"You don"t lif rount here?" she asked, in counting out the change for his dollar.
"No; just going up the road."
"Well, call again," she said, politely, as he took his parcels and went out.
Having eaten his two sandwiches, he felt better, in the sense of being stronger and more able to face the thing that had to be done. He was not quite out on the marshes, the long, flat road cutting straight across them to the nearest little town. The lights were rarer, but still there were lights, their saffron growing more and more luminous as the colors of the sunset paled out. An occasional motor pa.s.sed him, but never a man on foot.
He could have turned in anywhere, and perhaps for that reason he put off doing so. It would be easier, he argued, to shoot himself after dark. It was not dark as yet-only the long August gloaming. Moreover, the tramping was a relief, soothing his nerves and working off some of his horror. He wished he could go on with it, on and on, into the unknown, where he would be beyond recognition. But that was just where the trouble was. For the fugitive from justice recognition always lay in wait. He had often heard his father say that in the banking business you could get away with a thing for years and years, and yet recognition would spring on you when least expected. As for himself, recognition could meet him in any little town in New Jersey. They would have his picture in the paper by to-morrow-and, besides, what was the use?
The dark was undeniably falling when he noticed on the right a lonely shack with nothing but the marsh all round it. Coming nearly abreast of it, he detected a rough path toward it through the gra.s.s. He had no need of a path, no need of a shack, but, the path and the shack being there, they offered something to make for. Since he was obliged to turn aside, he might as well do it now.
So aside he turned. The path was hardly a path, and had apparently not been used that year. Wading through the dank gra.s.ses which caught him about the feet, he could hear small living things hopping away from his tread, or a marsh bird rise with a frightened whir of wings. Water gushed into his shoes, but that, he declared, wouldn"t matter, as he would so soon be out of the reach of catching cold.
The building proved to be all that fire had left of a shanty knocked together long ago, probably for laborers working on the road. The walls were standing, and it was not quite roofless. There was no door, and the window was no more than a hole, but as he ventured within he found the flooring sound. At least, it bore his weight, and, what was more amazing still, he tripped over a rough bench which the fire had spared and the former occupants had not thought worth the carting away.
It was the very thing. Shooting oneself was something to be performed with ritual. You lay down, stretched yourself out, and did it with a hint of decency.
Teddy groped his way. First he drew the pistol from his hip pocket, laying it carefully on the floor and within reach of his hand. Next he sat down for a minute, but, fearing he would begin to think, lifted his feet to the bench, lowered his back, and straightened himself to his full, flat length. Putting down his hand, he found he could touch the pistol easily, and therefore let it lie. He let it lie only because he had not yet decided where to fire-at his heart or into his temple.
Outside the hut there was a hoa.r.s.e, sleepy croak, then another, and another, and another. The dangers of light being past, the frogs were waking to their evening chant. Teddy had always loved this dreamy, monotonous lullaby, reminiscent of spring twilights and approaching holidays. He was glad now that it would be the last sound to greet his ears on earth. Since he had to go, it would croon to him softly, cradle him gently, letting the night of the soul come down on him consolingly.
He was not frightened; he was only tired-oddly tired, considering where he was. It would be easier to fall asleep than do anything else, listening to the co-ax, co-ax, co-ax, with which the darkness round was filled.
And right at that minute, Flynn, with low chuckles of laughter, was telling Mrs. Flynn of the extraordinary adventure of the afternoon.
"We didn"t have nothin" on the young guy at all till we seen him look over at us scared-like, and he tuck to his heels."
It was a cozy scene-Flynn, in his shirt sleeves and slippers, smoking his pipe in the dining-room of a Harlem apartment, while his wife, a plump, pretty woman, was putting away the spoons and forks in the drawer of the yellow-oak sideboard. The noisy Flynn children being packed off to bed, the father could unbend and become confidential.
"It"s about three weeks now since Jackman put me wise to money leakin"
from Collingham & Law"s, and we couldn"t tell where the hole was. First we"d size up one fella, and then another; but we"d say it couldn"t be him or him. We looked over this young Follett with the rest, but only with the rest, and found but wan thing ag"in" him."
"Didn"t he lose his father a short while back?"
"Yes; and that was what made us think of him. Old Follett was fired from the bank eight or nine months ago, and yet the family had gone on livin"
very much as they always done."
"That"d be to their credit, wouldn"t it?" Mrs. Flynn suggested, kindly.
"It"d be to some one"s credit; and the thing we wanted to know was if it was to Collingham & Law"s. But we hadn"t a thing on him. We found out he"d paid for the old man"s funeral, and the grave, and all that; but whether old Follett had left a little wad or whether the young guy"d found it lyin" around loose, we couldn"t make out at all. And then this afternoon, as Jackman and me was talkin" it over on the other side o"
Broad Street, who should come out but me little lord! Well, wan look give the whole show away. The third degree couldn"t ha" been neater. The very eyes of him when he seen us on the other side o" the street says, "My G.o.d! they"ve got me!" So off he goes-and off we goes-up Broad Street-into Wall Street-across to Na.s.sau Street-up Na.s.sau Street-round the corner into John Street-up to Broadway-over Broadway-and then we lost him. But we"ve done the trick. To-morrow, when he comes to the bank, we"ll have him on the grill. Sooner or later he"d ha" been on the grill, anyhow."
"But suppose he doesn"t come?"
"That"ll be a worse give-away than ever."
She turned from the drawer, asking of the Follett family and learning whatever he had to tell.
"And you say he"s a fine boy of about twenty-one."
"That"d about be his age. Yes, a fine, upstanding lad-and very pop"lar with Jackman he"s always been."
She waited a minute before saying, "Oh, Peter, I wish you"d let him off."
"Ah, now, Tessie," he expostulated, "there you go again! If you had your way, there"d be no law at all."
"Well, I wish there wasn"t."
He laughed with a jolly guffaw.
"If there was no law, and no one to break it, where"d your trip to the beach be this summer, and the new Ford car I"m goin" to get for the boys? Anyhow, even if we do get him with the goods on him, which we"re pretty sure o" doin" now, he"ll be recommended to mercy on account of his youth, and p"raps be let off with two years."
"Yes-and what"ll he be when he comes out?"
Getting up, he pulled her to him, with his arm across her shoulder.
"Ah, now, Tessie, don"t be lookin" so far ahead. That"s you all over."
And he kissed her.
Gladys, that evening, kissed her mother, in the hope of kissing away her foreboding. Lizzie had not been satisfied with Teddy"s story on the telephone.
"I don"t understand why he didn"t ask to speak to me," she kept repeating.
"Oh, momma," Gussie explained to her, "don"t you see? It was a long-distance call. Three minutes is all he was allowed, and of course he didn"t want to pay double. Here"s his chance to make money that we"ve all been praying for since the year one; and you pull a long face over it. Cheer up, momma, _do_! Smile! Smile more! There! That"s better. Ted said himself that you were not to miss him."
So Lizzie did her best to smile, only saying in her heart, "I don"t understand his not speaking to _me_."
CHAPTER XVII
Teddy woke to a brilliant August sunshine, and that calling of marsh birds which is not song. He woke with a start and with terror. He was still on the bench, though turned over on his side, and with the pistol in view. He needed a minute to get his wits together, to piece out the meaning of the blackened walls, the sagging floor, and the sunlight streaming through the rent in the roof. A hole that had once been a door and another that had once been a window let the summer wind play over his hot face, bringing a soft refreshment.
Dragging himself to a sitting posture, his first sensation was one of relief. "I"m alive!" He hadn"t done the thing he had planned last night!
Merciful sleep had nailed him to the bench, keeping him motionless, unconscious. The pistol had lain within reach of his hand, and was there still; it could do duty still, but for the moment he was alive. Had he ever asked G.o.d for help or thanked Him when it came, he would have gone down on his knees and done it now; but the habit was foreign to the Follett family. He could only thank the purposeless Chance, which is the G.o.d most of us know best.
But he was glad. Twelve hours previously he had not supposed it possible ever to be glad again. It _had_ been a nightmare, he reasoned now, or, if not a nightmare, it had been thought out of focus. He hadn"t seen straight and normally. It was as if he had been drunk or mildly insane.
He recalled experiences during naval nights ash.o.r.e, at Brest or Bordeaux or Hampton Roads, when, after a gla.s.s or two of something, his mind had taken on this fevered twist in which all life had gone red.
Bickley had read this from the lines of his profile. "Forehead slightly concave; mouth and chin distinctly convex; tends to act before he thinks." The other traits had been satisfactory, indicating pluck, patience, fidelity, and cheerfulness of outlook.
The cheerfulness of outlook a.s.serted itself now. Since he was alive on a glorious summer morning, the two great a.s.sets of a man, himself and the outside world, were still at his command. Nevertheless, he didn"t blink the facts.