Part 20 (1/2)

CHAPTER XIII

_The Stork and the Cranes_

In spite of elise's declaration that she would see him again, Firmstone dropped her from his mind long before he reached his office. She had been an unexpected though not an unpleasant, incident; but he had regarded her as only an incident, after all. Her beauty and vivacity created an ephemeral interest; yet there were many reasons why it promised to be only ephemeral. The Blue Goose was a gambling, drinking resort, a den of iniquity which Firmstone loathed, a thing which, in spite of all, thrust itself forward to be taken into account. How much worse than a den of thieves and a centre of insurrection it was he had never stated to himself. He, however, would have had no hesitancy in completing the attributes of the place had he been asked. The fact that the aegis of marriage vows spread its protecting mantle over the proprietor, and its shadow over the permanent residents, would never have caused a wavering doubt, or certified to the moral respectability of the contracting parties. Firmstone was not the first to ask if any good thing could come out of Nazareth, or if untarnished purity could dwell in the tents of the Nazarenes. It occasionally happens that a stork is caught among cranes and, even innocent, is compelled to share the fate of its guilty, though accidental, a.s.sociates.

Thus it happened that when elise, for the second time, met Firmstone at the falls he hardly concealed his annoyance. elise was quick to detect the emotion, though innocence prevented her a.s.signing it its true source. There was a questioning pain in the large, clear eyes lifted to Firmstone's.

The look of annoyance on Firmstone's face melted. He spoke even more pleasantly than he felt.

”Well, what I can do for you this time?”

”You can go away from my place and stay away!” elise flashed out.

Firmstone's smile broadened.

”I didn't know I was a trespa.s.ser.”

”Well, you are! I had this place before you came, and I'm likely to have it after you are gone!” The eyes were snapping.

”You play Ca.s.sandra well.” Firmstone was purposely tantalising. He was forgetting the cranes, nor was he displeased that the stork had other weapons than innocence.

elise's manner changed.

”Who is Ca.s.sandra?”

The eager, hungry look of the changing eyes smote Firmstone. The bantering smile disappeared. It occurred to him that elise might be outdoing her prototype.

”She was a very beautiful lady who prophesied disagreeable things that no one believed.”

elise ignored the emphasis which Firmstone unconsciously placed on _beautiful_. She grew thoughtful, endeavouring to grasp his a.n.a.logy.

”I think,” she said, slowly, ”I'm no Ca.s.sandra.” She looked sharply at Firmstone. ”Daddy says you're going; Mo-reeson says you're going, and they put their chips on the right number pretty often.”

Firmstone laughed lightly.

”Oh, well, it isn't for daddy and Morrison to say whether I'm to go or not.”

”Who's this Mr. Hartwell?” elise asked, abruptly.

”He's the man who can say.”

”Then you are up against it!” elise spoke with decision. There was a suggestion of regret in her eyes.

”These things be with the G.o.ds.” Firmstone was half-conscious of a lack of dignity in seeming to be interested in personal matters, not intended for his immediate knowledge. Several times he had decided to end the episode, but the mobile face and speaking eyes, the half-childish innocence and unconscious grace restrained him.

”I don't believe it.” elise looked gravely judicial.

”Why not?”

”Because G.o.d knows what he's about. Mr. Hartwell doesn't; he is only awfully sure he does.”