The Simple Case of Susan

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 245, 13 October 1908, Page 6

The Simple Case of Susan

By JACQUES FTJTREIXE.

xrv. (Being a literal report of a conversation over the telephone between Mr Fulton Stanwood, millionaire, and General Underwood, TJ.S.A.) "Hello!" * -_:.- "Hello! That General UnderwoodY* "Yes." "I'm Mr. Stanwood—Mr. Fulton StanVvood, of Wall Street." — .'. "Well?" ~ : "Who in the is this Lieutenant Bobert E. Lee Faulkner?" "Who in the do you think you are talking to?" "This is General Underwood, isn't it?" 'Yes, not a flunkey, as you evidently imagine!" "WeE, I am Mr. Fulton Stanwood, of Wall Street, and " "I d'on't care if you're Croesus. Don't talk to mc like that. What do you want?' Pause. "I beg your pardon, I am afraid I Was a little abrupt." "Afraid you were abrupt? You know very well you were abrupt. What do you want - ?" Pause. "I would like to inquire, please, as to Lieutenant Faulkner's character and standing?" "He's a gentleman and a soldier, sir. And he wouldn't, have called mc away from a game of bridge to ask idiotic gtrestions." "I mean, what's he ever done? What are his family connections? „What are.his prospects?" "He's dtane more than any other man of his age in the army, and Congress Toted him a medal for personal gallantry; his family connections are a great deal ibetter thaai those of any other man -I know; and he will be Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the United States ' if he lives long enough." Pause. ' ; '•"UnmarriedVl suppose?" "Yes, and consequently happy." "Is he the sort of man to whom you : would give your daughter?" "My daughter! Confound you, I'm a bachelor. But if I had a daughter Fd hand! her to him on a gold platter. Pause. "His relations'"with-yon, Tdare say, are . lather cordial?" "Cordial? He's an impertinent youn<» : shave-tail, sir. He's the only man liv- ■ ing who ever called mc down in the field. ' That all?" "I—think—that's—all" Pause. "Did yon say anything?" " No—l—was—just — thinking—that "Excuse mc. I thought you said Thank you." 5 (Bang.) (Bang.) XV. We will now rhapsodize a few lines about the baize curtains. The dictionary says that baize is "a sort of coarse, woollen stuff." These were not that kind wollen stuff." These were not that kind of baize curtains. These baize curtains, of an unromantk) gray-green, were, by reflected glory, at once a cloth of gold, and hangings of royal purple, and attarseen Jed fine linen. They were the gossamer shield behind which love hid; the tantalizing draperies which Cupid drew against the prying eyes of the world; the roseate lining of a den where hand might meet hand in one clinging, thrilling touch, while the voice of the sordid earth grew vague and faint; the completing wall of a nook of delight whereof the furnishings were two chairs, a wobbly table, sparkling cut-glass and silver, and spotless napery. And, 10, the Lord of the Baize Curtains was the waiter; and even he always said "Ahom!" before he ventured to draw them. The baize curtains hung dtrwn as straight and xmcompromisingly as a pair of oaken_ boards, cutting off a manywindosved little room which grows, fun-gus-like, straight out from the east wall of tne dining-room of the Casino in Central (Park. In the large room, always quiet; there- is,;.nevertheless, the publicity of Sherry's or Delmonico's, but in the nook behind the baize curtains is a haven and a refuge. Only the eyes of the ■waiter came here, and- a discreet can neither-sec nor bear. Tho large room was deserted save for one person —a gentleman in an automobile coat. His leather cap lay on a -chair beside him, and he was gazing reflectively into the depths of an a-mber-colonred iced Squid on the table in front of him. The sun was slowly dropping down off there somewhere behind Central West, and a crimson glow was creeping in the room. The gentleman =was Dan Wilbur. He was mooning over that-scene in the play where John Drew canre-right out and told the girl he loved her. It had seemed so easy, so necessary, so natural, so politely impetuous. And he wondered what Marjerie had Jhought of it. Hk aentinenfcal meditations "were disturbed by a laugh, ja. surpreased- gurgle of merriment, which caused him to turn and stare impriringly- at-the baize curtains,'inscrutable as the face of Fate. He ■was stnl staring fixedly when the laughter came again, this time a little louder, and then a, woman, hidden in the lecess, spoke. "No, no, no!" she declared positively. Thai; wouldn't ever do." A man's voice mumbled something that he didn't catch, and then the woman spoke again. "Why, that's too prosaic. Since it if going to be an elopement, and all our plans are made, let's make it just as romantic as possible. Won't it be just ■too delicious?" - • Mr. Wilbur's eyes were no longer listless—they were startled as he sat starin«r at the curtain. His moodiness passed, and he was suddenly keenly,

alertly alive. The voice! There was never another in the world just like it; it stirred every quiescent faculty into activity, and his hands closed spasmodically. An elopement! Our plans! Tire man mumbled something else. "Think of it!" the woman exclaimed, and she laughed again. "I'd give a. thousand dollars to see his face when he knows it." ."Mr. Wilbur knew that voice now. knew it beyond all possible mistake, and some quick, subtle working in his mind brought hard lines into his face. He was not an eavesdropper, but it never occurred to him for an instant to relax his . attention to the conversation behind the baize curtains. Once he made as if to rise, but he dropped back again; a silent-shod /waiter glanced in at the door. Mr. Wdliwr waved him away and still sat listening. "He can't have the faintest idea of it, of course," said the woman after another little pause. "How long will it take us to get there?" Mr. Wilbur strained his ears vainly to get the answer. It was only a mumble. "Wiat time is it now?" the .woman asked- again. Mr. Wilbur glanced at his watch. It was twenty minutes past six o'clock. "We'd better be going, then," suggested the woman. Mr. Wilbur heard the rustle of sHken skirts and involuntarily picked up a newspaper <to shield himself, then: "You dear, dear, dear! Of course I love" you, silly." Then impetuously, passionately, "I love you more than anything else in the world. You know it, don't you?" And then: "But I'm just so excited about this that —that I just can't hold myself. Yes, just one." And then—and then! Mr. Wilbur's modest ears were shocked by the unmistakable sound of a—a kiss! Yes, it was a kiss! He heard a chair pushed back and a moment later a. woman parted the baize curtains; a man appeared just behind her. A reddened ray of the dying sun illuminated them both for a moment and Mr. Wilbur 5 * teeth closed involuntarily as he dodged behind his paper. The woman "was Susan and the man a black-moustaehed, business-like individual, square and soldierly from the tips of his boote to the top of his .black head, <with a keen, determined face and shrewd, penetrating eyes. It was the man Mr. Wilbur had met going into the apartment house where Susan lived. They passed Mr. Wilbur and went out. XVI So deep was Mr. Wilbur'3 abstraction •when he left the Casino that! , he 3>nly gave the waiter half-a-dollar instead of a dollar, his usual tip. He cranked up thoughtfully, the spark caught, and the huge, high-power machine began churning restlessly. Mr. Wilbnr stood staring at the polished sides blankly for a time, then pulled his leather cap down tight, clambered in, and slid slowly down the incline to the driveway below. He turned north, not for any particular reason, merely because it happened so. Susan! An elopement! It had come to this! That dark-moustached chap— he knew him perfectly! And Susan 7 did kiss him! Every act of hers since his return passed before him in review. It was obvious — pkifully, vulgarly obvious! A jealous husband, the unremitting attentions of another man, tawdry flattery, clandestine meetings, and letters, perhaps the final triumph of a senseless infatuation—now this hideous thing. It always happened so. And yet, it was beyond belief. He himself couldn't have believed it if he had not known the circumstances so well, from Susan's own red lips, and heard—actually heard —'what had happened .behind the baize curtains. Gradually a sense of his own responsibility in the affair began to take possession of him. Perhaps it would have been better had he suddenly discovered himself to them there in the diningroomr He had read somewhere in a book of a woman vrho had been turned back from a fatal mistake by the timely appearance of a friend. As it was he had passed unrecognised—they had seen only the iback of hie newspaper. If he bad made himself known and had allowed just a word to drop, showing that he knew all, it might have altered everything. The more he thought of it in this light the more he .blamed himself, and now—and now he was helpless. He had blunderingly let the opportunity pass. Mr. Wilbur loosened his speed clutch, sighed a little and went slamming along the East Drive. Through the rapidly deepening shadows, somewhere opposite One Hundredth Street. Mr. Wilbur saw the glint of a tail-light ahead and elowed up a little. As he did so the car in front swerved erratically, ran clear ol the road and butted into a tree. There it stopped. He heard a slight feminine scream and some vigorous man-talk, whereupon he stopped Bis car, leaped Out and ran across to t she other car. Just as he reached "it a woman jumped out. It was Susan! And then came an awful moment. Susan recognised him instantly, and opened her mouth helplessly, then she glanced suddenly at her companion, and wouldn't think of a word -to say. Dan Wilbur and her husband —her real husband—face to face at last! Her first mad idea was. ignominious flight, her second tears, her third screams; but finally she decided that the only thing to do was to faint. It would at least give i her the time to get her bearings; and she hoped it wouldn't mess up her skirt. So she fainted. No one had expected it, and she tumbled down in an undignified heap in the middle of the road. "What made you db that?" demanded the dark-moustached man in astonishment. "I imagine she's hurt," said Mr. Wilbur sharply. Together they leaned over Susan, and Susan's husband—Lieutenant Paul Abercrombie Harwell .Epwland—raised the inert body and rested her head against his knee. A hairpin gave her an awful jab in the head, but she couldn't afford even to moan. "Scared, that's all," he exclaimed tersely. "Get mc a capful of water out of the tank." There was no if-you-please or will-you-kindly? in this man's manner of speaking. Mr. Wilbur obeyed somewhat mechanically, albeit hurriedly. There was a certain grim triumph in all this, for had not fate handed Susan over to him, to save her from folly? It was Providence, he was certain of it. After they revived her, then —then! (To be continued daily.)