The Last Woman Page 5

  CHAPTER V

  BEATRICE BRUNSWICK'S PLOT

  The chauffeur to whom the order was given that the taxicab be drivento the Church of the Transfiguration, proved to be an adept andskillful driver; one of those who can exceed the speed limit and thenslow down his machine so quickly and quietly at the sight of abluecoat that he inevitably escapes arrest for his transgression. Asa consequence, there was very little time for conversation betweenthese two apparently mad young persons during the journey between theopera-house and the church.

  Little as there was, the greater part of it was passed in silence. Butwhen they were quite near to their destination, Beatrice spoke upquickly and rather sharply to her companion.

  "Roderick, have you for a moment supposed that I have taken youseriously in this mad proposition you have made to me, to-night?" shedemanded. "Surely, you don't think that, do you?"

  Duncan stared at her, speechless. Then, with a vehemence that canbetter be imagined than described he exclaimed, half-angrily,half-resentfully:

  "Then, in God's name, Beatrice, why are we here? and why should we goto the church at all?"

  "Were you serious about it?" she asked.

  "I certainly was--and am, now!"

  "Foolish boy!" she exclaimed, laughing with nervous apprehension. Whatmore she might have said on this point was interrupted by the skiddingof the taxicab as they were whirled around the corner of Twenty-ninthstreet.

  "Why, in heaven's name, are we here, then?" he demanded, just as theywere drawn swiftly to the curb, and the cab came to a stop in front ofthe church.

  "You requested my help, did you not?" she replied.

  "I certainly did."

  The chauffeur, in the meantime, had leaped to the pavement and thrownopen the door of the cab.

  "You may close the door again, chauffeur, and wait where you are forfurther orders," Beatrice told him, calmly. And when that was done,she again addressed her companion. "You have called me a 'good fellow'to-night," she said slowly, with quiet distinctness, "and I mean tobe one. I have always meant to be one, and to a great extent I think Ihave succeeded. But I would have to be a much better fellow than I amto go to the extent of marrying a man who does not love me, and whodoes love another, simply to help him out of a mess in which his ownstupidity has involved him. Wouldn't I? Ask yourself the question!"

  Duncan shrugged his shoulders and parted his lips to reply, but shewent on rapidly:

  "That is asking me to go rather farther than I would care to venture,my friend; or you, either, if you should stop to think about it. Yourproposition is utterly a selfish one. You must know that. You havethought only of yourself and the mess you are in. You do not considerme at all. You would cheerfully use me as a means of venting yourspite--or shall I call it, temper?--against Patricia. For the moment,you are intensely angry at her. Not only that, you feel that you havebeen out-done, at every point. That she has acted unreasonably, I willnot deny. But what a silly thing it would be for you and me to standtogether at the altar, and pledge ourselves to each other for life, oruntil such time as the divorce-courts might intervene, just because ofthe events of to-day!" She was smiling upon him now, as if he were,indeed, a foolish boy who needed chiding.

  Duncan pulled himself together. For the first time since their exitfrom the opera-house, and for perhaps the first time since the momentwhen Patricia discovered him in the private office of her father, hewas capable of acting and thinking quite naturally.

  "Beatrice," he said, "if the sentiments you have just expressed arethe same as those you felt before you left the box at the opera-house,would you mind telling me why in the world you have acted as you havedone? Why, in the name of all that's phenomenal and strange, are wehere?"

  She turned her head away from him, and peered through the glass doorat the chauffeur, who was striding slowly up and down the pavementoutside, and who had taken the opportunity to indulge himself in asmoke.

  "I did it," she said, "because I thought I saw a way to help you andPatricia out of your difficulties. I saw that we could leave the boxwithout her knowledge, and believed that neither she nor hercompanions would discover our departure for some time afterward. Iremembered just then that Patricia had witnessed the tender andsomewhat touching scene in the box between you and me. My goodness,Roderick! I hope you didn't think that I meant _that_! It was all donefor Patricia's benefit, you goose! Didn't you know that? Did yousuppose that I had suddenly fallen head over heels in love with you?You're not very complimentary, are you? Or is it that you werethrowing bouquets at yourself?"

  "Will you tell me why you did it?" he asked, flushing hotly under thejibe.

  "Because I wished Patricia to see it."

  "Why?"

  "I thought it might bring her to her senses."

  "How, Beatrice?"

  "Jealousy, you dunce!"

  "But why the rest of your superb play-acting?"

  "It all works out toward the same end. Don't you suppose that Patriciais in hot water, by this time? When she realized that we had sneakedaway, to put it plainly, don't you think she would put two and twotogether, and make four out of it?"

  "It strikes me," he interrupted her, with a light laugh, "that this isa case where two are supposed to make one."

  "We won't joke about it, if you please. Still, that isn't a bad idea.But, at all events, I wish Patricia to believe that we left theopera-house because, for the moment at least, you preferred my societyto hers. If we can convince her that we ran away to be married, somuch the better!"

  "You are deeper than I am, Bee. I confess that you've got me up atree. I haven't the least idea what you are driving at, but I am quitewilling to be taught. What is to be the next play in this little gameof yours?"

  "You need not be nasty about it, when I'm trying to help you," sheretorted.

  "What's the next move, Bee? I couldn't induce you to give me anotherhug, could I? There, now--don't get angry. I liked it, whether youdid, or not. You put a lot of ginger into it, too. Oh, yes, I likedit!"

  For a moment, it seemed as if she would resent his bantering tone;then she shrugged her shoulders, and smiled.

  "I did it to help you--to make Patricia jealous." She laughed lightly,still keeping her face turned away from him. "I saw the curtains part,and recognized Patricia. With the recognition, there came also arevelation as to how I could best help you both. If I had dreamed thatyou would suppose for a moment I was in earnest, do you think I wouldhave done it? And when I told you that I would come here, to thischurch, and would marry you like this--good heavens!--did you flatteryourself I meant _that_?"

  "Of course, I did."

  "Are you in earnest, Roderick Duncan? If I thought your selfishness,your egotism, was as great as that, I--I don't know what I'd do! Haveyou so little regard for me that you think I would become your wife,in this manner, knowing as I do that you love another--and when thatother is my best friend--when I know that Patricia Langdon loves you?For I do know it. Do you--did you think that of me--did you think thatof me?" She was a-tremble with indignation, now.

  "By Jove, Bee, I acted like a brute, didn't I? I didn't consider you;I was selfish enough to think of no one but myself. But, all the same,my girl, I was in dead earnest. If you've got the pluck and the spiritto go through with it, now, we'll see the thing out, side by side,just as we started, and I will make you, perhaps, a better husbandthan if the circumstances were different. You say that Patricia lovesme: I doubt it. I thought so once, but I don't now. It doesn't matter,anyhow. I shall ask you again calmly, with all humility and respect;with all seriousness, too: will you be my wife, and will you marry me,now?"

  "I will reply with equal seriousness, Roderick," she retorted,mockingly. "No."

  He uttered a sigh, and there was so much satisfied relief in it thatshe laughed aloud, but without bitterness.

  "Then, what shall we do? Sit here in this cab, in front of the Churchof the Transfiguration, for the balance of the night? Or shall we goaround to Delmonico's and have some supp
er?" he asked her.

  "I think that last suggestion of yours is a very excellent one," shereplied, naively. "But we will wait yet a few moments before we start.We haven't been at the Church of the Transfiguration quite long enoughto have been married, and to have come out of it again."

  Duncan stared at her. Then, slowly, a smile lighted up his eyes andrelaxed the lines of his face, so that after a moment he chuckled.Presently, he laughed.

  "By Jove, Bee, you're a corker!" he said. "You can give me cards andspades, and beat me hands down, when it comes to a matter of finesse.Is it your idea to play out the other part of the game? What will itavail, if we do?"

  "Never mind that," she replied. "In order to carry out the scheme, andto make it work itself out, as it should, one thing more is necessary.It will be great fun, too--if we don't carry it too far."

  "What is that?" he asked her. "What more is necessary?"

  "I want you to tell the chauffeur to stop for a moment at theside-entrance to the Hotel Breslin; there I wish you to leave me alonein the cab, while you go inside, and telephone to the opera-house, tohave Jack Gardner and his wife meet us as soon as they can, atDelmonico's for supper. You may not have noticed, but they occupiedtheir box, which is directly opposite the Langdon's. One of the usherswill carry the message to him, and Jack will come, if he has noprevious engagement."

  "But what in the name of--what in the world do you want of JackGardner and his wife? what have they to do with it?"

  "I want them to take supper with us, that is all; and then I want afew moments' conversation with Jack, while you talk with Sally."

  They were driven to the Breslin, and the telephone-message was sent.Duncan waited for a reply, and received one, to the effect that Mr.and Mrs. Gardner would come at once. And so, not long afterward, thefour occupied a conspicuous table of Beatrice's selection, at thefamous restaurant.

  Recalling the injunction put upon him to occupy himself with SallyGardner, Duncan began to get a glimmer of understanding regarding theplot that Beatrice had concocted. He, therefore, gave all of hisattention to the spirited and charming wife of the young copper-king.Jack Gardner was everybody's friend. He loved a joke better thananyone else in the world, and a practical joke better than any otherkind. He was especially fond of Roderick Duncan, and both he and hiswife were intimate friends of Beatrice. Duncan noticed, while talkingwith Sally, that Jack and Beatrice had drawn their chairs more closelytogether, toward a corner of the table, and were now whisperingtogether with low-toned eagerness. He could hear no word of whatBeatrice said, but an occasional exclamation of Gardner's came to him.He saw that Beatrice was talking rapidly, with intense earnestness,and that Gardner seemed to be highly amused, even elated, by what shewas saying. Such expressions as, "By Jove, that's the best, ever!""Sure, I can do it!" and, "You just leave it to me!" came to hisears, from Gardner; and presently the latter excused himself and leftthe table.

  If they had followed him, they would have seen that he went to thetelephone, where he called up several numbers before he obtained theperson he sought; but he presently returned, apparently in the best ofspirits, and with intense satisfaction written upon every line of hissmiling features.

  As he seated himself at the table, other guests were just assumingplaces at another one, quite near to them, and he bent forward towardBeatrice, saying in a tone which their companion could not hear:

  "I say, Beatrice, it's all working out to the queen's taste! When youget a chance, look over your left shoulder. Gee! but this is funny!All the same, though, I expect I'll get myself into a very devil of astew. When that reporter discovers that I've given him an out-and-outfake, he'll go gunning for me as sure as you are alive."

  "Is he coming here to see you?" she asked him.

  "Sure. He will be here in about twenty minutes."

  "Now, tell me who it is at the table behind me. I don't care to lookaround, to discover for myself."

  "Why, Old Steve and his Juno; and they've got Malcolm Melvin withthem." He leaned back in his chair, and laughed; then, he emptied thechampagne-glass he had been playing with. Presently, he chuckledagain.

  "Tell you what, Beatrice," he said, in an undertone, "I almost wishthat you had taken Duncan at his word, and married him. You shouldhave called that bluff. Sure thing! Think of the millions he's got,and--"

  "Hush!"

  "Oh, all right. All the same--"

  "Hush, I tell you! Don't you see that Sally is trying to talk to you?"

  After that, the conversation became general among the four. During it,Jack Gardner sought and found an opportunity to wave a greeting to thelate arrivals, whose names he had just mentioned to Beatrice. Duncan,observing him, glanced also in that direction, and, meeting Patricia'seyes fixed directly upon him, flushed hotly as he, also, bowed to her.Then, Sally and Beatrice turned their heads and nodded, as anothercourse of the service was placed upon the table before them.

  It was not yet finished when the head-waiter brought a card to JackGardner, who instantly left his seat for the second time that evening,and, with a curt, "I'll be back in a moment," departed, withoutfurther excuse. The person whose card he had received, was awaitinghim in one of the reception-rooms; and the two shook hands cordially,for they were old acquaintances and on excellent terms with eachother. It was not the first time they had got their heads togetherconcerning matters for publication, although, in this instance, thenewspaper man was to be made a wholly innocent party in the affair.

  Burke Radnor was a newspaper man of prominence in New York. He was oneof the few men of his profession who have succeeded in attainingsufficient distinction to establish themselves independently, and his"stories" were eagerly sought by all of the great dailies.

  The two seated themselves in a corner of the room, and talked togetherearnestly, although in whispers, for a considerable time. It wasGardner who did most of the talking; Radnor only occasionallyinterjected a questioning remark. When they parted, it was with ahearty hand-clasp, and this remark from Radnor:

  "I'll fix it up all right, old man; don't you worry. Nobody shall knowthat I got the story from you. But it is a jim dandy, and no mistake!"

  "Which of the papers will you use it in, do you think?" askedGardner.

  "I am not sure as to that. To the one that will pay the best price fora first-class 'beat,' for that's what it is. Anyhow, that part of itis none of your business. Now that I've got the story, I shall handleit as I think best, and you can bet your sweet life it will be usedfor all it's worth!"

  Gardner returned to the dining-room, with vague misgivings concerningwhat he had done; his smile was a bit less self-satisfied. Radnor,apparently, left the building. But the shrewd news-gatherer went nofarther than the entrance, where he wheeled about and returned; andthis time he sent his card to Roderick Duncan. Having "nailed thestory," the proper thing now was to obtain an interview with one ofthe principals concerned in it; with both, if possible.

  Duncan received the card, wonderingly. He knew Radnor, and liked him;but he could not imagine what the newspaper man could want with him atthat particular time. The truth about it, did not even vaguely occurto him.

  Excusing himself, he left the table and presently found Radnor in thesame room where the recent interview with Jack Gardner had takenplace.

  "Hello, Radnor," said Duncan, cordially, extending his hand. "Theremust be something doing when you call me away from a supper table, atDel's. Make it as brief as possible--won't you?--because I am dining,and--"

  "Oh, I won't keep you but a moment, Mr. Duncan," was the quick reply."I just want to ask you a question or two about the interestingceremony that took place this evening--that is all."

  "Eh? What's that? Ceremony? What the devil are you talking about?"

  "Look here, Mr. Duncan, you know perfectly well that I am your friend,and that I'll use you as handsomely as possible in the columns of anypaper that gets this story. But I've got the straight tip, and I knowwhat I am talking about. I thought, possibly, you might wish to say af
ew words in explanation--just to tone the thing down, to give it themark of authenticity, you know. I thought you'd like to be quoted, andto know, from me, that the story'll be all right. On the level, now,isn't that better?"

  Duncan laughed. He did not in the least understand. He had the ideathat Radnor had been drinking.

  "Burke," he said; "upon my life, this is the first time I ever saw youwhen you had taken too much to drink."

  "Is that the way you are going to reply to me?" asked Radnor, with allthe insistence of a thoroughly trained newspaper man. "You'd best useme right, you know. It's a great 'beat,' and I want all of it. I'dlike to talk with the bride, too, if you can fix--"

  "But I don't know what the blazes you are talking about, man."

  "I am talking about the little ceremony that took place this eveningat the Little Church Around the Corner, and was indulged in betweenyou and the former Miss Brunswick; as a sort of _entr'acte_ to theopera of Salome," said Radnor, with slow distinctness.

  Duncan stiffened where he stood. The smile left his face, and his eyesnarrowed, while his clean-cut features seemed to harden in every lineof them.

  "Radnor," he said with a slow drawl, which to those who knew him bestbetrayed intense anger, "you will be good enough to explain to me,here and now, in plain English and in as few words as possible,exactly what you mean."

  "I mean," was the ready retort, "that you and Miss Beatrice Brunswickwere married to-night at the Little Church Around the Corner, betweentwo of the acts of Salome. I mean that I've got the straight tip, andI know it to be true. I wish to quote you, if possible, in what Ishall write about it for the morning papers. I'd like to get astatement from the bride, too."

  "Are you crazy, Radnor?" asked Duncan, bending forward, his face whiteand set, and his eyes hard and cold; for Roderick Duncan, with all hisapparent quietude, was a man whom it was not safe to try too far.

  "No, I'm not crazy. I'm just telling you what's what. I'll get thewhole story, and what's more, I'll print it in the morning papers! Ifyou wish to say anything in explanation of the incident, I shall beglad to quote you; but, otherwise, I shall take the liberty of drawingmy own inferences, and assuming my own conclusions, from the story Ihave heard. I tell you, Mr. Duncan, I've got it straight, and I knowit to be true."

  "It is not true," said Duncan, quietly. "The person who told you sucha story as that lied."

  Radnor shrugged his shoulders, and laughed, ironically.

  "I don't know that I blame you for denying it," he said, "but I happento know differently. If you choose to deny it, I'll send my cardinside to Mrs. Duncan, and we'll see, then, what we shall see. Youcan't bluff me, Mr. Duncan. I'm not that sort. If you won't talk,perhaps the former Miss Brunswick, will, and--"

  Radnor got no further than that. Duncan's rage, the moment heunderstood the situation and fully realized the possible consequencesof it in the hands of this ubiquitous newspaper man, overcame him,utterly. His right arm shot out with terrific force, his clenched fistcaught Radnor squarely on the point of the chin, and the latter wasknocked half-senseless to the floor. Waiters, and attendants about theplace rushed toward them; but Duncan slowly drew a handkerchief fromone of his pockets, and, calmly wiping his hands upon it, said to themanager:

  "Kick the dog into the street; that is what he deserves. He probablyfollowed me when I came away from the opera-house, and now he istrying to make capital out of a meaningless incident. Put him out, anddon't permit him to pass the door again to-night; otherwise, he willseek to annoy a lady who is here."

  Then, he turned calmly about, and, although his features were stillpale, reentered the dining-room as if nothing had happened. Duncanconfidently believed that he had correctly estimated the cause ofRadnor's quest for news. It never occurred to him that BeatriceBrunswick was herself, through the agency of Jack Gardner, the causeof it.