"We have been fairly living on the long distance telephone trying to reach you. What on earth was the trouble? Edith received Fannie's telegram a minute after you called her up and when she tried to reach you--well, she couldn't, that's all...."
"There was something the matter with the connection ... it's been off for several days ..." he replied.
"Of course we could have telegraphed but we didn't want to alarm you," I went on, meeting his own brave lie with another. "As a matter of fact I think we all were more scared than hurt. Fannie had had a cold while we were still in Chicago--that's a trying climate in the winter. Then when we reached Cleveland, there wasn't much of an improvement in the matter of weather and I felt a bit guilty in having urged her to go with us." I toyed with, the celery and wiped off imaginary soot.
"Were you in Cleveland?"
I looked up at him in mild surprise.
"Why, of course. It was at my invitation that Fannie accompanied us. She was bored to death in Chicago ... it must be deadly monotonous--this same routine day after day ... the same faces and nothing new to talk about.... You know--you know if you were my husband I shouldn't let you run away on hunting trips and leave me behind.... I don't think you men realize how stupid it becomes with no change of menu--as it were...."
I reproved him with a smile. For the first time his eyes sent back a glint of warmth.
"How long have you known Fannie? It's odd that I've never--had the pleasure of meeting you before." (The pleasure was an after-thought.)
"O ... I've known Fannie for ... let me see ... nearly three years...."
(I made a mental note of this for "Fannie's" benefit.) "We met when Will played Chicago two seasons since. We took quite a fancy to each other, and last winter when she came to New York we went about together and became quite good friends.... I presume you were away on one of your hunting trips last winter ... naughty sir ... that's the reason I didn't meet you.... This trip I brought Boy to Chicago.... You haven't seen my young son, have you? You must make his acquaintance to-morrow. We're most awfully vain about him ... think he's the only boy in the world. I suppose you feel that way about your little girls ... they _are_ beauties. They've got your eyes, though they have inherited Fannie's regular features...."
Would my tongue never stop wagging? What manner of woman had I suddenly become? I did not recognize myself. Was it a case of self-hypnosis and was I really feeling the interest and friendliness I pretended? He was not precisely an Adonis; there was something rough, almost uncouth, about him in spite of the veneer his money had brought. But there was a kindliness, a wholesouledness that made itself felt. Under any other conditions I should have liked him.... I saw him look at his watch.
"What time is it?... The performance will soon be over and Mr. Hartley will wonder where I am.... Wouldn't he be surprised to walk in here and see me dining with a strange man?... I hope you're not afraid of getting yourself talked about...."
"No, I guess not," he laughed back. I was silent for a time, while I wrestled with the breast of a squab. I felt his eyes upon me. When I looked at him I saw that he was revolving something in his mind, and I sensed the subject. I gave him time to think it over. After a while I leaned back in my chair.
"I'm sorry to confess it, but I'm beginning to feel a bit tired," I sighed. "Even your genial presence will not keep my eyes open much longer.... Edith I'm sure is feeling the strain, too. Well, we'll all sleep better to-night--after our worry. 'All's well that ends well'--and that reminds me--my husband and I were admiring a set of Shakespeare you have in your library."
"Um--yes; I remember it. I bought it for the binding. Don't believe I ever saw the inside of it...." He freshened my glass of wine.
"You're not much of a drinker, are you?"
"Haven't got brains enough to stand it," I answered flippantly.
He laughed; it had a true ring to it.
The game was in my hands.
"I guess you mean you've got brains enough to _with_stand it."
Would the dinner never come to an end? I thought. My body seemed to grow old with the minutes. At last the waiter cleared the table. When he had gone for a liqueur, Mr. F. took some letters from his pocket. From the packet he selected a piece of printed matter. He laid it face down upon the table while he replaced the letters. Then he looked at me, drumming with his fingers over the spot where the clipping lay. The waiter returned. Mr. F. drained the cognac glass and called for another. While it was being brought he folded his arms upon the table and leaned toward me.
"I wonder whether I'd better show you something...."
I assumed the same attitude; it was conducive to confidence.
"Show me what?"
His drumming became louder.
"No, I guess I won't!" ...
"Now, I call that unkind--to pique my curiosity and leave me suspended in mid-air."
He folded the clipping and rattled it between his fingers.
"Is that what you were going to show me? Wait a moment." ... I leaned toward him to better examine the paper, then relaxed against the back of the chair and smiled.
"I think I know what it is.... Will you lay me a wager? What will you wager that I can guess what that paper is the very first time?"
He sprawled and tilted back his chair good-naturedly.
"O, I'll bet you a box of candy or a bunch of violets."
"A five-pound box of candy--I don't like violets. Agreed?"
He nodded.
"It's a clipping from the Club Window...."
"Then you've seen it?"
"Of course I've seen it, silly man--hasn't everybody seen it? And wasn't my Willy furiously angry? He wanted to take the first train back to Chicago and clear out the whole establishment. It was all Fannie and I could do to calm him.... He said he was going to see you about it because he thought you and he should get together and take some kind of action against the slanderous sheet. I tell him he's foolish to pay any attention to it; just let it die of inanition. Don't you think so?"
"Well, I was a little upset myself when I read it. I didn't know what the devil to think...."
"Well, I know you've got too much sense to believe anything wrong about your wife.... I can appreciate how you and Will feel about it and that you'd like to make them retract--but--isn't it best to ignore it?--so long as _we_ know it's a malicious lie.... It's a shocking thing the way the press in this country construes license for freedom.... The libel laws are wholly inadequate. They manage that sort of thing much better in England.... There are so many evil-minded people in the world--don't you find it so?"
"Well, I confess, there's always somebody hanging around anxious to disseminate gossip, though I've never observed any of them helping along the nice things you hear."
"Now that we are on the subject, I'll tell you how this happened; the woman who concocted that libellous attack is an ugly perverted creature--she must be perverted or she would not be earning her livelihood in such a questionable way, don't you think so? Several years ago when she met my husband she volunteered to write some nice little personalia about him. He wasn't as well known then as now and every little bit helps, you know.... Well, Will kept up a desultory acquaintance with the woman and saw her from time to time. She was in New York when Fannie was there last winter, by the way. I don't know just how it came about, but the spinster scribbler developed a jealous streak and upbraided Will for being ungrateful for all she had done for him. I'm sure she could not have done a great deal for anyone in a wretched paper like the Club Window. To tell you the truth she was infatuated with Will. To use his own words--she made a play for him and he threw her down hard! Mr. Hartley is not given to that sort of thing--and if he were--you may be sure I should have something to say about it." I nodded sententiously.
"Yes, I guess you'd make it pretty warm for any poacher on your preserves!" We both laughed. I believe I even jerked my head pertly to mark my cocksureness. And, as I turned away, my eyes settled upon Will.
He was standing in the doorway, evidently having just entered, since he still wore his overcoat and carried his hat in his hand. I half-rose. My host followed my move.
"It's Will--it's Mr. Hartley ... come in, Will...." I beckoned to him and stole a glance at Mr. F. No, there was no hesitation on his part. He rose and crossed to meet Will with outstretched hand. My hand shook so that I could hardly raise the wine glass to my lips. I drained the last drop and sank into my chair. The game was won....
It was nearly an hour later when I rose to leave the table. Will had eaten the supper which Mr. F. had insisted upon ordering and they were still calling for wine. I had steered the conversation clear of the perilous rocks and felt that I could now safely leave the two men together. They rose with me.
"I'm sorry to leave such delightful company--I believe I said something like that an hour ago, did I not, Mr. F.?... I want to drop in on Edith and make my peace with her. I fear she'll feel neglected. If you require my services during the night please don't hesitate to ring me up, though I feel sure Fannie will be ever so much better now that you've arrived.
I presume you two gentlemen want to talk things over--that wretched slander, I mean--only--" and at this point I assumed a mock-serious attitude--"don't do anything until you hear from me, will you?... Now, please don't move.... I'll find my way.... Good-night, sir ... and don't forget that you owe me five pounds of the best candy in Cincinnati."
When I reached Mrs. F.'s room, her sister had already opened the door.
She had heard the elevator stop and was waiting. The girl's face was drawn and the circles under the eyes had deepened. Mrs. F., too, showed the strain of waiting.
"Mr. F. and my husband are downstairs; they were exchanging funny stories when I left ... there will be no pistols--nor a divorce on this count ... now, if you have another spell of hysterics I think I shall kill you.... Edith ... we had better begin calling each other 'dearie'
and that sort of thing to accustom ourselves, for we've known each other three years ... please repeat it after me so that you won't forget it.... Edith, should you mind pouring me a dose of Fannie's valerian?...
I think I took a wee drop too much ... my teeth are fairly chattering ... now let me think.... I'll begin at the moment we left the room together ... please don't interrupt unless there is something you do not grasp ... he may come at any moment...."