<h3><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XII</h3>
<p class="nind">T<small>OWARD</small> the end of the engagement in Chicago it became expedient that I
undergo a minor operation. Will suggested I enter a private hospital
near at hand, that he might be in daily communication with me. I
preferred, however, to return to New York, and place myself under the
care of our family physician. Our apartment being still occupied, I
decided on one of the smaller hotels, which abound on the cross streets
between Twenty-fourth and Forty-fifth. Will's company was booked for a
week in Cleveland following the Chicago engagement.</p>
<p>I received daily letters from Will telling me how lonely he was without
Boy and me, and every other day he wired me some nice little greeting.
The operation was simple and, as Experience was permitted to bring Boy
to visit me during given hours of the afternoon, the time passed
quickly.<SPAN name="page_211" id="page_211"></SPAN></p>
<p>By the end of the week I was able to leave the hospital and I had
apprised Will of my intention. Consequently I was not surprised to find
a telegram awaiting me at the hotel. Experience said it had probably
been delivered while she was on the way to fetch me. I waited until I
had made myself comfy in a big arm chair which Experience had ready for
me, and while she made a cup of tea over our alcohol lamp I settled back
to enjoy Will's message. It was a long one, I saw at a glance.
Experience turned enquiringly at my ejaculation. The telegram had been
sent from Cincinnati, where Will was now playing, following Cleveland.
It read: "Come at once if you are able to travel. Not ill, but need your
presence. Have wired money to bank. Best train Big Four Limited leaving
at six-thirty p.m. New York Central. Telegraph on departure. Love,
Will."</p>
<p>I read and reread the message. My perturbation grew. What did Will mean
by "need your presence"? He forestalled any alarm about his health by
saying he was not ill, but had he told the truth? Perhaps he had met
with an accident, a terrible disfiguring—surely I was letting my nerves
run away with<SPAN name="page_212" id="page_212"></SPAN> me.... But why did he urge me to come to Cincinnati when
we had planned to meet the following week in St. Louis, his home city,
and where there was to be a kind of reunion of the family relatives? It
was obvious that he expected me, as he had taken the care to look up
trains and had telegraphed the money.</p>
<p>There was something very much the matter.... I glanced at the clock. It
lacked a few minutes of five, and the train left at half after six....
The bank was closed, but I could get a check cashed. Whatever had
happened it was my duty to be with Will. I jumped to my feet, forgetful
of my convalescence. The weakness had vanished. I felt strangely well.
"Experience ... never mind the tea.... We leave for Cincinnati at
once...."</p>
<p>Experience set down the kettle and looked at me with her hand on her
hips.... I made no explanation, but began to don the clothes I had only
a moment since removed. The necessity for immediate action finally
seeped into Experience's brain. "Then I guess I'll have to fly at
packin' up.... Law-zee, if this ain't seein' the country!..."</p>
<p>Will met us at the station. The first glimpse of him through the iron
grill relieved my suspense<SPAN name="page_213" id="page_213"></SPAN> concerning his health. He was not ill, and
appeared to be whole and undamaged. He was solicitous about my
condition. I <i>did</i> look a bit of a wreck. After the excitement of
getting off had subsided and there was nothing to do but listen to the
monotonous clickety-click of the speeding train, I had collapsed. The
reaction was too great. It was not until we were in sight of our
destination that I dragged myself to my feet and steeled myself to meet
whatever emergency confronted me.... Naturally I asked no questions
during the drive to the hotel. The general aspect of Cincinnati was
typical of my state of mind: an unsunned sky and a smoke-filmed
atmosphere.... It occurred to me how fallacious was Milton's conception
of "evil news." ... "For evil news rides post while good news baits." It
has always appeared to me the other way about. Good news flashes on to
its destination gathering impetus as it goes, while harbinger of bad
lags on behind, retarding the very hours by its sable weight.... The
mental rack of suspense, of waiting, while the imagination conjures an
endless chain of dire probabilities.... When, at last, Experience and
Boy were settled in an adjoining room Will closed the<SPAN name="page_214" id="page_214"></SPAN> door and turned
to me. It seemed an interminable time before he spoke. He seemed to be
bracing himself for the effort.</p>
<p>"First I want to thank you for coming without question.... I only hope
you will not suffer a relapse...."</p>
<p>I waved aside the preamble....</p>
<p>"Well," I said....</p>
<p class="ast">* * * *</p>
<p>I think I was stunned. Nothing seemed quite real about the room. Even
Will's voice sounded remote. I had experienced the same sensation coming
out of the ether after my operation. The doctor's assuring "It's all
right, little lady; just open your eyes" reached me from across spanless
space. Then, as now, followed a great wave of nausea, whirling me into a
relentless undertow, leaving me limp and racked with pain....
Mechanically I re-read the clipping Will had thrust into my hand by way
of preparing me for what followed. It was an excerpt from "The Club
Window" and ran as follows: "A certain clique of rough-riders allied
with a North Side country club are laying odds on a high-stepping filly
of their set who for some time past has been riding for a fall. The
inevitable cropper will involve a certain<SPAN name="page_215" id="page_215"></SPAN> actor who for the past month
has been delighting Chicago audiences with his manly pulchritude as well
as his histrionic ability. The lady in the case showed marked preference
for the society of the actor during one of his former visits to the
Windy City. From time to time there has reached the ears of the
seat-warmers in the Club Window gossip of certain little junkets to New
York during the past winter. It may have been purely coincidental that
the actor was playing a season's engagement in the metropolis but—be
that as it may—the advent of the company to our parts was watched with
considerable gusto. Likewise it may have been purely chance that the
husband of the third part was away on a hunting trip. 'The best laid
plans of' and so forth; the unexpected happened when the actor's wife
accompanied him on his visit to us. The affair was for the moment in
abeyance. <i>But</i>—no sooner had the wife returned to New York than the
fire broke out with renewed ardour probably fanned by the previous
adverse winds of cruel fate. When the company left for another city the
fair Chicagoan was missing from her accustomed haunts. Subsequent
investigation affirmed the rumour that the lady was a guest at<SPAN name="page_216" id="page_216"></SPAN> a
leading hotel in Cleveland. Incidentally her suite of rooms was on the
same floor as that of the actor. Let us hope that some busy bee does not
buzz about the head of the mighty hunter and bring him back gunning for
the destroyer of his peace. Verily, verily, the actor hath power to
charm."</p>
<p>"You must realize, girlie, that I wouldn't have worried you with this
nasty business if I hadn't been afraid of letting us both in for
something worse.... What do you think of the damned cat who cooked up a
thing like that? It was pure spite work. You see it was like this: When
I met this female reporter two years ago she was all for me. You
remember the nice things she wrote about me when I played Chicago the
last time? Well, she came on to New York last winter and I took her to
lunch and showed her other little attentions just to keep on the good
side of her. About the same time the other dame blew in, and I felt it
was up to me to discharge some of my social debts to her. Here's where
the elderly spinster reporter got sore. She thought she had a corner on
the market. It's hell to be such a fascinatin' devil!..."</p>
<p>Will winked at me, albeit a little dubiously,<SPAN name="page_217" id="page_217"></SPAN> sensing a probable lack
of appreciation on my part.</p>
<p>"When I came back to Chicago this trip," he continued, "I received a
note from my quondam friend and later she came back to my dressing-room
to see me. She made some pertinent remarks about the other woman, hinted
at some persons being ingrates after all she had done to boom them when
they were 'also rans' and, now that they had got there, threw down their
old friends. I lost my temper a bit and we parted bad friends. The
result was she transferred her booming to ——" (Will named the character
actor of his company) "and proceeded to lay it over me on every possible
occasion.... These damned women are always worse when they get along in
life...."</p>
<p>"What did this 'club' woman expect of you?... What did she want?"</p>
<p>Will looked at me blankly, then batted his eyes....</p>
<p>"Why ... why, I suppose the old hen wanted me to make love to her: she
made a play for me and I threw her down hard."</p>
<p>He took the clipping from my fingers and replaced it in his wallet.<SPAN name="page_218" id="page_218"></SPAN></p>
<p>"Did you know that the—<i>the</i> lady was coming to Cleveland?" I asked.</p>
<p>"Why—not exactly; she said something about it while we were still in
Chicago but I thought she was bluffing. As a matter of fact I thought
she had more sense than to do a thing like that."</p>
<p>"What led you to believe she had better sense?—anything in her past
performances?"</p>
<p>"No—but women are pretty foxy: they generally take care to cover their
trails no matter how reckless they pretend to be. Not many of them want
to lose their homes in spite of their protestations about giving up
everything for 'thou'...."</p>
<p>"Why did you not insist on her returning home at once? Couldn't you have
gone to another hotel?"</p>
<p>"What good would that have done? She would have followed. When she
turned up in Cleveland I handed it to her straight, you may imagine. I
didn't mince matters a little bit."</p>
<p>"Was she afraid to go back home?"</p>
<p>"I don't know; she said she'd left for good and that she'd never live
with her husband<SPAN name="page_219" id="page_219"></SPAN> again. I told her she could do as she pleased about
<i>that</i>, but I didn't propose to become involved. Then she threatened to
commit suicide—throw herself in the lake. I told her to go ahead and
then she had hysterics all over the place. I had a fine tea-party, I can
tell you.... Somebody sent me a marked copy of the Club Window. I knew,
then, it wouldn't be long before her husband would get wise to it and I
didn't know what kind of a game he'd spring on me. I guess it's not the
first time the lady has kicked over the matrimonial traces, according to
reports. Maybe he's looking for just such an opening."</p>
<p>The room was thick with tobacco-smoke. Will was burning up one cigar
after another.</p>
<p>"She made a fine spectacle of herself and of me by showing up at the
railway station looking like a boiled owl. After our scene she capped
the climax by getting a peach of a jag.... By George, I never will hear
the last of it from the members of the company." He pulled down a window
from the top and stopped at the desk, where he took a telegram from his
portfolio—a Christmas present I had made him.<SPAN name="page_220" id="page_220"></SPAN></p>
<p>"Yesterday morning I received this." I read the message:</p>
<div class="blockquot"><p>"Call me long distance Friday noon sharp. Important.</p>
<p class="r">(Signed) DOC."</p>
</div>
<p>"It was decent of the Doc, wasn't it? Well, I got him on long distance
and the first thing he asked me was whether the lady were with me.
'Well, not exactly <i>with</i> me, but I can't shake her,' I shouted back.
'You've got to,' the Doc went on, 'for your wife's sake you mustn't get
landed with the goods.' The Doc is one of these 'from-Missouri'
gentlemen and wouldn't believe I was innocent under oath. Just the same
he's a good fellow. He told me he knew all about my predicament and that
he'd taken time by the forelock and got hold of madame's sister, who was
standing beside him while he talked. She had her grip with her, ready to
start for Cincinnati at once. I told him to send her by the fastest
express. The Doc said that madame's husband had returned to town
unexpectedly—just as I had anticipated—and after a stay of twenty-four
hours had again disappeared. No one at his office or at his home knew
where he had gone. The sister said he had called her up and inquired
where<SPAN name="page_221" id="page_221"></SPAN> his wife had gone and had rung off abruptly. Then the Doc quizzed
the stenographer, who was an old chum of his, and she confided to him
that the husband's secretary had bought a ticket to Cleveland.... 'He's
on the trail,' the Doc warned, 'and there's only one thing for you to do
... send for your wife if she's able to travel.... Make her get to
Cincinnati before he does. Your wife is a level-headed little woman and
if you put it to her straight she'll play up.... Together you can cook
up something to placate the irate husband....' Can't you just hear the
old Doc roar? Well, I thought his advice good and I wired you at once."</p>
<p>... "Has the sister arrived?" ... I found it difficult to make myself
heard. My voice was dry and grated harshly....</p>
<p>"Yes, she's here; they're on the floor below." Will poured a glass of
water and handed it me. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
It was his turn to be silent. He seemed to have talked himself out....</p>
<p>"Which of them is it?... Do I know her?"</p>
<p>"Yes; we had dinner at her house one Sunday night."<SPAN name="page_222" id="page_222"></SPAN></p>
<p>"Blonde?"</p>
<p>"Um—yes...."</p>
<p>"Art's triumph over Nature, I suppose." ... I could not resist the
thrust ... suddenly I sat bolt upright.</p>
<p>"Will ... <i>Will</i>.... Not—Mrs F.—not the woman with the two little
girls ... not the mother of those children...."</p>
<p>He nodded and raised his shoulders with a gesture which was half
deploring, half deprecating.</p>
<p>"O!!!...." I covered my face with my hands ... the picture was <i>too</i>
revolting.... "Children don't cut much ice," the doctor had said. I
stopped up my ears to shut out his voice....</p>
<p>"How did it begin?" I said at last.</p>
<p>"O ... the usual way ... supper—or dinner, I've forgotten which—a
little flirtation, lots of booze, motor-rides, rendez-vous while you
listen to the neglected wife song and dance, more dinners and suppers
and motor-rides ... and the first thing you know the fool woman is in
love with you, or thinks she is, which is worse.... I hope you don't
blame <i>me</i>. I can't help it if women make fools of themselves <SPAN name="page_223" id="page_223"></SPAN>over me."
... Something in Will's tone—a <i>sang froid</i>—almost a
<i>braggadocio</i>—sent the blood to my face with a rush of anger. I leaned
forward in my chair and looked him in the eyes.</p>
<p>"Will ... do you mean to tell me that you never encouraged this woman?"</p>
<p>"How do you mean—encouraged?"</p>
<p>"In God's name don't juggle with your words—don't equivocate! You know
what I mean as well as I do!—to encourage in a hundred intangible ways;
to show that you are flattered by a woman's attention; to let her
believe that <i>you</i> believe you are the only one upon whom she has
bestowed her favours; to let her tell you that you are the first man for
whom she has betrayed her husband, though she has been neglected and
unhappy for years and years; to cram down your throat the intimate
confidences of her married life and to tell you she has never sought
consolation elsewhere; to let her do all these without giving her the
lie when you know in your heart she was lying. That's what I mean!... O,
believe me I am beginning to understand the intricacies of the game ...
and if you have gone the limit ... I don't ask you to confess it ...
fidelity does not hinge upon the sexual act, alone—though<SPAN name="page_224" id="page_224"></SPAN> you men
place that above every other virtue in a woman—but I do ask you for the
sake of your manhood, for your own self-respect, don't, <i>don't</i> play the
part of a cad!"</p>
<p>Will winced as if I had struck him in the face. His face had grown quite
pale and his lips were compressed. When he spoke his voice cut the air
like a fine blade of steel.</p>
<p>"So that's what you think, is it?... I've obviously made a mistake in
sending for you ... but I did so more for your sake than for my own ...
to prepare you and save you from a shock if there was a blow-out.... I
never knew before what a poor opinion you had of me."</p>
<p>"Don't distort my words, Will, if you please...."</p>
<p>He paced back and forth, beating the back of one hand against the palm
of the other.</p>
<p>"I know you're sick and weak.... I'm trying to make every allowance for
your state of nerves. Up to date you've played up like a brick. I've
often watched you and secretly admired the way you handled things,
but—if you're going to spoil it all by developing into a jealous woman
at this stage of the game...." I turned on him quickly.<SPAN name="page_225" id="page_225"></SPAN></p>
<p>"I'm sure you can't say that I've ever annoyed you in that line."</p>
<p>"No, I'll admit, you've been a level-headed woman ... but remember I've
played square with you and I think you'll admit <i>that</i>. I've never had a
serious affair with any woman—and the Lord knows I have it thrown at me
from all sides. The woods are full of Potiphar's wives.... If you had
some men to deal with ... how many of 'em can stand up against that sort
of thing without losing their heads?... why, I've had people tell me we
were a model couple ... and, here, the first time I get into anything
like a serious predicament——"</p>
<p>"Then you admit other predicaments?"</p>
<p>"Why, of course, there's been ... O, hell—what's the use of trying to
argue with a woman! You're like all the rest!—when it comes to a
show-down they're not deuces high!" ... He crossed to the telephone and
called a waiter.</p>
<p>"I've got to order an early dinner; I'll have a fine dose of indigestion
as it is—after all this infernal row.... Of course, if it came to a
show-down and he named me as co-respondent it wouldn't do <i>me</i> any
damage but it would<SPAN name="page_226" id="page_226"></SPAN> upset the pater and the rest of the family all
along the line. You know how they feel about the stage...."</p>
<p>"What about me?" was on the tip of my tongue but I did not voice it or
the thoughts which followed. How should I feel to see a home broken up
and to know that my husband shared in the wrecking?—whether directly or
indirectly—the results were the same. And the woman—and the two little
girls ... what of them?... A knock at the door caused my very heart to
contract. Had the husband arrived to demand Heaven only knew what?...
The waiter entered with a menu. I had completely forgotten that Will had
summoned him. When the waiter had taken the order and gone, Will crossed
and laid his hand on my arm.</p>
<p>"Come now, girlie—we musn't let this fool thing come between you and
me. It isn't worth it! You know I love you ... you're the only woman
I've ever loved ... ever <i>will</i> love...."</p>
<p>O, wise husband! He knew I could no more resist his tenderness than a
flower resists the warm sun.... He let me revel in my first fierce burst
of tears and comforted me mutely;<SPAN name="page_227" id="page_227"></SPAN> then, still holding me in his arms,
he went on talking:</p>
<p>"Sometimes I hate this damned business and feel that I'd like to chuck
it altogether ... but what's a man to do after he's given the best years
of his life to one thing? It takes a long time to get established in any
profession, nowadays ... and I'm getting older every day.... I'm sorry I
was ugly ... <i>my</i> nerves are a bit frazzled, too ... but I'll be all
right, now that you and I understand each other ... come, now ... let's
forget it.... Come in the bath-room and bathe your eyes. I've ordered a
nice little dinner and a bottle of fizz; it'll buck you up. Then, before
I go to the performance, we'll outline some plan of action...."</p>
<p>"What do you want me to do?" I asked, as I came out of the bath-room a
little later.<SPAN name="page_228" id="page_228"></SPAN></p>
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