CHAPTER VIAT FORT MYER
“Thisway, sir; your seats are in the upper gallery,” announced a cavalry corporal. “Right up here, miss,” and he assisted Janet up the first steps of the narrow stairway, then made way for Chichester Barnard who followed her. “Let me see your tickets, please,” continued the corporal as Duncan Fordyce appeared at his elbow, Marjorie in his wake. “Very sorry, sir, but these seats are in the north gallery at the other end of the riding-hall. You’ll have to go outside to get there, sir.”
“Thundering devils!” ejaculated Duncan, taking back the two pink pasteboards. “Mrs. Walbridge sold mother these four tickets. I supposed the seats were all together. Wait here just a minute, Miss Marjorie, and I’ll run out to the ticket agent and see if I can’t exchange these seats for others on this side of the hall.”
Marjorie nodded a cheerful assent, and in Duncan’s absence watched the new arrivals swarming into the building. The annual drill, given under the auspices of the Woman’s Army Relief Society, was a great event, not only at Fort Myer but in theNational Capital and Georgetown as well, and fashionable society had apparently turned out en masse to attend it.
“Splendid success, Marjorie,” boomed a voice close to her ear, and turning she recognized Mrs. Walbridge, majestic in her ermine coat and nearly two hundred pounds avoirdupois. “The ticket committee told me the President and most of his Cabinet will be here. The hall is sold out. Haven’t you a seat, child?”
“Yes, I am waiting for——” the name was lost in the slamming down of chairs and the stamping of feet.
“That’s all right,” exclaimed Mrs. Walbridge, much relieved. “I couldn’t have you stand. Be sure and bring your escort over to the Administration Building for tea after the drill,” and she moved ponderously down the aisle to her seat.
“Sorry to have been so long,” apologized Duncan, rejoining Marjorie. “I succeeded in exchanging my tickets for two seats in this lower section. Come on,” but Marjorie held back, and her face grew troubled.
“Hadn’t I better go upstairs and sit with your sister, and let Mr. Barnard join you in these lower seats?” she asked.
“You take your chaperonage too seriously,” declared Duncan firmly. “I hardly ever see you alone, Miss Marjorie, and now Fate has given me a chance to enjoy myself, I decline to have your New England conscience spoil my fun. But if itwill make you feel any easier, I’ll run up and tell Barnard where we are sitting. Here, Corporal, show this lady to her chair,” and he turned and dashed upstairs.
Marjorie slowly followed the non-commissioned officer down the aisle to the front row, speaking to her different friends as she passed them. As she made herself comfortable in the narrow chair, she recognized Baron von Valkenberg and the military attaches of the foreign embassies at Washington, always interested spectators at the drills, sitting near her. To her left was the box reserved for the President and the Commandant of the Post, draped with the President’s personal flag and the Stars and Stripes, while the Chief of Staff and his aides occupied an adjoining box.
Duncan saw Janet and Barnard sitting midway in the front row of the gallery, and with many apologies to the occupants of the chairs whose feet he encountered on his way to them, he reached Barnard’s side, and in a few words explained the situation, then, not waiting for comment, turned and ran downstairs, reaching Marjorie’s side just as the opening bars of the National Anthem echoed through the hall, and the entire audience rose as the President stepped into his box.
“Oh, isn’t it grand!” shouted Janet to Barnard, clapping her hands as a troop of cavalry rode on to the tanbark, and with a ringing cheer, swept at a run down the hall straight to the President’s box, their chargers’ noses stopping just short of the highrailing, and their sabers flashing in salute; then the drill was on.
So absorbed was Janet in the different events scheduled that her companion received but scant attention.
“I declare, our soldiers are magnificent!” Janet drew a long breath, and regretfully watched the company of picked roughriders leave the hall.
“You little enthusiast!” Barnard’s handsome eyes glowed with some warmer sentiment than mere approval as he studied her piquant face. “Jove! It’s a liberal education to know you.”
“Now you are making fun of me,” she said reproachfully, her foot beating time to the stirring tune the post band was playing across the hall.
“I never was more in earnest.” The two heads were bent very close together, and the tender timbre of his voice made her heart beat quicker. “You have no idea, little girl, of the influence you unconsciously exert on those about you. Please God, I’m a better, cleaner man for having known you; only having known you——” his whisper reached her ear alone—“life will never be the same unless you are with me—always!” She stirred uneasily, frightened by the vehemence of his manner. “Surely you guessed,” he whispered, bending down so that she looked directly at him. His nearness, his comeliness, held her.
“I—I—don’t know!” she slid one trembling hand in his. “I know you better than any other man. I think of you—often.”
His face lightened with hope. “I’ll make you love me,” and pretending to pick up the program, he stooped and pressed his lips to her hand.
“Oh, don’t,” she stammered. “Suppose Duncan should see you.”
“I am willing that he should,” Barnard smiled happily. “But don’t worry, your brother is too attentive in another quarter to bother about us.”
“Duncan attentive?” in sharp surprise. “To whom?”
But Barnard’s eyes had wandered to the high jumping going on below them and apparently he did not hear the question. “He’s down!” he shouted as horse and rider plunged headlong to the ground, and for a time he and Janet watched the jumping in absolute silence.
“How do you like your chaperon?” he asked finally.
“Marjorie? Very much, indeed. Father and mother think she is splendid, and she has been just lovely to me. I don’t know how I could have gotten through this month without her.”
“Good; I’m delighted to hear she’s such a success,” he exclaimed heartily. “To be candid, I was afraid the experiment wouldn’t work. Marjorie is not always easy to get along with; she just lost an awfully good job before your mother engaged her. And Marjorie’s so blessed poor, she needs every cent she can make.”
“It is fine the way she helps Madame Yvonett,” said Janet with genuine enthusiasm. “Marjorie tookme to see her aunt, and I think she is a darling. I met her cousin there, Captain Nichols——”
“I hope you don’t think he’s a darling also?” in mock jealousy.
“Don’t be absurd!” But a warm color mantled Janet’s face, and to cover her confusion she examined the program. “Oh, I see it is his battery that is to drill this afternoon....”
“And here they come now,” broke in Barnard; a trumpet call drowned his words.
Tom Nichols, looking every inch a soldier, rode at the head of his battery and, after saluting the President, backed his horse to the side of the hall and took up his station there, followed by his trumpeter. Janet, her pulses dancing with excitement, leaned far over the balcony, and watched the battery drill, that most stirring of spectacles, with breathless attention. If her eyes stole now and then from the racing mounted cannoniers, the plunging horses, and leaping gun-carriages to a soldierly figure sitting erect and watchful on a restive charger, no one, not even Barnard, was aware of it.
The two other members of their party sitting in the gallery beneath them, had been almost as absorbed in the exhibition drill as Janet and Barnard.
“Tired?” inquired Duncan, turning to Marjorie. She had watched each thrilling performance in silent enjoyment, replying mostly in monosyllables to his few remarks, and Duncan, slowly learning to divine her moods and tenses, had been content to sit quietlyby her side, only occasionally stealing covert glances in her direction.
“No, indeed,” she protested. “I feel ‘abominably refreshed,’ as Aunt Yvonett puts it. Is the drill over?”
“Apparently so.” Duncan rose and Marjorie followed his example. “Stand here out of the crowd,” he suggested a moment later as they approached the entrance. “We can see Janet and Barnard as they come down.” But the crowd had thinned materially, and the band was playing its last stirring quick-step, before the others put in their appearance.
“Awfully sorry to be so long,” apologized Barnard, holding open the large swing door for Marjorie to pass through. “Where to now?”
“There’s a tea-dance at the Administration Building,” began Marjorie. “Shall we go over there?”
“I have a better plan than that,” put in a voice behind her, and Tom Nichols joined the little group. “Come and have tea with me; I am particularly anxious to have you see my quarters.” The invitation was addressed to Marjorie and her companions, but Tom’s eyes sought Janet, and impulsively she responded to their mute pleading.
“Of course we’ll come,” and slipping her hand inside Marjorie’s arm, she kept step with Tom as he piloted them across the parade grounds. Duncan paused long enough to direct his chauffeur to bring the limousine to Captain Nichols’ quarters, then hastened after them. With no little pride Tom ushered his guests into his semi-detached house.
“Let me help you off with your coat, Miss Fordyce,” he said, but he was too late; Barnard was already assisting her. Slightly discomforted Tom turned back to Marjorie, only to find she had stepped into the parlor, and was gazing into the lighted dining-room which opened out of it.
“Are you a magician, Tom?” she asked. “Here is your table all set for tea, and you only knew three minutes ago that we were coming.”
Tom reddened under his tan. “I hoped you would come; Miss Fordyce told me at the Army and Navy Club last night that she had tickets for the drill.” Janet, scenting a discussion, hurried into the parlor, followed by her brother and Barnard. “Besides,” added Tom, with honest intent, but stumbling over his speech. “I—eh—gave a—eh—half invitation to Joe Cooper to bring his mother and sister—there they are now,” and he hastened into the reception hall as the electric bell buzzed.
Marjorie stifled an impatient sigh; she did not like the Calhoun-Coopers. The dislike was mutual. They had tried assiduously to cultivate the Fordyces, and Marjorie’s veiled opposition to any intimacy between Pauline Calhoun-Cooper and Janet had aroused their silent enmity.
“Mother was very sorry not to be able to come,” announced a penetrating voice in the hall. “It was too sweet of you to ask us. Is this your parlor?” and the portières were pulled back, admitting a strikingly gowned young woman whose good looks were slightly marred by a discontented expression.“Dear Miss Fordyce, so glad to see you,” she gushed. “And of course, Miss Langdon,” but the latter handshake was perfunctory, and Pauline turned with added warmth to greet Duncan and Barnard. Joe Calhoun-Cooper was more quiet in his entrance, and Tom was leading his guests into the dining-room before Duncan noticed his presence. Barnard, lingering in the background, observed Duncan’s curt nod and Joe’s darkening face, and his curiosity was instantly aroused. It was the first time Joe had met Duncan since their encounter in the dormitory of the Turkish Bath, Joe having been in New York, but he had neither forgotten nor forgiven Duncan for his plain speech that day, and the physical force with which he had punctuated his meaning.
“Will you take charge of the tea, Madge?” asked Tom, pulling out the chair at the head of the table. “I hope everything is here,” anxiously examining the bountifully supplied table. “Let me draw up a chair for you, Miss Fordyce.” Then turning to the others. “Do make yourselves comfortable,” he entreated.
Duncan found himself sandwiched in between Pauline and her brother, Joe, and at some distance from Marjorie. He was spared the trouble of making small talk, for Pauline took that matter into her own hands, and kept up a running fire of comment which required only an occasional answer. To his great annoyance he discovered that Barnard and Marjorie were holding an animated, low-toned conversation, and Barnard’s manner was becomingmore intense as the slow minutes passed. Pauline finally observed which way Duncan’s attention was straying, and her black eyes snapped with anger.
“They make a very handsome couple,” she whispered confidentially, nodding toward Marjorie. “An old affair....”
Duncan favored her with a blank, noncommittal stare, while inwardly furious. “Ah, indeed,” vaguely, then in a voice which made his sister jump, he called out: “Nice quarters you have, Nichols.”
“Mighty glad you like them, old man,” replied Tom, beaming with pleasure. “Marjorie came over here when I first moved in and helped me settle the house. She deserves all the praise.”
“I do not,” contradicted Marjorie, breaking off her tête-à-tête with Barnard, and Duncan sat back well satisfied. “Aunt Yvonett is responsible for your home.”
“I never knew before that bachelors had so much furniture,” chimed in Pauline.
“They don’t,” replied Tom. “Most of this stuff,” waving his hand vaguely toward the heavy pieces of furniture, “belongs to the Government.”
“How long is your detail here?” asked Barnard.
“There is no specified limit, but we are expecting to be ordered to another station very shortly.”
“I should think you’d hate to give up all this furniture when you move away,” commented Janet, looking admiringly about the cozy room.
“I’ll find some exactly like it in the officers’ quarters at my next post,” carelessly. “Uncle Sam partlyfurnishes all the houses on Government Reservations, you know. What I shall miss will be Washington.”
“Perhaps the War Department will extend your detail here,” exclaimed Marjorie hopefully.
“No such luck,” groaned Tom. “Now, in the good old days ... I suppose you have all heard of the marine officer who was stationed for so many years at the marine barracks in Washington, that when he died he bequeathed his Government quarters in the Yard to his daughters in his will, thinking it belonged to him.”
“If you don’t want to leave Washington, Tom, why don’t you chuck the service?” asked Joe. “You are a bloated plutocrat now.”
“What does he mean, Tom?” demanded Marjorie quickly. “Have you inherited money?”
“No. Shut up, Joe.”
“Well, with your luck anything might happen,” protested Joe. “If you don’t resign they may make you a major-general.”
“Bosh!” Tom looked as provoked as he felt. “Let me explain Joe’s nonsense. When in Brussels two years ago, I attended the Vieux Marché where the townspeople and peasants bring old junk on Sundays to be sold for what it will bring, and I picked up an old coin for five centimes. The other day I heard Admiral Lawrence discussing numismatology in the club, and it occurred to me to show my coin to an antique dealer. Joe went with me yesterday, and I’m blessed if the dealer didn’t tell me the coinwas worth between twelve and fifteen hundred dollars.”
“Oh, how romantic!” ejaculated Pauline, and Janet looked her interest.
“Let’s see the coin, Tom,” suggested Joe, “or have you sold it?”
“No, the dealer only gave me the address of a New York coin collector whom he thought would buy it. If you really care to see the coin,” looking anxiously at Janet, who nodded her head vigorously. “Just a moment, I’ll run upstairs and get it.”
Pauline promptly opened a lively conversation with Barnard across the table, and Duncan was just thinking of changing his seat when Tom rejoined them carrying a small pasteboard box.
“There, isn’t that an ugly thing to be worth all that gold,” he said, placing the coin in Janet’s hand, and the others crowded about to get a better look at it.
“There’s no accounting for taste,” admitted Janet, handing it back to Tom. “Personally I’d rather buy....”
A long blue flame shot out from under the teakettle, and Marjorie jumped from her seat in alarm.
“Lord! the alcohol lamp’s busted,” shouted Tom, dropping the pasteboard box on the sideboard, and reaching over he seized the boiling kettle and its nickel frame. “Open the window, Fordyce,” and he tossed the burning lamp out on the ground where it exploded harmlessly. “Were you burned, Madge?” he asked, returning to her side.
“Oh, no, only frightened; the flame shot at me so suddenly.” Marjorie passed a nervous hand over her mouth, conscious that her lips were trembling.
“I really think we must be leaving,” broke in Pauline. She did not like having attention diverted from herself, and playing second fiddle to a girl who worked for her living was too novel a sensation to be agreeable. “We’ve had a delightful time, Captain; good-bye everybody,” and she sailed out of the room, accompanied by her flurried host and her brother.
“I don’t like to hurry you, Janet, but we must be going also,” said Marjorie quietly.
“Yes, it’s later than I thought,” responded the younger girl. “Gracious, I entirely forgot we are going to the theater tonight.”
“We will all meet there,” Barnard helped Janet into her coat with solicitous care. “Nichols and I are both invited by Judge and Mrs. Walbridge.”
“Good-bye, Tom, we’ve had an awfully good time,” Marjorie gave her cousin’s hand an affectionate squeeze as he helped her into the limousine. The Calhoun-Coopers’ car was already a dim speck in the distance.
“Good-bye—see you all tonight,” shouted Tom, and watched the limousine out of sight. On re-entering the house he was on the point of going upstairs when he remembered the coin. Retracing his footsteps he went to the sideboard in the dining-room and opened the box. It was empty.
Tom glanced in deep perplexity at the box, and then about the room. He had a very distinct recollection of stuffing the coin back into the box just as the flame from the lamp leaped out, and of dropping the closed box on the sideboard. There had been only himself and his guests in the house, for he had sent his striker over to assist at the tea-dance at the Administration Building, after first setting his master’s tea table.
Tom went rapidly through all his pockets; then searched the room, then the parlor; next he went into the servants’ quarters and, as he expected, found them empty. From there he went over the house, but he was the only person in it, and the windows and doors were all securely locked. Convinced of that fact, he returned to the dining-room, and dropped bewildered into the nearest chair. His eyes fell on the uptilted cardboard box; there was even a slight impress left on the cotton where the coin had lain.
“It’s gone!” exclaimed Tom aloud. “Really gone!” And his face was as blank as the opposite wall.