The San Francisco call. [volume], February 27, 1910, Page 6, Image 6

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

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LUKE THRICE
T was not that the girl could not stir him, but that
he would not let himself be stirred. So he told
himself. Robert Carter, running the gauntlet of
many an opposing force in his lonely scaling of the
social heights, knew the masked batteries', the
ambuscades, the sudden dangers that lurked behind
the eyes of the woman he should look seriously upon.
And he would most carefully avoid them. Again, so
he told himself.
In his captivity as R. Pendleton Carteret, begin
ning to be known as one of the handsomest and most
presentable men about town, it was not surprising
that he should seek to settle the matter offhand, once
for all. He took a pardonable degree of pride in his
ability to analyze his own affairs and the conduct of
them. Throughout his remarkable advance upon
the inner circle of society no one of his natural gifts
had more surely contributed to his success than this,
that he could turn a calm and critical eye upon him
self at any moment. And as the eye had seen and
the brain directed, so he had done.
Here, then, was the strange thing. He had taken
his decision to forget Marion Keith the night before,
just as he would have decided to play a stock , or
cajole a friend or write a letter. And now it was the
morrow and he had forgotten. He saw her face
peeping over his shoulder as he scowled at himself
in the mirror. He saw it woven in the sunlight on
the curtain and scrolled in the smoke from his morn
ing cigarette. He shook his head, but still the face
was there.
He gripped this weakness and held it. He had
played at sentiment, played gracefully or eagerly or
desperately as the conditions demanded. But at no
moment had he been aware of more than an actor's
si'mpathy with his part. In all matters he had ruled
his own destiny, moving, speaking, even feeling at
his own quiet demand. And here, here was treason
in the camp.
But he had had warning; he was ready to admit
that. It was the sure warning, a signal caught from
the flash in her eyes, that had led to the resolve after
he had parted from her last evening. The signal had
told him enough. He must keep away.
It was a relief to remember that he was staying
with the Percival Champneys at their Long island
home. The charm of life beneath that roof was that
one need consult nothing beyond one's own whim for
amusement. He was minded to get into the open
with this little problem and fight it out' He dressed
hurriedly in walking togs, passed others of the party
on the veranda with a wave of his hand and 'struck
into a steady stride along the highway.
The'girl was Marion Keith, daughter of one of the
oldest families of Manhattan, with a hereditary claim
upon society which its modest fortune in real estate
could never have won for it in latter days. Carter,
had known her five months, having met her at the
Pulsains and since then at many of the houses which
were open to him. She and her mother frequently
visited the Champneys, riding over from their own
little summer cottage, 10 miles to the north. He
remembered now, with a sense of guilt at his blind
/ ness, that he had scarcely left her side during the
evening before.
AN ADVENTURE
As he tramped he told himself at every step that
it would never, never do. But the moment of self
revelation had left him distrustful and he could not
say it with conviction. He plodded on, arguing
stubbornlj'. Never before had he been made to feel
that he might let himself slip beyond control. The
fight went its course as he covered mile after mile.
Suddenly, with another shbek, he looked about him to
observe that all unconsciously he had taken the, -road
toward her home. He smiled a little grimly at this
discovery and went on toward the next bend in. the
road, promising himself with wholly foreign fury
that he would turn back just short of the spot where
he might glimpse the house. Decidedly, this was a
matter calling for his best attention. Then he came
to the turn, and she was; there!
She was standing by the upturned hood of a rakish
runabout, apparently contemplating: murderous -as
sault upon the engine with a formidable wrench.
There was indecision in her/ attitude, and. helplessness
in her grasp of the clumsy implement, but her/brows
were drawn straight with firm resolve.. He stood /a
moment, then 1 came forward hastily.
THE SOCIETY WOLF
A IM?W»ll»Mi0MlKS
"Please, the poor . engine," he . pleaded,- ''has- it
offended so seriously?" ; , ; , , >
I did | have. designs upon. it,", she answered,"look
ing up quickly, with quick comprehension and • no J
vestige ' of ' surprise. "It's been i misbehaving * dread-,
fully."/ --J/;-_" :// "'\u25a0 ' "V^'i "\Vf: : .! : ':-
Marion Keith made a wholly charming (picture; in \.
her loose automobile coat," with the fright* sleeve, rolled;
up to show a firm,' whiter forearm, her cheeks healthily,
flushed and her chestnut hair tumbled : - by . the wind ,
into , pleasing disorder. She was; very young/ but
somehow she contrived in hcrjmannerand her con
versation to avoid both youthfulness and .'precocity.-
Gray; eyes sparkled now a moment, .'marking {his *
amusement at the feminine attack. upon things -of iron]
and grease and power. Then a graver look came into;
them. , ,
"It simply must be fixed intime to catch>the after-;
noon train," she continued, 'bridging the 7 unspoken'
part of further greeting. . Carter -recalled,* with sud-.."
den uneasiness,' that frequently with oneanbther they
overleaped^the "unnecessary.. . ;\; \ . . \u25a0
"Do you know what's wrong?" he asked, stepping;
forward/ She shook' her 1 head. -~ " {'• ,/ \u25a0 •;
"It seems to me that one of: those bolt things was
loose. - I : !was;goihg':.toUighten > jL?^i^'.';i'-;-^;3-r';: J *>. i ' .-
He laughed and : ; fumbled '\u25a0\u25a0 about the 'machinery ; for;
some ; minutes, : then .took \u25a0 a twist at t the /crank/ .The
engine .was .-obdurate// He /repeated 'his: unsuccessful T
maneuvers, andf then tried ; the tank. ,. Seating: himself •
comfortably^onlthestep he.looked.up'atiher. /; /
"It's a ; very, simple matter, MissiKeith.-butj rather - ;
hopeless so/far as the T afternoon: train -is
You've run out of •gasoline", • '= • .'\u25a0 V ."..- ' \u25a0\u25a0' \u25a0"\u25a0•\u25a0
\u25a0 . "That's almost literally ". stupid;: isnjt ; it ?"_. siie .said;'
slowly, ; but \u25a0 there - was the tangible presence - of ' some
more; serious thought in her /voice. N.She'tlobked away,
over: the fields absently./ : ! -//; ; X;--;/?i r^ VVV V ; * '
' "Must , you catch x that /train ?"; he; asked, i taking . in :
her motor. garb. :• He/was reconciled. now- tb;being,with
her, .though something that thrilled .within •tiim-.would-*
have laughed. at the.word reconcile. -; f > '. \u25a0';*'•-\u25a0'' /.;« ; .
•"No.iit's a\ letter," -she "said." 1 "' ' /'; ;v; v . W.- : -:",'\ :/' \u25a0•: '/v'/
"Then*. that's "alli'rlgh't. ' I' can ,walk-back;in time'to*
catch 'the evening;, train/ ;Theyrcb'hjductorV,wi|lJma'H^
your.letter,in'towri.''f __ / .-.- '\u25a0 - ;. ' /' '. V; /;/,/ I '".; ..,',_' "'" ' /
. "That's the"*, strange thing,','. s.he. answered /after;, a
pause. , ; • "In- face of this providential; .breakdown 'I
don't • know I-want /to mail < this absolutely,
essentials letter: \u25a0 -There's'- a 'paradox, >if J ly6u-? like.";*
But she "did not smile. ; The:shadow;MhUierVVyes'-\vaV'
deeper, with, .it; seemed to 'him^'justYthc'ia'ntest-lhint^
of ' appeal: was \u25a0 troublirigv^her.. v " : As| He .
looked he 'grew;' sure of it. _
little; ; drawh.- -Then: lie, - tqo^jUnmindful/bf/cautionp:
bridged the v gap; of ' r convention:and^erhptyi/conversa
\u25a0tion.i;;^ r>\u25a0 .- ;v-.V; v-.V l '".: /.\u25a0-\u25a0 f ' : - v-^/ 1 ;. "^> "i'-H^lS^
"INSTANTLY- HE 'LET HIMSELF 1 GO"
x //''ls. there^— is there anything I can do?" He knew
; how; awkward/-how; impertinent even, the words must
have ; sounded to a J.tHird person. But 'there was no
" third person, 'and ; the; words came without calculation.
, His; resolve, his ; boasted reserve, all \ the logic of his
struggle, ,; vanished % into • thin j air. He was leaning
eagerly r toward 'her.? >She showed no /emotion, but
studied -him> intently, v '/• '\u25a0\u0084;." . ; •-:. ' ;
"Perhaps iy'ou \ can," "she answered '.slowly.
} "You may count uponrne," He broke out earnest
ly. 3 Cold 'reason -was/whispering to ' him j that he was
taking a; dangerous ; step, dangerous', to his great pur
\u25a0 pose and4o his peace.; of. mind. . But: cpld reason /had
little chance just- then,; when; the : breeze is weeping up
the: roadifluttered >her ; cloak and made-it " seem as if
sheiwere; swaying/ toward" him.'- Still she ;studied:him: .
"It :^ will seem "incomprehensible, possibly, that I
should tell; you this"« (she 'hesitated; it; was ; nbt-her,
wajr^usually 'tb':hcsitate)^''but:'l ; 'think' you will under
stand." '.THere was a .touch ; of wistfulness - beneath'
; her I girlish ; dignity/ He nodded; quickly, sympa
"theticaliy/*^/-'."^;''' ' ' '"' " : - ;'; ' ' ' .< , / '_:.../ ;:
' ' I "^VVhen . I' was very young,'' she went on, "still in
school, \I 'wrote-a very-foolish; note tot a — to a man.
It; was a childish thing to do,;but-I did not' know, that
it; was— capable 'of 1 misinferpretation." She flushed
f aiitUe, v and*againXarter/nio(ided/ / .; <
"This ; morning' ! I /received ' a /strange s cornmunica-
It said [that; thisjfoolish^note. of mine ,was*iri;the
; writer's hands .' and \ intimated ':. that . it— it , could * be \u0084'
used against me. /. I . was ; directed [to .answer to * a box
inUne < pos'tomce.v.This;is the answer that 1 was going
toTmail."'-;!.-' -;\u25a0*-/•"//'^..v" - ; "^.'.>,- >.-v v ' ;\u25a0 -:':'\u25a0\u25a0
": "Hbyv.rnuch'dJdiheiWant?"^ . s : " - -
/{.Her^color. deepened.^ "Five thousand dollars." .
• •- "What could I do?". -She made a little gesture of
dependence, j "I have' no money,* nor the. means .of
gettirig'-it.' I -simply.; told vthemv so." '; "
;-;. r "Oh,:it 'could not -be," she said • quickly... "It* r wbuld"
be impossible; ; to .believe }that' of :him: - : Some" one else
has r possessi6n"of 'the^note."-'- ;; r
>;.%\u25a0 "Have' V you 'l told 'yjour j mother?";" ;/-;'
if J;HJer. Ilips;tightehed1 lips;tightehed/ ii ,''lf i I/could have, seen my way'
.tq»do-sO;l*shduld riot; have toldi S'? u »" she answered
,simplyl .' >x // , \" .. ' '.\ ' ; '' : - .;/
:;"^"Just '. one ; more^ question,' { ' \u25a0\u25a0".he^.said,. rising, con
iyeying to- her' byihis, attitude more clearly (than iworcis
,wQuldyhave i ; doneUhat ': he ? had ' accepted t the ; trust ; she
?had?6ffere"d /him/ - l< -'.Wh6 -is ' the nian 'you wrote that
'note/to?"* '-'_ ' \u25a0<' ' ' \u25a0// '\u25a0'': '\u25a0'- '; " :". \u25a0\u25a0• \ :
She 'told; him and' he, recognized the name. ."Jerry.;
v Xosjke/^h'ad^azzl^
; Broadway -withi a ;briefj eccentric ; effulgence.- when/he :
f.carne^into/:; sole;- inheritance -of '?&,fortune^a;year'be
fore.;, J Carter ;<hadj- heard ipt * him" of \u25a0 late lin ;unsavoVy.-.
connection. The Virginian had not .the slightest
doubt, that Coskar "would -sink to trading upon the
/unthinking confidences of a child's" affection."
"You need * think ..no more /• of it, Miss Keith,"'
said. Carter finally.. "I; will take the affair upon my
self.. : I will walkback with you, to your house, and'
you can send some one: for, the machine.". She.
nodded and they made the journey almost in. silence.-
The: prospect of action relieved him. • His cold .
reason had little, fault -to find with the. antics of that
something else* within his heartwhen he parted from
Her/ . 7
Carter took the late.train to the city that evening
•and mapped out his pian during the ride. He must
first find Coskar, .track him to his quarters, learn his
condition and see , his 'companions. " He must find
some way to bring pressure upon him. * It would
not be difficult if reports had been true.. Then, sud
denly, he', remembered when he had last seen the
wastrel and (hat Coskar had been in company with a
:.man about whose figure he had noticed a^-touch of
familiarity. That recollection blossomed now, for
it came, to him that the second; man .had been
Arnold St. Geoff ry.
JUST>LIKE A BURGLAR
Carter had. never forgotten St. Geoff ry. Since the
frustrated elopement v with ' Mrs. Champney the
younger son of a fallen British house had played' a'
ytry. small and obscure part in the ,social : world. -
Carters private information was' that : St. Gebffry
eked a precarious •livelihood by despoiling, the but
terfly youth that could be brought fluttering to
certain "card clubs." Meanwhile he knew the Eng
lishman * for. an- unscrupulous schemer and his. own
implacable; enemy/ He' returned the sentiment cor
dially. If ' St.. Geoffry had a hand in this blackmail
ing plot, why so much the better. • ' £;"\u25a0„
/\u25a0'He took, up his post" opposite ibe likeliest ."card
club" about midnight, trusting; that he might find one
of the men he sought after the reaping of the nightly,
harvest. : It was well into the morning, though, still
dark, when he saw St. Geoffrey saunter down the
-steps. The Englishman, in long black coat and opera
hat, waited a, moment, in the street and was joined
a minute ' later by another man similarly dressed
whom Carter recognized, with asensation of triumph,
as Jerry Coskar. The two" walked" eastward, in
close converse," Carter following at a discreet dis
tance. In the block .between Lexington and Third
avenues they turned an apartment house of
very ordinary appearance.
The Virginian stepped to the opposite sidewalk
and .watched for a. light to show. The "front of the
building remained blank. AV'ith a quick look up and
down tht empty street. he crept down the. basement
steps. The door into the cellar was'unlatched and
he passed- through, feeling his way slowly along, the
rough- stone walls, around empty barrels and- piles
•of rubbish. Ten minutes of- painful groping through
the darkness brought him to the passage into • the
yard. Above, on the third floor, two windows
showed lights. f i ? 4^l
With a light; spring -Carter caught the top of the
.fence and 'pulled himself up. It was the definite step
into danger now. From this point he was. nothing
better .than a burglar and must take his chances.
But he meant ; to see the, inside of that third, floor
apartment. Standing up- and reaching out with, his
weight on the wall of. the building, he 'was able to
catch* the : bars -of the fire escape. After a short
struggle he stood on the little platform. Before
going any further he provided for retreat by un
hooking* the last iron ladder from where it hung
and placing it. in * position to tlie ground. " Then he
started to climb. ;//\u25a0<*: \u25a0'''' ,
Crouched on the fire. escape -landing at the third
floor, Carter held himself well back and. peered about,
the wall", into "the -room. It was poorly furnished
with chairs and a table covered .with cheap baize,-, at
which sat St.. Geoffry >and : Caskar facing each other?
They had thrown aside overcoats .and hats, but
\u25a0retained dress attire. They were bent close over
several slips. of paper. Coskar was figuring with/a
pencil. Between them was "jp.\ little pile of bills and .
.some silver. A gas jet flared overhead.... K'-j
v.\ Carter's motive had been to identify the two men
and their, dwelling place beyond possibility of error.
From that point he looked to be guided by' chance,
to -either, an opportunity to search their rooms -or
some kind of a clew to the whereabouts of the vital
letter.. He had not the slightest doubt that: St.
Geoffry had planned the blackniailing. He settled
himself- oh the : platform to watch "for the remaining
half hour before- dawn.
St. Geoff ry and Coskar' were talking, but. Carter
could not catch their, words. After a time Coskar
'pushed back his. chair, and waved a paper before the
other with a gesture of 'finality. St. Geoffry nodded,
rose", yawned, and walked slowly to the window.
Carter drew back tos the verge" of- the platform. St.'
" Geoff ryV shadow fell across the bars almost; at his
feet; presently it "moved away, and again -he yen
- tured a^100k. :."..-; .._\u25a0**' -.; ''^''-^r.'-K'- '\u25a0 -
- Coskar <, had left; the room. - A faint glow through
adoor^at. the opposite side showed a short hallway'.^
/St. /Geoffry/ was slipping off his dress "coat, 'pausing
to yawn again in the- operation/ He hung the gar
ment carefully over the back of a chair. 1 -Then ..he",
unbuttoned .his- waistcoat, took it- off andj threw it
carelessly over the coat. He picked a cigarette from
a box on 1 the table, -lighted it leisurely "and went
out into the I :' hallway,; turning 'into; another room, the"
entrance to -which was .beyond Carter's' vision. * . ' ;
v THE PINNED POCKET
-,\u25a0;./ The "-Virginian ' followed • St.; Geoff ry's - every • raove
'\u25a0\u25a0 ment-and continued; his inspection of the place! with*.
alert eyes. He^could see nothing 'that'- might aidhim.
He held' his post one minute, two minutes, then made .
ready to descend. As he turned. away his glance .'fell
upon St. , Geoffry 's waistcoat. It/was folded over, the
: chair/ with the lining; outward. • The ; inner .pocket'
was visible and Carter could see thatit'was ;held:to- -
"gether at'the top with air ordinary safety pin of,' large
size;/ . '" "_' " ' • .'*\u25a0;- . ; '. // '. "*
"t His mind 'was .still busy seeking adequate excuse
for his -precipitate act while he was gently, raising*
\u25a0 .'• thV-.w»ndow'and slipping over the 5i11... If St. "Geoffry
were in the: blackmailing scheme he would naturally
' be ; its leader,; siuce. he. 'would easily : dominate Coskar.
It was reasonable to suppose, moreover, -.that lie was
not the man to leave the' letter/in other .hands' thafi'.
; his own and . that he Would carry it on his own' person
wherever he' 1 ; went. _If vhe did carry • it' where' ."elsgp
could it be;if \u25a0 not; in v the pocket so carefully securecf?
Carter. -was across to the chair in .thrce= steps.:
Froni .the room \u25a0 beyond ] came \u25a0 the murmur rof voices.
He seized j the; waistcoat ; and > unfastened; the ;> pin -with
nervous fingers.-Z/Inside was a* thin; black pocketbook.
•He' c transferred ; it: to his, own coat," hurried rback; to:
the/ window arid //flung himself ;\out./upon the" fire
escaped Injiis^haste he stumbledand his. foot kicked
/ smartly/ against": the ; woodwork. . ; He" did not .'wait *• to \
•close; the window i behind him. ". /-^ /
The San Francisco Sunday Call
As^he grasped the iron ladder he heard a snoui
from the apartment. Instantly he let himself g<\
with hands at the side of the ladder, dropping with
torn palms to the second floor landing. He caught tha
next -ladder just as a revolver barked above and he
heard. the sharp spat .of* a bullet on the iron railing
beside him. He went down the second ladder "with
small .regard for hands or clothing. .. Swinging t»
the last/; thankful- even ] in that tense moment for his
foresight in placing it, he glanced upward a secon*
while he slid to the ground. Two figures filled the
open-, window and as he looked alternate splashes of
red flame shot at him. Al the moment he threw
himself "against the cellar door he felt a sharp twinge
of pain in his shoulder.
Through the dark toward the front he staggered,
falling twice. Out. on the basement steps he stayed
a moment tp see that the street was still safe, then
dashed westward. Faint shoutings sounded from
the rear." A light flashed on the first floor. At the
far side of Lexington avenue he turned to catch a
glimpse of a lumbering figure running from Third
avenue. .\ He hurried on, turned north and slowed
to a walk. when beyond all danger of pursuit.
His own rooms* were not far away and he let .
himself.in with fingers so scored and lacerated that
they could scarcely hold the key. He found that
the "bullet had. glanced lightly along his shoulder
blade, inflicting nothing but a scratch. Then he took
out the black pocketbook. It contained several
folded /papers and envelopes. One of these, well
worn from much handling, was addressed in a grace
ful hand to Jerry Coskar. The inclosure was signed
"Marion, Keith."
The next afternoon he was once more on the road
to the little Keith- cottage, riding one of Champney's
bays this time, and once more he was telling himself
that it was not that the girl could not stir him, but
that he would not let himself be stirred. The calm
'light of reason, that very valuable asset, assured him
that he had acted precipitately and without due con
sider tion of the consequences, but promised him that
he might be forgiven if he stopped right where he
was with the affair. He yielded the point to reason,
and meanwhile spurred his horse.
TRICKED
She saw him long before he reached the gate of
the short drive and was there to meet him, cool and
satisfying in a simple white dress. The something
that would not be the slave to reason within him
thrilled to warmth at the .sight of her. He swept
off his cap, smiling, and without a word of explana
tion held the letter out to her. She caught it with a
,startled cry, staring from the paper to his face in
wonder. [ :
"Mr. Carteret, how did you do it?" she breathed.
"Perhaps we needn't go into that," he answered,
lightly. "By the way," he went on, coming for want
of better, material to a question that had puzzled him
all the way out on the train, "why was it that — they —
should have taken just this time to put their plan into
execution? And there's another queer thing, Miss
Keith. Why should they have thought that you
would, or could, pay ahem? I confess I don't quite
see it."
•She'drew back from him a little with trouble in her
eyes. ' "Then, you have not heard? I thought you
knew." ..
"Heard? What?"
"That I am to be engaged."
"Good Lord. To whom?"
He glared a' moment, then brought a clenched fist
down on the pommel of his -saddle. This, then, was
what he had run his risk for, to clear away the
obstacle that had threatened her marriage. He saw it
all clearly. Osterman was. one of the wealthiest men
New York, twice a widower, thrice the girl's age.
It washer mother who had engineered the affair, of
course. Mrs. Keith would have no difficulty in recog
nizing the desirability of upholstering an ancient and
threadbare name with a generous -son in law. She
had chosen Osterman, probably, because she could
drive a hard bargain with him and bctause he was
old-, _
The girl had. tricked him, played with him! The
'letter would have been fatal, and he, weakened by
that warmth in \u25a0 his heart, had been the dupe. At
the thought he thrust out a hand. His fingers closed
over the letter. She gave it to him mechanically, con
fused by the look on his face. Ready and insistent,
there leaped into his brain the possibilities that lay
in > this little note. . He. could use it, first of all, to
smash the arrangement with Osterman. It gave him,
moreover, a hold on Marion Keith, if he used it
cleverly.
But he had forgotten the strange sympathy that
lay between himself and this woman while wild
thoughts were : forming behind his frown— thoughts
that* went hand, in hand with the upspringing flames
in his breast. She bridged the gap at a step.
, ' "I am" glad you have' it," she said, with direct
glance. "Now.you know why I was not sure yester
day, that I wanted to send them any answer at all."
"You; mean"
. "Before it was they who were going to prevent it,
and now it is you who will."
Dismay swept upon^him like a sheet of icy spray.
While she spoke he saw again what had warned him
before, an awakening, a' flash" in her eyes, the signal.
Ambition .flooded i back and the cold light of reason.
.Marion Keith had\ no money. nor~ the prospect of any.
He was .still far. from that unquestioned social emi
nence toward which his slow, careful efforts had
steadily pushed' him. Union with the honored name
of Keith" would not aid him. He would be nothing
butVbeggarly adventurer in the eyes of- the world he
lived for. All his. calm: power of judgment, all his
intuitive cower, of analysis awoke, alert, keen to aid
him out of the position his folly had led him into.
He was armored against her sympathetic under
standing now as he felt for the right word.
_ "Your mother"—^-he said slowly.
i-^-f Arid he had found the right word. No other could
have borne down_ her challenging gaze, no other could
have driven the color from the face that had lifted
proudly to ' his. She ; looked away, faltered— and he
was safe. It: was with a little sigh of relief, not un
.mixed with unacknowledged regret, perhaps, that he
struck; a match against his saddle, and held it against
the letter. They watched it burn, and when there was
nothing left but a corner he let it flutter to the ground
and they watched that, too, until it had crinkled to
ashes.-'
"I hope- you will not become a stranger to us as
Mrs." Osterman," he said at parting. \u25a0
.."I shall never, be. a stranger to you, Mr. Carteret," :
she; said softly, giving him her hand. *
: And as he wheeled away Robert Carterknew that
it.had been given him to negotiate '- an escape more
essential; to the> success -at which he aimed than a
score bfimighty .victories on the social battlefield.
H (Continued Next Sunday)