AFTER the departure of the ladies, Tucker and Crane stood an instant in silence on the piazza1. Solon, who had been waked from his customary afternoon nap by the frantic2 summons of Mrs. Falkener, was still a little confused as to all that had happened, and had gathered nothing clearly except that Burton was in some way very much to be blamed.
"It's too bad," he observed, "to have them go off like that. We shall miss them, I fear."
Crane was standing4 with his hands in his pockets, watching the tail-light as it disappeared down the drive.
"Let us avoid that, Tuck, by going away ourselves."
"You mean to leave here?"
"Why not? The experiment has not struck me as a very happy one. Our servants have gone, our guests have left us, and for my part, I am eager to be off as well."
The time had come, then, when Jane-Ellen was to be friendless and out of a job; the third act was here.
"Anything that suits you pleases me, Burton," said Tucker.
"In that case," answered Crane, "I will telephone Reed to come over at once and make arrangements for giving up the house. We can't, I suppose, catch that night train, but with luck we may get away to-morrow morning."
"You seem in a great hurry."
"I'd like never to see the place again," returned Burton.
In the moment of silence that followed this heartfelt exclamation5, a figure came briskly around the corner of the piazza, a figure discernible in the light shed by the front door.
"Oh, come here," said Crane.
The figure betrayed no sign of having heard, unless a slight accentuation in its limp might be so interpreted.
"What's your name?" shouted Burton.
The old man looked up.
"Yes, yes," he said, in a high shaking voice, "I'm lame3; you're right there, sir. I've been lame these twenty years, and carrying down all them trunks has put sich a crick in my back as never was."
"I asked you your name," repeated his employer.
"When I came? Why, this afternoon, sir. It was your butler engaged me. I worked at the hotel here once, and Mr. Smithfield he come to my wife and says, 'Susan,' he says, he knowing her since he was a little boy—"
"Let me look at you," said Crane sternly.
But the elderly man, still talking to himself, retreated into the shadow.
And then Tucker was surprised to hear his host exclaim with violence:
"By Jove, the young devil," and to see him hurl6 himself off the piazza at its highest point. He would have landed actually on top of his decrepit7 servitor, had not the old man developed an activity utterly8 unsuspected by Tucker, which enabled him to get away down the avenue with a speed that Crane could not surpass.
"Well, well, what are we coming to?" Tucker murmured as he watched them dodge9 and double around trees and bushes. Presently they passed out of the light from the house, and only the sound of their feet beating on the hard avenue indicated that the fugitive10 had taken to the open.
Solon was still peering nervously11 into the dark when at last his host returned. Crane was breathing hard, and held in his hand a small furry12 object that Tucker made out gradually to be a neat gray wig13.
"Oh," said Burton, still panting and slapping his side, "I haven't run so hard since I was in college. But I should have got him if it hadn't been for his superior knowledge of the ground."
"My dear Burton," said Tucker crossly, "what in the world have you been doing?"
"What have I been doing? I've been trying to catch that wretched boy, Brindlebury, but it's as well I didn't, I dare say. I thought his limp a little spectacular this afternoon when the trunks were being carried down. But his deafness—the young fool!—that deafness, never found anywhere but on the comic stage, was too much for me. He runs fast, I'll say that for him. He led me through a bramble hedge; backed through, himself. That's when I got his wig."
"I should not be surprised if we all were murdered in our beds," said Tucker.
"That's right, Tuck," said Crane, "look on the cheerful side. Come with me now, while I speak to Smithfield. I want to know what he has to say for himself."
Smithfield, looking particularly elegant in his shirt sleeves, a costume which shows off a slim figure to great advantage, was rather languidly setting the dinner-table for two; that is to say, he was rubbing a wine-glass, shaped like a miniature New England elm-tree, to remove the faint imprint14 of his own fingers.
"Smithfield," said Crane briskly, "I'm afraid your new useful man isn't going to be very useful. He seems to me too old."
Smithfield placed the glass deliberately15 upon the table.
"He's not so old as he appears, sir," he answered. "Only sixty-six his next birthday."
"A married man?"
"No, sir, a widower16 of many years. His wife died when her first baby was born—that's Mr. Crosslett-Billington's present chauffeur17. That's how I happened to get the old fellow. And when the rheumatism—"
"Smithfield," said Crane, "that's about enough. Put down that glass, put on your coat and hat, and get out. You're lying to me, and you've been lying to me from the beginning. Don't stay to pack your things; you can settle all that with Mr. Reed to-morrow. Get out of my house, and don't let me see you again. And," he added, throwing the gray wig into his hands, "there's a souvenir for you."
Smithfield, without the least change of expression, caught the wig, bowed, and withdrew.
"And now, Tuck," Crane added, turning to his lawyer, "I wish you would go and telephone Reed to come here at once and clear this whole thing up. Tell him I'll send the motor for him as soon as it comes back."
"It's dinner-time now," observed Tucker.
"Ask him to dinner then," said Crane. "I must go and see that Smithfield really gets out of this house."
Both tasks had been accomplished18 when at about eight o'clock Tucker and Crane again met in the hall. Smithfield had been actually seen off the place, Tucker had telephoned Reed and despatched the motor for him, and now the sound of an approaching car was heard.
"That can't be Reed, yet," said Tucker, "there hasn't been time."
Crane shook his head.
"It isn't the sound of my engine, either," he answered.
Headlights came sweeping19 up the drive, and a few minutes later, Lefferts, in full evening dress, entered the house.
"I'm afraid I'm a little bit late," he said, "but I missed a turn."
For an instant Crane regarded him blankly. Then he remembered that once, ages before, or perhaps no earlier than that very afternoon, he had invited Lefferts to dinner. And at the same time he realized what had not heretofore occurred to him, that there was no one in the house to serve dinner, except Jane-Ellen, who had, in all probability, cooked dinner for only two. Reed might be there at any minute. It was really necessary, in so acute a domestic crisis, to put pride in his pocket and go downstairs and speak to his cook.
He put his hand on Lefferts' shoulder.
"Awfully20 sorry, my dear fellow," he said, "that things are not quite as anticipated. Tucker will tell you we have had rather a stormy afternoon. Give him a cigarette and a cocktail21, Tuck, and I'll be back in a minute." He disappeared down the kitchen stairs.
With what different feelings, he said to himself, did he now descend22 those stairs; but, when he was actually in the kitchen, when Willoughby was once again bounding forward to greet him, and Jane-Ellen was allowing herself that slow curved smile of hers, he was surprised and disappointed to find that his feelings were, after all, much the same as before. Over his manner, however, he was still master, and that was cold and formal in the extreme.
"I wanted to speak to you, Jane-Ellen," he began, but she interrupted.
"I am not going to scold."
She laughed.
"Well, that's a wonder," and glancing at him she was astonished to find no answering smile. "Are you really angry at me," she asked, "on account of this afternoon?"
"This afternoon?"
"On account of that silly plan about Brindlebury? I did not know they were going to do it, and when it was done, I couldn't betray them, could I?"
Crane made a gesture that seemed to indicate that he really had no means of judging what his cook might or might not do.
"You believe me, don't you?"
"Believe you?" said Crane. "I haven't considered the question one way or the other."
"Why, Mr. Crane," said Jane-Ellen, "whatever has come over you that you should speak like that?"
"This has come over me," answered Crane, "that I came down here in a hurry to give some orders and not to discuss the question of veracity24."
"And what are your orders?" she said, in a tone of direful monotony.
Crane, as has been stated, was no coward, and even if he had been, anger would have lent him courage.
"There are two gentlemen coming to dine—four in all," and as he saw Jane-Ellen slightly beck her head at this, he added recklessly, "as Smithfield is gone, you will have to serve dinner as well as cook it."
"No," replied the cook. "No, indeed. Certainly not. I was engaged to cook, and I will cook to the very best of my abilities, but I was not engaged to be a maid of all work."
"You were engaged to do as you're told."
"There you are mistaken."
"Jane-Ellen, you will serve dinner."
"Mr. Crane, I will not."
The problem of the irresistible26 force and the immovable body seemed about to be demonstrated. They looked each other steadily27 and hostilely in the eyes.
"We seem," said Crane, "to be dealing28 with the eternal problem between employer and employee. You're not lazy, the work before you is nothing, but you deliberately choose to stand on your rights, on a purely29 technical point—"
"I do nothing of the kind."
"What are you doing then?"
"I'm making myself just as disagreeable as I can," answered Jane-Ellen. "Of course, I should have been delighted to do anything for any one who asked me politely. But when a man comes into my kitchen and talks about giving orders, and my doing as I'm told, and serving dinner, why, my answer is, he ought to have thought of his extra guests before he dismissed my brothers—"
"Your brothers!" cried Crane. "Do you mean to say that Smithfield is your brother too?"
"Well, I didn't mean to tell you," said the cook crossly, "but it happens to be true."
From the point of view of the irresistible force, the problem was now completely resolved.
"O Jane-Ellen!" he cried, "why in the world didn't you tell me so before?"
"I can't see what it has to do with things."
"It has everything," he answered. "It makes me see how wrong I have been, how rude. It makes me want to apologize for everything I have said since I came into the kitchen. It makes me ask you most humbly30 if you won't help me out in the ridiculous situation in which I find myself."
"But I don't see why Smithfield's being—"
"It would take a long time to explain," answered Burton, "although, I assure you, it can and shall be done. Perhaps this evening, after these tiresome31 men have gone, you will give me a few minutes. In the meantime, just let me say that I was angry at you, however wrongly, when I came down—"
"I'm not sure but that I'm still angry at you," said the cook, but she smiled as she said it.
"You have every right to be, and no reason," he returned. "And you are going to be an angel and serve dinner, aren't you?"
"I said I would if asked politely."
"Though how in the world I shall sit still and let you wait on me, I don't see."
"Oh," said Jane-Ellen, "if you never have anything harder to do than that, you are very different from most of your sex. And now," she added, "I'd better run upstairs and put two more places at the table, for it's dinner-time already."
"If I come back later in the evening, you won't turn me out of the kitchen?"
She was already on her way upstairs, but she turned with a smile.
"It's your kitchen, sir," she said.
Crane followed her slowly. It occurred to him that he must have a talk with Lefferts. He found him and Tucker making rather heavy weather of conversation in the drawing-room. Tucker had naturally enough determined32 to adopt Mrs. Falkener's views of Lefferts. He had conformed with Crane's request and given the poet a cigarette and a cocktail, but he had attempted no explanation beyond an unsatisfactory statement that the ladies had been called away unexpectedly.
"Nothing serious, I hope," Lefferts had said.
"I hope not," Tucker had returned, and not another word would he utter on the subject.
Lefferts was, therefore, glad to respond to Crane's invitation to come into the office for a few minutes and leave Tucker to the contemplation of his own loyalty33.
Left alone, Tucker's eager ears soon detected the sound of dishes in the dining-room, and he knew that this could be produced by the hand of no other than Jane-Ellen. The moment seemed to have been especially designed for his purpose, and he decided34 to take advantage of it.
Jane-Ellen was setting the table with far more energy than Smithfield had displayed; in fact her task was almost finished when Tucker entered, and, advancing to the mantelpiece, leaned his elbow on the shelf and smiled down upon her benevolently35.
"The time has come sooner than we anticipated when I can be of assistance to you, Jane-Ellen," he said.
"Yes, indeed, sir," she returned with a promptness that fifteen years before would have made his heart beat faster.
"Thank you for giving me the opportunity."
"The finger-bowls, sir," she interrupted, flicking36 a napkin in their direction, "they ought to be filled; not too full, sir; that's quite enough, it isn't a tub, you know. And now, if you've a match about you, and gentlemen always have matches, I believe, would you light the candles, and then, yes, I do think we're about ready now."
Tucker, who could not very well refuse such trivial services when he was offering one much more momentous37, poured a little water from the ice pitcher38 into the glass finger-bowls, but he did it with such dignity and from such a height that he spilled much of it over the doilies. The cook did not reprove him directly, but she changed the doily with a manner that seemed to suggest that another time she would do the job herself. And when Tucker took a neat gold match-box from his pocket and prepared to light the candles, she coolly took the whole thing out of his hands, remarking that he might set the shades on fire and then they'd be in what she described as "a nice way."
Observing that she was about to leave the room, he put himself before the door.
"I want just a word, Jane-Ellen."
"No time now, sir. Perhaps to-morrow morning."
"To-morrow will be too late. You must know this evening. I don't want to say a word against Mr. Crane; young men who have always had everything they want are naturally thoughtless. But I can't bear to see you turned out at a moment's notice—"
"Turned out?"
"Yes, Mr. Crane is going either to-night or to-morrow morning. Didn't he tell you?"
He had her attention now. She looked at him intently.
"Mr. Crane going? I thought he had the house for six weeks."
"So he had, but he's bored with it. Miss Falkener has gone, and he sees no reason for staying on. He'll be off either at midnight or in the morning. You're about to lose your place, Jane-Ellen."
She stood staring before her so blankly that it grieved him to see her so deeply concerned about the loss of her position, and he pressed on.
"I can't bear to think of your comfort being dependent on the caprices of Crane, or any one. Come to me, Jane-Ellen. This is no life for you, with your youth and beauty and charm. I could offer you a position that you need never leave, never, unless you wanted to—"
"Please move from the door, sir."
"Not until you've heard me," and he moved toward her as if to take her in his arms.
At some previous period of time, the Revellys, presided over by a less elegant functionary39 than Smithfield, must have been in the habit of summoning the family to meals by means of a large Japanese gong that now stood neglected in a corner. To this, Jane-Ellen sprang, and beat it with a vigor40 that made the house resound41.
The next instant Crane burst into the room.
"What's the matter?" he exclaimed, and added, fixing his eyes on his lawyer,
"What the deuce are you doing here, Tuck?"
"I," said Tucker, "was giving Jane-Ellen what help I could in setting the table."
"Like hell you were."
"Do you mean you doubt what I say?"
"You bet I do."
"And may I ask what you do think I was doing?" asked Tucker.
"I think you were making love to the cook."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," murmured the cook, "won't you please let me go down and attend to the dinner. The chicken will be terribly overdone42."
Nobody paid any attention to the request.
"Well," said Tucker, "I certainly wouldn't turn a poor girl out at a few hours' notice, as you mean to do."
"Who says I mean to?"
"You told me yourself you meant to leave to-morrow."
"And what kind of a job were you offering her?"
"I tell you I was trying to help her."
"And is that why she rang the gong?"
"She rang presumably because dinner was ready."
"There's another presumption43 that seems to me more probable."
"Burton, I shall not spend another night under your roof."
"I had reached the same conclusion."
Tucker turned with great dignity.
"The trouble is," he said, "that you have not the faintest idea of the conduct of a gentleman," and with this he walked slowly from the room.
The cook did not now seem so eager to get back to the kitchen. She stood twisting a napkin in her hands and looking at the floor, not unaware44, however, that her employer was looking at her.
"The trouble really is, Jane-Ellen," he said gently, "that you are too intolerably lovely."
"Oh, sir."
"'Oh, sir, oh, sir!' You say that as if every man you knew had not been saying the same thing to you for the last five years."
"Well, a good many have said it, sir," she whispered, "but it never sounded to me as it did when you said it." And after this she had the grace to dart46 through the door and downstairs, so fast that he could hear her little heels clatter47 on each step as she went.
In the hall he found Tucker, standing under a lamp, studying a time-table, with glasses set very far down his nose. Opposite, Lefferts was leaning against the wall, his arms folded and the expression on his face of one who has happened unexpectedly upon a very good moving picture show.
Seeing Crane, Tucker folded up his time-table and removed his glasses.
"Your other guest has just arrived," he observed.
"Oh, is Reed here?"
"Yes," said Lefferts, "he's in your office taking off his coat."
"And you may be interested to know," added Tucker, with a biting simplicity48 that had impressed many juries in its time, "you may be interested to know that he is the man I found kissing Jane-Ellen last week."
Hearing his name called, Reed came hurrying out.
"Yes," he said, advancing with outstretched hand, "here I am. Sorry to be late, but I was ready before—"
"We'll go in to dinner," said Crane shortly. Tucker and Reed moved first toward the dining-room. Lefferts drew his host aside.
"Just one moment," he said. "You went off so quickly when that gong rang that I did not have any chance to tell you how I feel about your generosity50. It makes—"
Crane grasped his hand.
"You have an opportunity this very moment," he replied, "to repay me for anything I ever have done or may do for you. Talk, my dear fellow, talk at dinner. Do nothing but talk. Otherwise, I shall knock those two men's heads together."
Lefferts smiled.
"I doubt if you'd get much sense into them even if you did," he murmured.
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1
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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6
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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8
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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12
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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imprint
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| n.印痕，痕迹；深刻的印象；vt.压印，牢记 | |
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15
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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18
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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19
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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30
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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31
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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32
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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33
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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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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35
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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36
flicking
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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37
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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39
functionary
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| n.官员；公职人员 | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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resound
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| v.回响 | |
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42
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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43
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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46
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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47
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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48
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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49
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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50
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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51
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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