The Dark Star - Robert W. Chambers (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📗
- Author: Robert W. Chambers
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So Brandes got into his car and took the wheel; and Stull watched them threading a tortuous path through the traffic tangle of Broadway.
They sped past the great hotels, along crowded sidewalks, along the park, and out into an endless stretch of highway where hundreds of other cars were travelling in the same direction.
“Did you have a good time?” he inquired, shifting his cigar and keeping his narrow eyes on the road.
“Yes; it was beautiful—exciting.”
“Some horse, Nick Stoner! Some race, eh?”
“I was so excited—with everybody standing up and shouting. And such beautiful horses—and such pretty women in their wonderful dresses! I—I never knew there were such things.”
He swung the car, sent it rushing past a lumbering limousine, slowed a little, gripped his cigar between his teeth, and watched the road, both hands on the wheel.
Yes, things were coming his way—coming faster and faster all the while. He had waited many years for this—for material fortune—for that chance which every gambler waits to seize when the psychological second ticks out. But he never had expected that the chance was to include a very young girl in a country-made dress and hat.
As they sped westward the freshening wind from distant pine woods whipped their cheeks; north, blue hills and bluer mountains beyond took fairy shape against the sky; and over all spread the tremendous heavens 86 where fleets of white clouds sailed the uncharted wastes, and other fleets glimmered beyond the edges of the world, hull down, on vast horizons.
“I want to make you happy,” said Brandes in his low, even voice. It was, perhaps, the most honest statement he had ever uttered.
Ruhannah remained silent, her eyes riveted on the far horizon.
It was a week later, one hot evening, that he telegraphed to Stull in Saratoga:
“Find me a chauffeur who will be willing to go abroad. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get him here.”
The next morning he called up Stull on the telephone from the drug store in Gayfield:
“Get my wire, Ben?”
“Yes. But I––”
“Wait. Here’s a postscript. I also want Parson Smawley. I want him to get a car and come over to the Gayfield House. Tell him I count on him. And he’s to wear black and a white tie.”
“Yes. But about that chauffeur you want––”
“Don’t argue. Have him here. Have the Parson, also. Tell him to bring a white tie. Understand?”
“Oh, yes, I understand you, Eddie! You don’t want anything of me, do you! Go out and get that combination? Just like that! What’ll I do? Step into the street and whistle?”
“It’s up to you. Get busy.”
“As usual,” retorted Stull in an acrid voice. “All the same. I’m telling you there ain’t a chauffeur you’d have in Saratoga. Who handed you that dope?”
“Try. I need the chauffeur part of the combine, 87 anyway. If he won’t go abroad, I’ll leave him in town. Get a wiggle on, Ben. How’s things?”
“All right. We had War-axe and Lady Johnson. Some killing, eh? That stable is winning all along. We’ve got Adriutha and Queen Esther today. The Ocean Belle skate is scratched. Doc and Cap and me is thick with the Legislature outfit. We’ll trim ’em tonight. How are you feeling, Eddie?”
“Never better. I’ll call you up in the morning. Ding-dong!”
“Wait! Are you really going abroad?” shouted Stull.
But Brandes had already hung up.
He walked leisurely back to Brookhollow through the sunshine. He had never been as happy in all his life.
“Long distance calling you, Mr. Stull. One moment, please.... Here’s your party,” concluded the operator.
Stull, huddled sleepily on his bed, picked up the transmitter from the table beside him with a frightful yawn.
“Who is it?” he inquired sourly.
“It’s me—Ben!”
“Say, Eddie, have a heart, will you! I need the sleep––”
Brandes’ voice was almost jovial:
“Wake up, you poor tout! It’s nearly noon––”
“Well, wasn’t I singing hymns with Doc and Cap till breakfast time? And believe me, we trimmed the Senator’s bunch! They’ve got their transportation back to Albany, and that’s about all––”
“Careful what you say. I’m talking from the Gayfield House. The Parson got here all right. He’s just left. He’ll tell you about things. Listen, Ben, the chauffeur you sent me from Saratoga got here last evening, too. I went out with him and he drives all right. Did you look him up?”
“Now, how could I look him up when you gave me only a day to get him for you?”
“Did he have references?”
“Sure, a wad of them. But I couldn’t verify them.”
“Who is he?”
“I forget his name. You ought to know it by now.” 89
“How did you get him?”
“Left word at the desk. An hour later he came to my room with a couple of bums. I told him about the job. I told him you wanted a chauffeur willing to go abroad. He said he was all that and then some. So I sent him on. Anything you don’t fancy about him?”
“Nothing, I guess. He seems all right. Only I like to know about a man––”
“How can I find out if you don’t give me time?”
“All right, Ben. I guess he’ll do. By the way, I’m starting for town in ten minutes.”
“What’s the idea?”
“Ask the Parson. Have you any other news except that you killed that Albany bunch of grafters?”
“No.... Yes! But it ain’t good news. I was going to call you soon as I waked up––”
“What’s the trouble?”
“There ain’t any trouble—yet. But a certain party has showed up here—a very smooth young man whose business is hunting trouble. Get me?”
After a silence Stull repeated:
“Get me, Eddie?”
“No.”
“Listen. A certain slippery party––”
“Who, damn it? Talk out. I’m in a hurry.”
“Very well, then. Maxy Venem is here!”
The name of his wife’s disbarred attorney sent a chill over Brandes.
“What’s he doing in Saratoga?” he demanded.
“I’m trying to find out. He was to the races yesterday. He seen Doc. Of course Doc hadn’t laid eyes on you for a year. Oh, no, indeed! Heard you was somewhere South, down and out. I don’t guess Maxy was 90 fooled none. What we done here in Saratoga is growing too big to hush up––”
“What we’ve done? Whad’ye mean, we? I told you to work by yourself quietly, Ben, and keep me out of it.”
“That’s what I done. Didn’t I circulate the news that you and me had quit partnership? And even then you wouldn’t take my advice. Oh, no. You must show up here at the track with a young lady––”
“How long has Maxy Venem been in Saratoga?” snapped Brandes.
“He told Doc he just come, but Cap found out he’d been here a week. All I hope is he didn’t see you with the Brookhollow party––”
“Do you think he did?”
“Listen, Eddie. Max is a smooth guy––”
“Find out what he knows! Do you hear?”
“Who? Me? Me try to make Maxy Venem talk? That snake? If he isn’t on to you now, that would be enough to put him wise. Act like you had sense, Eddie. Call that other matter off and slide for town––”
“I can’t, Ben.”
“You got to!”
“I can’t, I tell you.”
“You’re nutty in the head! Don’t you suppose that Max is wise to what I’ve been doing here? And don’t you suppose he knows damn well that you’re back of whatever I do? If you ain’t crazy you’ll call that party off for a while.”
Brandes’ even voice over the telephone sounded a trifle unnatural, almost hoarse:
“I can’t call it off. It’s done.”
“What’s done?”
“What I told you I was going to do.” 91
“That!”
“The Parson married us.”
“Oh!”
“Wait! Parson Smawley married us, in church, assisted by the local dominie. I didn’t count on the dominie. It was her father’s idea. He butted in.”
“Then is it—is it––?”
“That’s what I’m not sure about. You see, the Parson did it, but the dominie stuck around. Whether he got a half nelson on me I don’t know till I ask. Anyway, I expected to clinch things—later—so it doesn’t really matter, unless Max Venem means bad. Does he, do you think?”
“He always does, Eddie.”
“Yes, I know. Well, then, I’ll wait for a cable from you. And if I’ve got to take three months off in Paris, why I’ve got to—that’s all.”
“Good God! What about Stein? What about the theaytre?”
“You’ll handle it for the first three months.... Say, I’ve got to go, now. I think she’s waiting––”
“Who?”
“My—wife.”
“Oh!”
“Yes. The chauffeur took her back to the house in the car to put something in her suitcase that she forgot. I’m waiting for her here at the Gayfield House. We’re on our way to town. Going to motor in. Our trunks have gone by rail.”
After a silence, Stull’s voice sounded again, tense, constrained:
“You better go aboard tonight.”
“That’s right, too.”
“What’s your ship?” 92
“Lusitania.”
“What’ll I tell Stein?”
“Tell him I’ll be back in a month. You look out for my end. I’ll be back in time.”
“Will you cable me?”
“Sure. And if you get any later information about Max today, call me at the Knickerbocker. We’ll dine there and then go aboard.”
“I get you.... Say, Eddie, I’m that worried! If this break of yours don’t kill our luck––”
“Don’t you believe it! I’m going to fight for what I got till someone hands me the count. She’s the first thing I ever wanted. I’ve got her and I guess I can keep her.... And listen: there’s nothing like her in all God’s world!”
“When did you do—it?” demanded Stull, coldly.
“This morning at eleven. I just stepped over here to the garage. I’m talking to you from the bar. She’s back by this time and waiting, I guess. So take care of yourself till I see you.”
“Same to you, Eddie. And be leery of Max. He’s bad. When they disbar a man like that he’s twice as dangerous as he was. His ex-partner, Abe Grittlefeld, is a certain party’s attorney of record. Ask yourself what you’d be up against if that pair of wolves get started after you! You know what Max would do to you if he could. And Minna, too!”
“Don’t worry.”
“I am worrying! And you ought to. You know what you done to Max. Don’t think he ever forgets. He’ll do you if he can, same as Minna will.”
Brandes’ stolid face lost a little of its sanguine colour, where he stood in the telephone box behind the bar of the Gayfield House. 93
Yes, he knew well enough what he had once done to the disbarred lawyer out in Athabasca when he was handling the Unknown and Venem, the disbarred, was busy looking out for the Athabasca Blacksmith, furnishing the corrupt brains for the firm of Venem and Grittlefeld, and paying steady court to the prettiest girl in Athabasca, Ilse Dumont.
And Brandes’ Unknown had almost killed Max Venem’s blacksmith; Brandes had taken all Venem’s money, and then his girl; more than that, he had “made” this girl, in the theatrical sense of the word; and he had gambled on her beauty and her voice and had won out with both.
Then, while still banking her salary to reimburse himself for his trouble with her, he had tired of her sufficiently to prove unfaithful to his marriage vows at every opportunity. And opportunities were many. Venem had never forgiven him; Ilse Dumont could not understand treachery; and Venem’s detectives furnished her with food for thought that presently infuriated her.
And now she was employing Max Venem, once senior partner in the firm of Venem and Grittlefeld, to guide her with his legal advice. She wanted Brandes’ ruin, if that could be accomplished; she wanted her freedom anyway.
Until he had met Rue Carew he had taken measures to fight the statutory charges, hoping to involve Venem and escape alimony. Then he met Ruhannah, and became willing to pay for his freedom. And he was still swamped in the vile bog of charges and countercharges, not yet free from it, not yet on solid ground, when the eternal gambler in him suggested to him
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