Chapter 10

Jack and Bobo dined in the main restaurant of the Madagascar. By this time they were pretty well known in the hotel, and curious envious glances followed them wherever they went. It was meat and drink to Bobo, though he affected to be much annoyed by it.

"What do you suppose they're staring at," he drawled.

"Your fatal beauty," said Jack.

Evening dress had gone to Bobo's head somewhat. The big white shirt front puffed out alarmingly. Among his new possessions was a fine watch that he drew out to consult every three minutes or so. He could not contain his impatience to get to the party.

"Hadn't we better be moving?"

"Good Lord! It isn't eight o'clock. What do you think this is, an M. E. social?"

"What time are you going, then?"

"About ten, I should say. The later we come, the more effect it will have."

"How will we put in the time until then?"

"I have another date. I'll take you along with me."

Bobo, when he forgot himself, dropped into his usual Tenderloin slang. "Gee! I always wanted to go into society. I felt I was fitted for it. I like everything of the choicest. These common mutts gimme a pain. I'll show the swell guys a thing or two to-night. They'll have to hand it to me."

"You'd better cut out the guys and the gimmes," suggested Jack.

"Oh, I've got a line of classy talk all right when I need it. Wasn't I dresser for Bill Calverly the matinee idol season before last. He used to show me all his mash notes. How's this?"

Bobo screwed an imaginary monocle into his eye, and was suddenly prostrated with languor. "—Er—How-de-do, Mrs. Cleaver. So sorry we were late. But a lawyer fellow turned up just as I was leaving my hotel, and I couldn't put him off. Business is such a bother, isn't it?"

"Great!" said Jack dryly, "but tip me a wink before you begin so I can beat it."

"Oh, you've got to back me up!" said Bobo, suddenly scared and natural. "For the love of Mike don't leave me stranded on the grand stairway."

Bobo's limousine, the perfection of luxury and elegance, was waiting for them in front of the hotel. Bobo in silk hat, evening overcoat, fluffy white scarf, and white kids, with the inevitable yellow stick crooked over his arm enjoyed a wonderful moment standing on the top step of the Madagascar waiting for his car to pull up. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, and the humble pedestrians looked up admiringly.

It is not vouchsafed to many of us so completely to realize our dreams. Bobo's dream was based on the cigarette advertisements in color on the back covers of popular magazines. Jack, similarly attired, watched him with a twinkle from a respectful stand to the rear. In his enjoyment of the situation he was perfectly content to play a secondary part. It was lots more fun, he thought, to pull the wires from behind the scenes.

When they got in the car Jack gave the chauffeur an address on East 69th Street.

"What are we going to Yorkville for?" asked Bobo.

"To see an old friend."

"I hate to leave the white lights."

Bobo insisted on keeping the dome light burning. Jack suspected that the real reason his heart had been set on a limousine was that the wide windows afforded the populace every facility to see him pass in his glory.

They drew up before a cheap apartment house, one of a long row in an untidy street.

"Gee! what a crummy joint!" said Bobo fastidiously.

"It would have seemed plenty good enough yesterday," said Jack coldly.

Jack had no desire to take Bobo up-stairs with him. "You stay here till I come down," he said. "I may be an hour, but you've got plenty of cigars. Take a snooze. We'll be up late."

In the vestibule Jack searched among the double row of labels for the name that made his heart beat faster—Storer. Pressing the bell button, presently an answering click in the door latch informed him that the way in was open. He made his way up four flights of narrow ill-lighted stairs with a dirty carpet. Through the thin doors issued the sounds of incontinent domestic broils, and every landing offered the nose a different smell—but all unpleasant. Jack shuddered—not because he couldn't endure the smells, but at the thought that his dear and dainty Kate was obliged to dwell among them.

Kate opened the door, a rare vision in that grimy frame. At the sight of Jack's regalia she quailed a little, but quickly recovered herself. Jack would have kissed her if she had given him the least opening, but she did not. She invited him in with an air better than Mrs. Cleaver's. Once the door closed the squalor was forgotten. It was a lady's room, however small and poorly furnished.

"How grand we are!" said Kate chaffingly.

Jack explained where he was going later.

"I'll call Mother," said Kate. "She has been anxious to meet you."

"Wait!" said Jack. "You must introduce me as Mr. Robinson."

Kate frowned. "Must? To Mother? I can't do that."

"I'll explain——" began Jack.

But at that moment the old lady walked in.

She was a dear little old lady, the old-fashioned kind of mother, quite rare in a New York flat. She wore a black silk dress many times turned and white at the seams, and a little cap which was never quite straight, giving her a lovable, rakish expression.

Jack looked appealingly at Kate, who hesitated and gulped. "Mother, this—this is Mr. Robinson," she said.

"How do you do, Mr. Robinson," said Mrs. Storer in a voice like a little girl's. She affected to take no notice of Jack's grandeur though it must surely have been a notable sight in that poor little room. "I have not heard Katherine speak of you. Where did you meet Mr. Robinson, Katherine?"

"Mr. Robinson was—was formerly in our office," said poor Kate.

The little old lady made polite conversation for five minutes, and then having established the proprieties, like a thoroughbred mother, she made a transparent excuse to disappear and was seen no more.

"She's a corker!" said Jack.

Kate beamed on him.

Through the open window came the sounds of a violent, vulgar altercation from the flat below. Kate closed the window with an oblivious air.

"I expect you've had an exciting day," she said. "What did the papers mean by saying that you were fat, and that you had a good-looking secretary to whom you turned for everything?"

"I'm the good-looking one," said Jack, grinning.

"I don't understand."

"I'll explain in a minute, but first——"

"Please!" she said with an admonishing gesture.

"Kitty, I can't help it! I can't play up to you. If you knew how it hurt to find you living in such a place——"

"We don't have to live here," she said with quick pride. "We're saving our money so we can go abroad."

"That's not true. I know how much they pay in the sort of place where you work, and how much it costs to live. I have been through the mill. It takes every cent you earn to keep up this place. And you're always thinking, what would you do if you got sick or were without a job, even for a week. That's what makes that little line between your dear eyes."

Kate laughed delicately. "Mercy, you're quite a mind-reader!"

Jack floundered on. "And me with all this rotten money! Every cent I spend shames me, thinking of you here—and your mother."

"You haven't spent any since you met Mother, have you?" she suggested maliciously.

"Don't tease me! I'm in earnest. Why will you be so silly?"

"Are you proposing that I accept a gift of some of your new riches?"

"I'm proposing that you accept me."

"I would never marry a man that pitied me."

"Oh, Kate!" he said, graveled and reproachful. "How silly!"

Then he got his wind again. "That's only putting me off. What's pity got to do with it or anything? I just want you!"

"Why didn't you ask me when you were poor?" she murmured.

"How could I? I could scarcely keep myself."

"Then I am just a sort of luxury."

"Oh, Kitty! How unjust! You take a delight in putting me in the wrong!"

"It's no use," she said with a firm shake of the head. "I haven't changed since yesterday. If you insist on bringing this up every day, it will only have the effect of spoiling my naturally amiable temper. Let's change the subject. Tell me all your adventures since yesterday."

He was no match for her. He had to obey.

But if she was cruel in other respects, she made a rare listener. Her eyes sparkled and her soft cheeks glowed with excitement as his tale unfolded. When the devilish workings of the blackmailing scheme were made clear to her, her indignation knew no bounds.

"The wretches! The beasts!" she murmured. "Oh, they must not be allowed to go free. That poor, lonely old man! It is fine of you to pledge yourself to run them down. It's a crusade in a way, isn't it—and a dangerous one!" She gave him an extraordinary look through her lashes. "Come to me after you have done your work," she murmured, "and perhaps my answer will be different!"

"Oh, Kate!" he said, reaching for her hand.

She neatly evaded him. "Afterwards, I said. Now tell me what you mean to do."

He told her.

"I wish I could help!" she said involuntarily.

Jack had a dazzling inspiration. It must have been his good fairy that sent him that lovely idea all complete and ready to work. "Why, you can help!" he cried.

"How?"

He made out, of course, that the idea had been in his head all the time. "Listen. As Jack Norman's secretary I'm bound to become a pretty well-known figure around town, and it stands to reason I can't do much sleuthing in that character. I've get to have a disguise. I've got to lead a double life. I'll work while Bobo sleeps."

"Yes, but what has that got to do with me?"

"Listen, I'm coming to that. I've told you about our suite at the Madagascar, and Silas Gyde's two little rooms, and the secret way into the house next door. Now, you see, I'll go to bed in the hotel as Jack Norman's secretary, and in the morning I'll come out of the house next door prepared for work in another character."

"But what am I to do?"

"That house belongs to me, you know, though the deed has never been transferred. You must appear to rent it, furnish it and open it as a first-class boarding-house—no, furnished apartments would be easier for you."

"But"——

"Wait a minute. Then I can rent the second floor rear from you in my new character. I can pass back and forth through the vault as I like, and no one can possibly trace the connection between Jack Norman's secretary and the sober little business man who lives in your house. See?"

"Oh, I couldn't!"

"Why?"

"Mother wouldn't like it. And I—I'm not fitted for that sort of thing."

"You could make a bluff at it. You said you wanted to help."

"But would it be helping? I think you're just trying to make an excuse to get us out of this place."

"Nonsense! I had it in mind before I ever came to-night. It's absolutely necessary to the success of my plans!"

"You're just trying to get around me."

"I'm not! How could I trust anybody else with the secret of that vault?"

Jack had struck the right line at last. She could not resist this subtle form of flattery, and in the end she gave in. "But I warn you I'll make that house pay," she said.

"Oh, go as far as you like."

They discussed their arrangements in detail. Once she had consented, Kate entered into it with a will. In the midst of their talk a clock struck one.

"Half-past nine!" said Jack, starting up. "I clean forgot Bobo downstairs!"

"Why didn't you bring him up?" said Kate. "I'm curious to see him."

"Thanks," said Jack, "but for once I wanted to play first fiddle myself."

At the door he gave her her final instructions. "You will start in to-morrow?"

"Yes," she said promptly. "I know a girl that will be pleased to pieces to substitute for me at the typewriter."

"Oh, you'll never go back there," said Jack.

"We'll see," she said demurely. As a matter of fact her heart was singing at the prospect of release from horrible monotony.

"My lawyer will come here in the morning with the keys and the necessary funds," said Jack.

"Oh, don't have him come here. I'll go to his office."

"Very well, if you'd rather. I'll write down the address. You and I mustn't see each other again, until I come to you to apply for a room. Can you open up in three days?"

"Three days!" she cried, aghast.

"Oh, things are made easy for you, I find, when you have the coin."

"Well, I'll try."

Jack went down the stairs two steps at a time, not at all displeased with himself. Had he not rescued Kate from her squalid surroundings, and made sure of being able to see her as often as he wanted? Let her fight him as she would, she was his partner already. She must come all the way some day soon. It was silly for her to make out she didn't mind poverty. She had given it away, in spite of herself.

The elegant limousine still rested at the curb, the chauffeur fast asleep in the corner of the front seat. The dome light was now out and Jack could not see into the body of the car. He was astonished when he opened the door to find it empty. The chauffeur woke up instinctively.

"Where is Mr. Norman?" demanded Jack, staring at the spot where he ought to have been.

"'Deed I don't know, sir. He was inside, all right, when I dropped off. I heard you tell him to take a snooze, so I thought I——"

"Sure, that's all right," said Jack. "He's big enough to take care of himself."

He looked anxiously up and down the street, but there was no sign of his silk-hatted friend.