm going to see the thing through." Then he stretched an appealing hand out toward me, and said wheedlingly: "Chuck, give me your word to keep perfectly quiet. I'll drop you a line once in a while, just to let you know how I stand. I shall be at the house to-night. I'll find an excuse. I'm to go up North on a hunting expedition; a hurry call. Do you catch on?"
"I shall never be able to look Nancy in the face," I declared. "Come, Bob; forget it. It sounds merry enough, but my word for it, you'll regret it inside of twenty-four hours. You are a graduate of the proudest military school in the world, and you are going to make a groom of yourself!"
"I've already done that and been locked up overnight. You are wasting your breath, Chuck."
"Well, hang you for a jackass, sure enough! I promise; but if you get into any such scrape as this, you needn't send for me. I refuse to help you again."
"I can't exactly see that you did. Let's get out. Got a cigar in your pocket? I am positively dying for a smoke."
Suddenly a brilliant idea came to me.
"Did you know that Miss Annesley, the girl you saw on shipboard, is inWashington and was at the embassy last night?"