"To accomplish a dessert as simple and inexpensive as it is tasty," prescribes The Complete Manual of Cookery, p. 48, "take one cup of thick molasses--" But why should I infringe1 a copyright when the culinary reader may acquire the whole range of kitchen lore2 by expending3 eighty-nine cents plus postage on 39 T 337? Banneker had faithfully followed the prescribed instructions. The result had certainly been simple and inexpensive; presumably it would have proven tasty. He regretted and resented the rape4 of the pie. What aroused greater concern, however, was the presence of thieves. In the soft ground near the window he found some rather small footprints which suggested that it was the younger of the two hoboes who had committed the depredation5.
Theorizing, however, was not the order of his day. Routine and extra-routine claimed all his time. There was his supplementary6 report to make out; the marooned7 travelers in Manzanita to be looked after and their bitter complaints to be listened to; consultations8 over the wire as to the condition and probabilities of the roadbed, for the floods had come again; and in and out of it all, the busy, weary, indefatigable9 Gardner, giving to the agent as much information as he asked from him. When their final lists were compared, Banneker noticed that there was no name with the initials I.O.W. on Gardner's. He thought of mentioning the clue, but decided10 that it was of too little definiteness and importance. The news value of mystery, enhanced by youth and beauty, which the veriest cub11 who had ever smelled printer's ink would have appreciated, was a sealed book to him.
Not until late that afternoon did a rescue train limp cautiously along an improvised12 track to set the interrupted travelers on their way. Gardner went on it, leaving an address and an invitation to "keep in touch." Mr. Vanney took his departure with a few benign13 and well-chosen words of farewell, accompanied by the assurance that he would "make it his special purpose to commend," and so on. His nephew, Herbert Cressey, the lily-clad messenger, stopped at the station to shake hands and grin rather vacantly, and adjure14 Banneker, whom he addressed as "old chap," to be sure and look him up in the East; he'd be glad to see him any time. Banneker believed that he meant it. He promised to do so, though without particular interest. With the others departed Miss Camilla Van Arsdale's two emergency guests, one of them the rather splendid young woman who had helped with the wounded. They invaded Banneker's office with supplementary telegrams and talked about their hostess with that freedom which women of the world use before dogs or uniformed officials.
"What a woman!" said the amateur nurse.
"And what a house!" supplemented the other, a faded and lined middle-aged15 wife who had just sent a reassuring16 and very long wire to a husband in Pittsburgh.
"Very much the chatelaine; grande dame17 and that sort of thing," pursued the other. "One might almost think her English."
"No." The other shook her head positively18. "Old American. As old and as good as her name. You wouldn't flatter her by guessing her to be anything else. I dare say she would consider the average British aristocrat19 a little shoddy and loud."
"So they are when they come over here. But what on earth is her type doing out here, buried with a one-eyed, half-breed manservant?"
"And a concert grand piano. Don't forget that. She tunes20 it herself, too. Did you notice the tools? A possible romance. You've quite a nose for such things, Sue. Couldn't you get anything out of her?"
"It's much too good a nose to put in the crack of a door," retorted the pretty woman. "I shouldn't care to lay myself open to being snubbed by her. It might be painful."
"It probably would." The Pittsburgher turned to Banneker with a change of tone, implying that he could not have taken any possible heed21 of what went before. "Has Miss Van Arsdale lived here long, do you know?"
The agent looked at her intently for a moment before replying: "Longer than I have." He transferred his gaze to the pretty woman. "You two were her guests, weren't you?" he asked.
The visitors glanced at each other, half amused, half aghast. The tone and implication of the question had been too significant to be misunderstood. "Well, of all extraordinary--" began one of them under her breath; and the other said more loudly, "I really beg--" and then she, too, broke off.
They went out. "Chatelaine and knightly22 defender," commented the younger one in the refuge of the outer office. "Have we been dumped off a train into the midst of the Middle Ages? Where do you get station-agents like that?"
"The one at our suburban23 station chews tobacco and says 'Marm' through his nose."
Banneker emerged, seeking the conductor of the special with a message.
"He is rather a beautiful young thing, isn't he?" she added.
Returning, he helped them on the train with their hand-luggage. When the bustle24 and confusion of dispatching an extra were over, he sat down to think. But not of Miss Camilla Van Arsdale. That was an old story, though its chapters were few, and none of them as potentially eventful as this intrusion of Vanneys and female chatterers.
It was the molasses pie that stuck in his mind. There was no time to make another. Further, the thought of depredators hanging about disturbed him. That shack25 of his was full of Aladdin treasures, delivered by the summoned genii of the Great Book. Though it was secured by Little Guardian26 locks and fortified27 with the Scarem Buzz alarm, he did not feel sure of it. He decided to sleep there that night with his .45-caliber Sure-shot revolver. Let them come again; he'd give 'em a lesson! On second thought, he rebaited the window-ledge with a can of Special Juicy Apricot Preserve. At ten o'clock he turned in, determined28 to sleep lightly, and immediately plunged29 into fathomless30 depths of unconsciousness, lulled31 by a singing wind and the drone of the rain.
A light, flashing across his eyes, awakened32 him. For a moment he lay, dazed, confused by the gentle and unfamiliar33 oscillations of his hammock. Another flicker34 of light and a rumble35 of thunder brought him to his full senses. The rain had degenerated36 into a casual drizzle37 and the wind had withdrawn38 into the higher areas. He heard some one moving outside.
Very quietly he reached out to the stand at his elbow, got his revolver and his flashlight, and slipped to the floor. The malefactor39 without was approaching the window. Another flash of lightning would have revealed much to Banneker had he not been crouching40 close under the sill, on the inside, so that the radiance of his light, when he found the button, should not expose him to a straight shot.
A hand fumbled41 at the open window. Finger on trigger, Banneker held up his flashlight in his left hand and irradiated the spot. He saw the hand, groping, and on one of its fingers something which returned a more brilliant gleam than the electric ray. In his crass42 amazement43, the agent straightened up, a full mark for murder, staring at a diamond-and-ruby ring set upon a short, delicate finger.
No sound came from outside. But the hand became instantly tense. It fell upon the sill and clutched it so hard that the knuckles44 stood out, white, strained and garish45. Banneker's own strong hand descended46 upon the wrist. A voice said softly and tremulously:
"Please!"
The appeal went straight to Banneker's heart and quivered there, like a soft flame, like music heard in an unrealizable dream.
"Who are you?" he asked, and the voice said:
"Don't hurt me."
"Why should I?" returned Banneker stupidly.
"Some one did," said the voice.
"Who?" he demanded fiercely.
"Won't you let me go?" pleaded the voice.
In the shock of his discovery he had released the flash-lever so that this colloquy47 passed in darkness. Now he pressed it. A girlish figure was revealed, one protective arm thrown across the eyes.
"Don't strike me," said the girl again, and again Banneker's heart was shaken within him by such tremors48 as the crisis of some deadly fear might cause.
"You needn't be afraid," he stammered49.
"I've never been afraid before," she said, hanging her weight away from him. "Won't you let me go?"
His grip relaxed slightly, then tightened50 again. "Where to?"
"I don't know," said the appealing voice mournfully.
An inspiration came to Banneker. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked quietly.
"Of every thing. Of the night."
He pressed the flash into her hand, turning the light upon himself. "Look," he said.
It seemed to him that she could not fail to read in his face the profound and ardent51 wish to help her; to comfort and assure an uneasy and frightened spirit wandering in the night.
He heard a little, soft sigh. "I don't know you," said the voice. "Do I?"
"No," he answered soothingly52 as if to a child. "I'm the station-agent here. You must come in out of the wet."
"Very well."
He tossed an overcoat on over his pajamas53, ran to the door and swung it open. The tiny ray of light advanced, hesitated, advanced again. She walked into the shack, and immediately the rain burst again upon the outer world. Banneker's fleeting54 impression was of a vivid but dimmed beauty. He pushed forward a chair, found a blanket for her feet, lighted the "Quick-heater" oil-stove on which he did his cooking. She followed him with her eyes, deeply glowing but vague and troubled.
"This is not a station," she said.
"No. It's my shack. Are you cold?"
"Not very." She shivered a little.
"You say that some one hurt you?"
"Yes. They struck me. It made my head feel queer."
A murderous fury surged into his brain. His hand twitched55 toward his revolver.
"The hoboes," he whispered under his breath. "But they didn't rob you," he said aloud, looking at the jeweled hand.
"No. I don't think so. I ran away."
"Where was it?"
"On the train."
Enlightenment burst upon him. "You're sure--" he began. Then, "Tell me all you can about it."
"I don't remember anything. I was in my stateroom in the car. The door was open. Some one must have come in and struck me. Here." She put her left hand tenderly to her head.
Banneker, leaning over her, only half suppressed a cry. Back of the temple rose a great, puffed56, leaden-blue wale.
"Sit still," he said. "I'll fix it."
While he busied himself heating water, getting out clean bandages and gauze, she leaned back with half-closed eyes in which there was neither fear nor wonder nor curiosity: only a still content. Banneker washed the wound very carefully.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"My head feels queer. Inside."
"I think the hair ought to be cut away around the place. Right here. It's quite raw."
It was glorious hair. Not black, as Cressey had described it in his hasty sketch57 of the unknown I.O.W.; too alive with gleams and glints of luster58 for that. Nor were her eyes black, but rather of a deep-hued, clouded hazel, showing troubled shadows between their dark-lashed, heavy lids. Yet Banneker made no doubt but that this was the missing girl of Cressey's inquiry59.
"May I?" he said.
"Cut my hair?" she asked. "Oh, no!"
"Just a little, in one place. I think I can do it so that it won't show. There's so much of it."
"Please," she answered, yielding.
He was deft60. She sat quiet and soothed61 under his ministerings. Completed, the bandage looked not too unworkmanlike, and was cool and comforting to the hot throb62 of the wound.
"Our doctor went back on the train, worse luck!" he said.
"I don't want any other doctor," she murmured. "I'd rather have you."
"But I'm not a doctor."
"No," she acquiesced63. "Who are you? Did you tell me? You are one of the passengers, aren't you?"
"I'm the station-agent at Manzanita."
For a moment she looked at him wonderingly. "Are you? I don't seem to understand. My head is very queer."
"Don't try to. Here's some tea and crackers64."
"I'm starved," she said.
With subtle stirrings of delight, he watched her eat the bit that he had prepared for her while heating the water. But he was wise enough to know that she must not have much while the extent of her injury was still undetermined.
"Are you wet?" he inquired.
She nodded. "I haven't been dry since the flood."
"I have a room with a real stove in it over the station. I'll build a fire, and you must take off your wet things and go to bed and sleep. If you need anything you can hammer on the floor."
"But you--"
"I'll be in my office, below. I'm on night duty to-night," said he, tactfully fabricating.
"Very well. You're awfully65 kind."
He adjusted the oil-stove, threw a warmed blanket over her feet, and hurried to his room to build the promised fire. When he came back she smiled.
"You are good to me! It's stupid of me--my head is so queer--did you say you were--"
"The station-agent. My name is Banneker. I'm responsible to the company for your safety and comfort. You're not to worry about it, nor think about it, nor ask any questions."
"No," she agreed, and rose.
He threw the blanket around her shoulders. At the protective touch she slipped her hand through his arm. So they went out into the night.
Mounting the stairs, she stumbled, and for a moment he felt the firm, warm pressure of her body against him. It shook him strangely.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. And, a moment later, "Good-night, and thank you."
Taking the hand which she held out, he returned her good-night. The door closed. He turned away and was halfway66 down the flight when a sudden thought recalled him. He tapped on the door.
"What is it?" asked the serene67 music of the voice.
"I don't want to bother you, but there's just one thing I forgot. Please give me your name."
"What for?" returned the voice doubtfully.
"I must report it to the company."
"Must you?" The voice seemed to be vaguely68 troubled. "To-night?"
"Don't give a thought to it," he said. "To-morrow will do just as well. I'm sorry to have troubled you."
"Good-night," she said again.
"Can't remember her own name!" thought Banneker, moved and pitiful.
Darkness and quiet were grateful to him as he entered the office. By sense of direction he found his chair, and sank into it. Overhead he could hear the soft sound of her feet moving about the room, his room. Quiet succeeded. Banneker, leagues removed from sleep, or the hope of it, despite his bodily weariness, followed the spirit of wonder through starlit and sunlit realms of dream.
The telegraph-receiver clicked. Not his call. But it brought him back to actualities. He lighted his lamp and brought down the letter-file from which had been extracted the description of the wreck69 for Gardner of the Angelica City Herald70.
Drawing out the special paper, he looked at the heading and smiled. "Letters to Nobody." He took a fresh sheet and began to write. Through the night he wrote and dreamed and dozed71 and wrote again. When a sound of song, faint and sweet and imminent72, roused him to lift his sleep-bowed head from the desk upon which it had sunk, the gray, soiled light of a stormy morning was in his eyes. The last words he had written were:
"The breast of the world rises and falls with your breathing."
Banneker was twenty-four years old, and had the untainted soul of a boy of sixteen.
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infringe
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| v.违反，触犯，侵害 | |
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lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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expending
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| v.花费( expend的现在分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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rape
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| n.抢夺，掠夺，强奸；vt.掠夺，抢夺，强奸 | |
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depredation
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| n.掠夺，蹂躏 | |
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supplementary
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| adj.补充的，附加的 | |
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marooned
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| adj.被围困的；孤立无援的；无法脱身的 | |
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consultations
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| n.磋商（会议）( consultation的名词复数 )；商讨会；协商会；查找 | |
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indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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adjure
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| v.郑重敦促(恳请) | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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degenerated
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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malefactor
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| n.罪犯 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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crass
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| adj.愚钝的，粗糙的；彻底的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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tremors
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| 震颤( tremor的名词复数 )； 战栗； 震颤声； 大地的轻微震动 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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luster
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| n.光辉；光泽，光亮；荣誉 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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67
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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68
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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69
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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70
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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71
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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