Nothing But the Truth

Bob forgot all about heroics. Gee-gee drifted in as if she were greeting an old and very dear friend, instead of a casual acquaintance, upon whom, indeed, she had rather forced herself, on a certain memorable evening. Bob wilted. When he recovered a little, Miss Gerald was gone. Below them the gardener who had caught Bob’s eye now drew a bit nearer. Bob turned on Gee-gee.

CHAPTER XVII – A GOOD DEAL OF GEE-GEE

“See here,” he said rather savagely, “this has got to stop.”

Gee-gee stared. “Bless its little heart, what is it talking about?”

“You know,” said Bob. The fact that he now saw Gwendoline Gerald rejoined afar by the hammer-thrower did not improve his temper.

“Pardon me,” returned Gee-gee, tossing her auburn hair, “if I fail to connect. Mrs. Ralston has been good enough to treat us as her regular guests. And, indeed, why shouldn’t she?” With much dignity. “But if you feel I ain’t good enough to speak to your Lord Highmightiness, except at stage doors and alleys and roof gardens – ” Cuttingly.

“This isn’t a question of social amenities,” said Bob. Gee-gee didn’t know what “amenities” meant and that made her madder. “You’ve come down here to raise a regular hornet’s nest.”

Gee-gee sat down. She was so mad she had to do something. She wanted to slap Bob’s face, but she couldn’t do that. As Mrs. Ralston’s guest she couldn’t give way to her natural and primitive impulses. Her gown, modishly tight all over, strained almost to bursting point; it seemed to express the state of her feelings. A high-heeled shoe, encasing a pink-stockinged foot, agitated itself like a flag in a gale.

“I like that,” she gasped. “And who are you to talk to me like that? Maybe you think this is a rehearsal.”

“For argument’s sake, I’ll own I’m not much account just at present,” said Bob. “Be that as it may, I’m going to try to stop the mischief you are up to, if I can.” He didn’t know how he would stop it; he was talking more to draw Gee-gee out than for any other purpose. Bob’s own testimony, as to certain occurrences on that memorable roof-garden evening, wouldn’t amount to much. The lawyers could impeach it even if they let him (Bob) testify at all in those awful divorce cases that were pending. But they probably wouldn’t let him take the witness-stand if he was a prisoner. Bob didn’t know quite what was the law governing the admissibility of testimony in a case like his.

Gee-gee shifted her mental attitude. She was getting her second breath and caution whispered to her to control herself. This handsome young gentleman had been the most indifferent member of the quartet on that inauspicious occasion on the roof; indeed, he had yawned in the midst of festivities. Bob, in love, cared not for show-girls or ponies. He had even tried to discourage Dan and the others in their zest for innocent enjoyment. Gee-gee now eyed Bob more critically. As a young-man-sure-of-himself, he had impressed her on that other occasion! Instinct had told her to avoid Bob and select Dan. Now that same instinct told her it might be better to temporize with this blunt-speaking young gentleman – to “sound” him.

“You sure have got me floating,” observed Gee-gee in more lady-like accents. “I’m way up in the air. Throw out a few sand-bags and let’s hit the earth.”

“That’s easy,” said Bob. “Do you deny you’re down here to raise Ned?”

“Do I deny it?” remarked Gee-gee with flashing eyes. “Do I? We are down here to fill a little professional engagement. We are down here on account of our histrionic talents.” A sound came from Bob’s throat. Gee-gee professed not to notice it. “We are paid a fee – not a small one – to come down here, to do privately our little turn which was the hit of the piece and the talk of Broadway.”

“Bosh!” said Bob coolly. Gee-gee looked dangerous. Once more the pink-stockinged ankle began to swing agitatedly, and again reckless Bob narrowly escaped a slap in the face. “Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence got Mrs. Ralston to ask you down here,” he went on. “You weren’t asked on account of your histrionic ability. You were asked because it was the only feasible way to get you beyond other strong, I may even say desperate, and to them, inimical influences. Mrs. Ralston isn’t the only one who is financing your little rural expedition. I guess you know what I mean?”

“Nix!” said Gee-gee. “You’ve got me up in the air again. Turn the little wheel around and let the car come down. This ain’t Sunday, and if I was taking a little Coney-Island treat, I wouldn’t choose you for my escort.”

“It certainly isn’t Sunday in the sense of a day of rest,” remarked Bob gloomily. By this time the hammer-man and Miss Gerald were beyond his range of vision. But he would not think of them; he must not. He had a duty to perform here; maybe it would do no good, but it was his duty to try. “That publicity racket is all right up to a certain point,” he said, bending his reproachful eyes upon Gee-gee. “But when it comes to smashing reputations, stretching the truth, and injuring others irreparably – all for a little cheap nauseating notoriety – Well” – Bob hit straight from the shoulder – “I tell you it’s rotten. And I, for one, shall do what I can to show up the whole conspiracy. That’s what it is. It would be different if you were going to tell what was so, but you aren’t. It isn’t in the cards.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gee-gee’s tight dress nearly exploded now. The blood had receded from her face and left it a mottled cream while her greenish eyes glowed like opals. Her expression was animalistic. It seemed to say she would like to crush something beneath those high heels and grind them into it.

“Yes, you do,” said Bob. “And it will be a frame-up for poor old Dan and Clarence, too!” Dickie’s description of what was going to happen recurred to him poignantly. “I tell you it’s a wicked cruel thing to do. I repeat, it’s rotten.”

If he thought he could overwhelm Gee-gee by a display of superior masculine strength and moral force, he was mistaken. Gee-gee wasn’t that kind of a girl. She had some force herself, though whether of the moral kind is another matter.

“‘Wicked!’ ‘Rotten!’ ‘Cheap!’” she repeated slowly, but breathing hard. “Listen to the infant! ‘Rotten!’” She lingered on the word as if it had a familiar sound. “Well, what is life, anyhow?” she flung out suddenly at the six-foot “infant.” “Maybe you think this theater business is like going to Sunday-school – that all we have to do is to hold goody-goody hands and sing those salvation songs! Salvation! Gee!” And Gee-gee folded her arms. She seemed to meditate. “You know what kind of salvation a girl gets down on old Broadway?” she scoffed. “Aren’t the men nice and kind? Don’t they take you by the hand and say: ‘Come on, little girl, I’ll give you a helping hand.’ Oh, yes, they give you a helping hand. But it isn’t ‘up.’ It’s all ‘down.’ And every one wants to see how deep they can make it. Say, Infant, I was born in one of those avenues with letters. People like these” – looking toward the house – “don’t know nothing about that kind of an avenue. It ought to be called a rotten alley. That’s where I learned what ‘rotten’ meant. Nice young gentlemen like you who toddled about with nursie in the park can’t tell me.”

Bob tried not to look small; he endeavored to maintain his dignity. He was almost sorry he had got Gee-gee started. The conversation was leading into unexpected channels. “Why, I toddled about in rottenness,” went on Gee-gee. “Gutters were my playground.” Dreamily. She seemed to be forgetting her resentment in these childhood recollections. “Sometimes I slept in cellar doorways, with the rotten cabbages all around. But they and all the rest of the spoiled things seemed to agree with me. I’ve thrived on rottenness, Infant!” Bob winced. “It’s all that some girls get. Men!” And Gee-gee laughed. Here was a topic she could dilate on. Again the opal eyes gleamed tigerishly. “I’ve got a lot of cause to love ’em. Oh, ain’t they particular about their reputations!” Gee-gee’s chuckle was fiendish. “Poor, precious little dears! Be careful and don’t get a teeny speck of smudge on their snowy white wings! My! look out! don’t splash ’em! Or, if you do, rub it off quick so the people in church won’t see it. But when it comes to us” – Gee-gee showed her teeth. “I learned when I was in the gutter that I had to fight. Sometimes I had to fight with dogs for a crust. Sometimes with boys who were worse still. Later, with men who were worst of all. And,” said Gee-gee, again tossing her auburn mane, “I’m still fighting, Infant!”

“Which means,” said Bob slowly, overlooking these repeated insults to his dignity, “you aren’t here just to exhibit those histrionic talents you talked about?”

Gee-gee laughed. She was feeling better-natured now that she had relieved herself by speaking of some of those “wrongs” she and her sex had undoubtedly to endure. There were times when Gee-gee just had to moralize; it was born in her to do so. And she liked particularly to grill the men, and after the grilling – usually to the receptive and sympathetic Gid-up – she particularly liked, also, to go out and angle for one. And after he had taken the hook – the deeper the better – Gee-gee dearly loved the piscatorial sport that came later, of watching the rushes, the wild turnings, the frenzied leaps.

She even began to eye the infant now with sleepy green eyes. But no hook for him! He wasn’t hungry. He wouldn’t even smell of a bait. Gee-gee felt this, having quite an instinct in such matters. Perhaps experience, too, had helped make her a good fisherwoman. So she didn’t even bother making any casts for Bob. But she answered him sweetly enough, having now recovered her poise and being more sure of her ground:

“It doesn’t mean anything of the sort. Our act has been praised in a number of the newspapers, I would have you understand.”

“All right,” said Bob, as strenuously as he was capable of speaking. “I only wanted you to know that between you and me it will be – fight!”

This was sheer bluff, but he thought it might deter Gee-gee a little. It might curb just a bit that lurid imagination of hers.

Gee-gee got up now, laughing musically. Also, she showed once more her white teeth. Then she stretched somewhat robust arms.

“Fight with you?” she scoffed. “Why, you can’t fight, Infant! You haven’t grown up yet.”

Bob had the grace to blush and Gee-gee, about to depart, noticed it. He looked fresh and big and nice to her at that moment, so nice, indeed, that suddenly she did throw out a bait – one of her most brilliant smiles, supplemented by a speaking, sleepy glance. But Bob didn’t see the bait. He was like a fish in a pool too deep for her line. Gee-gee shrugged; then she walked away. Snip! That imitation gardener was now among the vines, right underneath where Bob was sitting.

Gee-gee’s little act was better than Bob expected it would be. She sang a French song with no more vulgarity than would mask as piquancy and the men applauded loudly. Gee-gee was a success. Gid-up put hers “over,” too; then together they did a few new dances not ungracefully. Mrs. Dan’s face was rather a study. She was an extremist on the sex question and would take the woman’s side against the man every time. Theoretically, she would invite injured innocence right into camp. She reversed that old humbug saying, “The woman did tempt me;” according to her philosophy, man, being naturally not so good as a woman, was entitled to shoulder the bulk of the blame. But when she looked at Gee-gee she may have had her doubts.

She may even have regretted being instrumental in bringing her here at all. And it is not unlikely that Mrs. Clarence may have entertained a few secret regrets also, and doubts as to the application of a broad-minded big way of looking at certain things pertaining to her own sex, when she beheld her of the saucy turned-up nose and brazen freckle. Certain it is, both Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence looked more serious and thoughtful than jubilant. They didn’t applaud; they just seemed to, bringing their hands together without making a noise. But both ladies were now committed to the inevitable. Gee-gee and Gid-up, displaying their “histrionic talents,” were but calculated to make Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence the more determined to pursue the matter to the bitter end. Among the guests now was a certain legal light. His presence there at this particular time – when the two G’s adorned the festivities – might be a mere coincidence; on the other hand it might signify much. He had certainly spent a long time that afternoon talking to Gee-gee and Gid-up. Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence came in contact with them only by proxy.

Bob was a deeply pained spectator of the wordless drama that was being enacted. He, alone, besides those directly involved, knew the tragedy lurking behind the mocking face of comedy. That gay music sounded to Bob like a fugue. He could well believe what it was costing Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence to attain their purpose. They weren’t enjoying themselves. It was altogether a miserable business, and almost made Bob forget his own tragedy. A little incident, however, brought the latter once more vividly to mind.

It occurred while Gee-gee, in answer to applause at the conclusion of her dance with Gid-up, was singing another of those risque, French cafe chantant songs. Bob sat next to the temperamental little thing who was behaving with exemplary consistency. She had been comporting herself in strictly comrade-fashion ever since their last talk, not once overdoing the little chum act. She hadn’t asked him for a single kiss or to put his arm about her waist in dark corners. Perhaps she was too anxious on his account for sentimental considerations. She couldn’t understand the way things were going – that is, things pertaining to Bob.

“Why don’t they?” once she whispered to Bob.

He knew what she meant – arrest him? He shook his head. “Dallying,” he answered.

“I could just scratch his eyes out,” she murmured with excess of loyalty.

“Whose?”

“That monocle-man. You know what I did this afternoon?”

“No.” Bob, however, surmised it would be something interesting.

“I went up to that monocle-man and told him every word I had said to him the night before wasn’t so.”

“You did?” Staring at her.

“Yes, I did.” Setting her cherry lips firmly. “I told him I was just trying to fool him and that I would never – never – never testify to such rubbish, if called on to do so.”

“But you’ll have to,” said Bob. “You’ve got to tell the truth.”

“I’d tell whoppers by the bushel to help you,” she confided to him unblushingly. “That’s the kind of a friend I am.”

“But I wouldn’t have you. I wouldn’t let you,” he murmured in mild consternation. “Great Scott! they’d have you up for perjury.”

“Oh, no, they wouldn’t. I’d do it so cleverly.”

“But the monocle-man would testify, too.”

“Who do you think a jury would rather believe, me or him?” she demanded confidently. “Especially if I was all dressed up and looked at them, all the time I was testifying.”

“Well,” said Bob, “I don’t believe you could do it, anyhow. Besides, it would be stretching friendship too far. Though you’re a jolly little pal to offer to!” She hunched a dainty little shoulder against his strong arm.

“I’d go through fire and water for you,” breathed the jolly little pal.

“It’s fine of you to say it,” answered Bob fervently. “I haven’t many friends now, you know. But – but it’s impossible, what you propose. It would only get you into trouble. I’d be a big brute to allow that. It would make me out a fine pal, wouldn’t it? Besides, it wouldn’t do any good. Some one else heard me go into your room and knows all about it. Some one else would fortify what the monocle-man would tell. And her testimony and his would overwhelm yours. And I’d never forgive myself for your being made a victim of your own loyalty.”

“Was that some one else Miss Gerald?” asked the jolly little pal quickly.

“Yes,” said Bob. As he spoke he glanced toward Miss Gerald.

Gee-gee had now started to sing and nearly every one’s head was turned toward the vivacious vocalist. Bob saw Miss Gerald’s proud profile. He saw, too, the hammer-thrower, next to her, as usual. On the other side of the hammer-thrower – the side nearer where Gee-gee stood – was the lady who had given Bob the “cold shoulder” a few nights ago at dinner. The hammer-thrower’s eyes were naturally turned toward that cold shoulder now, and, as naturally, his gaze should have been bent over it, toward the vocal center of attraction for the moment.

But his gaze had stopped at the shoulder, or something on it. Bob noted that look. For a fraction of a minute, or second, it revealed a sudden new odd intensity as it rested on a lovely string of pearls ornamenting the cold shoulder. And at the same instant a wave of light seemed to sweep over Bob. For that fraction of a minute he seemed strangely, amazingly, to have been afforded a swift glimpse into a soul.

The whole thing was psychic. Bob couldn’t have told just how he came to know. But he knew. He was sure now who had taken Mrs. Vanderpool’s brooch. Strangely, too, the hammer-thrower, after that fraction of a second’s relaxation of vigilance over his inner secret self, should have turned and looked straight toward Bob. His look was now heavy, normal. Bob’s was burning.

“You!” his eyes said as plainly as if he had called out the word.

The hammer-thrower’s face did not change in the least; nor did his look. He turned his eyes toward the singer with heavy nonchalance and never had his face appeared more honest and trustworthy.

“Oh, you beauty!” murmured Bob admiringly.

“Do you really think she is?” asked the jolly little pal. She thought Bob meant Gee-gee. “Is that the style you like?”

“Thinking of something else,” said Bob.

“Some one, you mean?” with slight reproach.

“Pals aren’t jealous,” he reminded her. “Besides, it was a man.”

“Oh!” she said wonderingly.

“For life is but a game of hide-and-seek,”

sang Gee-gee, in the rather execrable French some one had drilled into her.

“Come and catch me,” was the refrain.

Bob shook his head. He didn’t want to play at that game. But life was a game of hide-and-seek, all right. He permitted himself the luxury of smiling as he once more looked over at the hammer-thrower and applauded Gee-gee. Odd, the idea of the hammer-thrower being that person he (Bob) was supposed to be, had never occurred to the latter! But no one ever would suspect that face! “My face is my fortune, sir,” he might have said. The hammer-thrower caught Bob’s smile.

“‘Come and catch me,’” reiterated Gee-gee.

That might be applicable to the hammer-thrower. Bob, for the moment, felt as happy as a child who has discovered the solution of a puzzle. So that when Miss Gerald deigned casually to glance at him, she was surprised at his new expression. It seemed a long while since Bob had looked happy, but now he looked almost like his old self. Was it the near presence of the temperamental young thing that had wrought this change, Miss Gerald might well have asked herself.

Violet eyes looked now into temperamental dark ones. Gwendoline, too, was smiling – at the song. But it was that cryptic kind of a smile once more. Bob’s smile was a rather large cryptic counterpart of Miss Gerald’s. The temperamental little thing, though, didn’t smile. She seemed reading Miss Gerald’s soul. She was dropping a plumb-line deep down into it.

Then Miss Gerald turned again to the hammer-thrower, who talked to her just as if Bob hadn’t seen anything, or imagined he had. Gee-gee sat down, at the same time condescending to bestow upon Bob a triumphal look. He had dared to scoff at her histrionic talent, had he? Well, she had shown him – and them. Maybe with a little publicity, she would become a star of dazzling magnitude. At that moment, the world looked bright to Gee-gee.

CHAPTER XVIII – A FORMIDABLE ADVERSARY

What a merry mad wag that hammer-thrower really must be at heart! thought Bob. How he was chuckling inside, or laughing in his sleeve most of the time while he went around with that heavy, serious, reliable visage of his! And that ponderous manner? – What lively little imps of mischief or fancy it concealed! That simulated slow tread, too? – Bob surmised he could get around pretty fast on occasions, if he wanted to, or had to. He was dancing very seriously with Miss Gerald now, seeming to take dancing as a kind of a moral lesson. Oh, that “duty talk” to Bob! He would “consider” Bob’s case! – He wanted to ponder over it – he? And how painfully in earnest he had been when he had sprung what his father had said about not giving a fellow a shove when he was down!

Bob disentangled himself as soon as he could from the temperamental little thing and went into the billiard room, where he began to toy with the ivories. If there was one thing he could do, it was play billiards. But he retired to the seclusion of the billiard room now principally for the reason that he expected the hammer-thrower would follow him there. He felt almost sure the other would seek him. So, though Bob proceeded to execute one or two fancy shots with much skill, his thoughts were not on the ivories. He was considering his position in relation to the hammer-thrower. He (Bob) might entertain a profound conviction regarding the latter’s profession, but could he prove anything?

True, he now remembered and could point out that the latter had attended all those functions where losses had occurred. But that wasn’t in itself particularly significant. Other people, also, had attended all the functions in question. Bob couldn’t even actually swear he had seen the other in his room when he had dropped something from Bob’s window to some one lurking below. Bob hadn’t had the chance to recognize him on that occasion. As far as evidence went, the “boot was all on the other leg.” The hammer-thrower was obviously in a position to use Bob to pull chestnuts out of the fire for him.

But why had he not denounced Bob to the entire household, then and there, when he had discovered him before Gee-gee’s door? Perhaps the hammer-thrower didn’t yet know that any one knew there had been substituted one or two imitation articles of jewelry for real ones. If this were so, then from his point of view a denunciation of Bob might lead to an investigation which would reveal the fact that substitutions had occurred and in consequence he would be but curtailing the period of his own future activities in this decidedly fertile field. He hadn’t, of course, refrained through any feeling of charity or commiseration for Bob. He had, moreover, paved the way to use Bob in the future, if need be, by discreetly mentioning the incident to Miss Gerald. Bob might prove serviceable as an emergency man. All this had no doubt been floating through the hammer-thrower’s brain while he had stood there with that puzzled, aggrieved and righteous expression.

A slight sound behind him caused Bob to turn quickly and, as he had expected, he beheld the hammer-thrower. Here was renewed confirmation of that which he had just learned.

“I felt it my duty to inform Miss Gerald of what occurred last night,” began the hammer-thrower without prelude.

“I know that already,” said Bob, continuing his play.

“Ah, then I am wasting time. But having concluded that it was incumbent on me to take that course, I thought it but right to come to you and tell you what I had done. Square thing, you know.”

Bob grinned. “Say it in Latin,” he observed flippantly.

A slight frown gathered on the other’s brow. “I really fail to understand. You placed me in an unpleasant position. It was not easy to speak of such a matter.”

“Then why did you?” said Bob lightly, executing a difficult play.

“You do not seem to realize there are some things we have to do.”

“Duty, eh?” observed Bob with another grin.

“Without wishing to pose as puritanical, or as a prig, I may say you have hit the nail fairly on the head.”

“Oh, you aren’t a prig,” said Bob. “You’re a lu-lu.”

“I don’t know whether you mean to be complimentary or not,” returned the hammer-thrower with unvarying seriousness. “As I believe I have remarked before, you appear totally not to comprehend your own position. I might have awakened the house and what would have been your status then? There have of late been so many mysterious burglaries at large country-houses and in the big city homes of the affluent that a guest, found rambling about in pajamas at unseemly hours, courts, to put it mildly, suspicion. Anyhow, for my own protection, I had to speak to Miss Gerald. You see that, don’t you? We’ll waive the moral side.”