CHAPTER XXIX

As the Duchess had gazed into Maggie's excited, imploring eyes, it had

been borne in upon her carefully judging and painfully hesitant mind

that there was better than a fifty per cent chance that Larry was right

in his estimate of Maggie; that Maggie's inclination toward criminal

adventure, her supreme self-confidence, all her bravado, were but

the superficial though strong tendencies developed by her unfortunate

environment; that within that cynical, worldly shell there were the

vital and plastic makings of a real woman.

And so the long-troubled Duchess, who to her acquaintances had always

seemed as unemotional as the dust-coated, moth-eaten parrot which stood

in mummified aloofness upon her safe, had made a momentous decision that

had sent through her old veins the thrilling sap of a great crisis, a

great suspense. She had tried to guide destiny. She was now through

with such endeavor. She had no right, because of her love for Larry, to

withhold longer the facts of Maggie's parentage. She was now going to

tell the truth, and let events work out as they would.

But the events--what were they going to be?

For a moment the Duchess had been impelled to tell the truth straight

out to Maggie. But she had caught herself in time. This whole affair was

Larry's affair, and the truth belonged to him to be used as he saw fit.

So when she had told Maggie that she would get word to Larry, it was

this truth which she had had in mind, and only in a very minor way the

news which Maggie had brought.

This was, of course, such a truth as could be safely communicated only

by word of mouth. The Duchess realized that Larry no longer dared come

to her, and that therefore she must manage somehow to get to him. And

get to him without betraying his whereabouts.

There was little chance that the police would search her place or

greatly bother her. To the police mind, now that Larry was aware he was

known to be in New York, the pawnshop would obviously be the last place

in which he would seek refuge or through which he would have dealings.

Nevertheless, the Duchess deemed it wise to lose no moment and to

neglect no possible caution. Therefore, while Barney was still with

Chief Barlow and before the general order regarding Larry had more than

reached the various police stations, the Duchess, in cape, hat, and

veil, was out of her house. A block up the street lived the owner of

two or three taxicabs, concerning whom the Duchess, who was almost

omniscient in her own world, knew much that the said owner ardently

desired should be known no further. A few sentences with this gentleman,

and fifteen minutes later, huddled back in the darkened corner of a

taxicab, she rolled over the Queensboro Bridge out upon Long Island on

her mission of releasing a fact whose effect she could not foresee.

An hour and a half after that Larry was leading her to a bench in

the scented darkness of the Sherwoods' lawn. She had telephoned “Mr.

Brandon” from a drug-store booth in Flushing, and Larry had been waiting

for her near the entrance to Cedar Crest.

“What brought you out here like this, grandmother?” Larry whispered in

amazement as he sat down beside her.

“To tell you that the police are after you,” she whispered back.

“I knew that already.”

“Yes, I knew that you would.”

“But how did you find out?”

“Maggie told me.”

“Maggie!”

“She came down to see me, told me what had just happened at her place,

told me about Barney hurrying away to slip the news to that Gavegan, and

begged me to warn you at once. She was terribly nervous and wrought up.”

“Maggie did that!” he breathed. His heart leaped at her unexpected

concern for him. “Maggie did that!” And then: “There wasn't any need;

she should have known that I would know.”

“It was rather foolish in a way--but Maggie was too excited to use cool

reason.”

His grandmother did not speak for a moment. “Her losing her head and

coming shows that she cares for you, Larry.”

He could make no response. This was indeed the clearest evidence Maggie

had yet given that possibly she might care.

“Maggie may have lost her head in her excitement,” he managed to say;

“but, grandmother, there was no reason for you to lose your head so far

as to come away out here to tell me about the police.”

“I didn't come away out here to tell you about the police,” she replied.

“I came to tell you something else.”

“Yes?”

“You're sure you really care for Maggie?”

“I told you that when I was down to see you this evening.”

Though the Duchess had decided, the desire to protect Larry remained

tenaciously in her and made it hard for her jealous love to take a

risk. “You're sure she might turn out all right--that is, under better

influences?”

“I'm sure, grandmother.” He recalled how a few hours earlier at the

Grantham the demand of Old Jimmie that she remain with him had seemed

the force that had controlled her decision. “There would be no doubt of

it if it were not for Old Jimmie, and the people he's kept her among,

and the ideas he's been feeding her since she was a baby. I don't think

she has any love for her father; but they say blood is mighty thick and

I guess with her it's just the usual instinct of a child to stand with

her father and do what he says. Yes, if she were not held back and held

down by having Old Jimmie for a father, I'm sure she'd be all right.”

The Duchess felt that the moment had now arrived for her to unloose

her secret. But despite her fixed purpose to tell, her words had to be

forced out, and were halting, bald.

“Jimmie Carlisle--is not her father.”

“What's that?” exclaimed Larry.

“Not so loud. I said Jimmie Carlisle is not her father.”

“Grandmother!”

“Her father is Joe Ellison.”

“Grandmother!” He caught her hands. “Why--why--” But for a moment his

utter dumbfoundment paralyzed his speech. “You're--you're sure of that?”

he finally got out.

“Yes.” She went on and told of how her suspicion had been aroused,

of her interview with Joe Ellison which had transmuted suspicion into

certainty, of her theory of the motives which had actuated Jimmie

Carlisle in so perverting the directions of the man who had held Jimmie

as his most trusted friend.

Larry was fairly stunned by this recital of what had been done. And he

was further stunned as he realized the fullness of what now seemed to be

the circumstances.

“God, think of it!” he breathed. “Maggie trying to be a great

adventuress because she was brought up that way, because she thinks her

father wants her to be that--and having never a guess of the truth! And

Joe Ellison believing that his daughter is a nice, simple girl, happily

ignorant of the life he tried to shield her from--and having never

a guess of the truth! What a situation! And if they should ever find

out--”

He broke off, appalled by the power and magnitude of what he vaguely

saw. Presently he said in a numbed, awed voice:

“They should know the truth. But how are they to find out?”

“I'm leaving all that to you, Larry. Maggie and Joe Ellison are your

affair. It's up to you to decide what you think best to do.”

Larry was silent for several moments. “You've known this for some time,

grandmother?”

“For several weeks.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I was afraid it might somehow bring you closer to Maggie, and I didn't

want that,” she answered honestly. “Now I think a little better of

Maggie. And you've proved to me I can trust a great deal more to your

judgment. Yes, I guess that's the chief reason I've come out here to

tell you this: you've proved to me I've got to respect your judgment.

And so whatever you may do--about Maggie or anything else--will be all

right with me.”

She did not wait for a response, but stood up. Her voice which had been

shot through with emotion these last few minutes was now that flat,

mechanical monotone to which the habitants of her little street were

accustomed.

“I must be getting back to the city. Good-night.”

He started to accompany her to her car, but she forbade him, saying that

it would not help matters to have him seen and possibly recognized by

the taxicab driver; and so she went out of the grounds alone. Within

another hour and a half she was set down unobserved in a dim side street

in Brooklyn. Thence she made her way on foot to the Subway and rode

home. If the police had noticed her absence and should question her, she

could refuse to answer, or say that she had been visiting late with a

friend in Brooklyn.

Larry sat long out in the night after his grandmother had left him. What

should he do with this amazing information placed at his disposal? Tell

Joe Ellison? Or tell Maggie? Or tell both? Or himself try to meet Jimmie

Carlisle and pay that traitor to Joe Ellison and that malformer of

Maggie the coin he had earned?

But for hours the situation itself was still too bewildering in its

many phases for Larry to give concentrated thought to what should be

its attempted solution. Not until dawn was beginning to awaken dully, as

with a protracted yawn, out of the shadowy Sound, was he able really to

hold his mind with clearness upon the problem of what use he should

make of these facts of which he had been appointed guardian. He decided

against telling Joe Ellison--at least he would not tell him yet. He

recalled the rumors of Joe Ellison's repressed volcano of a temper; if

Joe Ellison should learn how he had been defrauded, all the man's vital

forces would be instantly transformed into destructive, vengeful rage

that would spare no one and count no cost. The result would doubtless

be tragedy, with no one greatly served, and with Joe very likely back in

prison. If he himself should go out to give Old Jimmie his deserts,

his action would be just good powder wasted--it likewise would serve no

constructive purpose. Larry realized that it is only human nature for a

wronged man to wish for and attempt revenge; but that in the economy of

life revenge has no value, serves no purpose; that it usually only makes

a bad situation worse.

A tremendous wrong had been done here, a wrong which showed a malignant,

cunning, patient mind. But as Larry finally saw the matter, the point

for first consideration was not the valueless satisfaction of making the

guilty man suffer, but was to try to restore to the victims some part of

those precious things of which they had been unconsciously robbed.

And then Larry had what seemed to him an inspiration: his inspiration

being only a sane thought, and what the Duchess, though she had

not pointed the way to him, had thought he would do. Maggie was

the important person in this situation!--Maggie whose life was just

beginning, and whose nature he still believed to be plastic! Not Joe

Ellison or Old Jimmie Carlisle, who had almost lived out their lives and

whose natures were now settled into what they would be until the end.

By playing upon the finer elements in Maggie's character he had all but

succeeded in rousing to dominance that best nature which existed within

her. He would privately tell Maggie the truth, and tell only her and

leave the using of that knowledge to her alone. The shock of that

knowledge, the effect of its revelations upon her, together with the

responsibility of what she should do with this information, might be

just the final forces necessary to make Maggie break away from all that

she had been and swing over to all that he believed she might be.

Yes, that was the thing to do! And he would do it within the next twelve

hours; for Dick had told him that Maggie was coming out again to Cedar

Crest on the afternoon of the day which was now rousing from its sleep.

That is, he would do it if the police or the allies of his one-time

friends did not locate him before Maggie came. But of that he had no

serious fear; he knew he had made a clean get-away from the Grantham,

and that the shrewd Duchess had left no scent by which those bloodhounds

of the Police Department could trail her.

Larry did not even try to sleep; he knew it would be of no avail. Back

in his own room he sat going over the situation, and his decision. He

tingled with the sense of the tremendous power which had been delivered

into his hands. Yes, tremendous! But what were going to be Maggie's

reactions the moment he told her?--just what would be her course after

she knew the truth?