Part 36 (1/2)
”My advice,” returned Magee, ”is that you befuddle no pompous little village doctor with the complication of this unhappy tale. No, let the story be that Hayden killed himself as the toils closed in on him--the toils of the law that punishes the bribe giver--now and then and occasionally. Mr. Kendrick, you have my deepest sympathy. Is it too much for me to hope”--he glanced across the room to where Myra Thornhill sat beside the professor--”that the best of your life is yet to come--that out of the wreck this man made of it you may yet be happy?”
Kendrick smiled.
”You are very kind,” he said. ”Twice we have met and battled in the snow, and I do not hold it against you that both times you were the victor. Life in a tropic town, Mr. Magee, is not exactly a muscle-building experience. Once I might have given the whole proceeding a different turn. Yes, Miss Thornhill has waited for me--all these years--waited, believing. It is a loyalty of which I can not speak without--you understand. She knows why I went away--why I stayed away.
She is still ready to marry me. I shall go again into the Suburban office and try to lift the road from the muck into which it has fallen.
Yes, it is not too much for me to hope--and for you in your kindness--that a great happiness is still for me.”
”Believe me, I'm glad,” replied Magee with youthful enthusiasm, holding out his hand. ”I'm sorry I spoiled your little game up here, but--”
”I understand,” smiled Kendrick. ”I think none the less of you for what you have done. And who knows? It may turn out to have been the wisest course after all.”
Ah, would it? Mr. Magee walked to the window, pondering on the odd tangle of events that had not yet been completely straightened out.
Certainly her eyes were an honest blue as well as a beautiful--but who was she? Where was she? The great figure of Mrs. Norton stirred restlessly near at hand; the puffed lids of her eyes opened.
”Mr. Magee,” she said, when she had made out his figure by the window, ”you've been a true friend, as I might say, to a couple of mad females who ought to have been at home by their own firesides, and I'm going to ask one more favor of you. Find out when the next train goes to Reuton, and see that I'm at the station an hour or two before it pulls out.”
”I'll do that, Mrs. Norton,” smiled Magee. ”By the way, is Norton the name?”
”Yes,” answered the woman, ”that's my name. Of course, it ain't hers. I can't tell that.”
”No matter,” said Mr. Magee, ”she'll probably change it soon. Can't you tell me something about her--just a tiny bit of information. Just a picture of where she is now, and what she's doing with that small fortune I gave her.”
”Where is she now?” repeated Mrs. Norton. ”She's home and in bed in my second floor front, unless she's gone clear crazy. And that's where I wish I was this minute--in bed--though it's a question in my mind if I'll ever be able to sleep again, what with the uproar and confusion my house is probably in by this time, leaving it in charge of a scatter-brained girl. Norton always used to say if you want a thing done right, do it yourself, and though he didn't always live up to the sentiment, letting me do most things he wanted done right, there was a lot of truth in his words. I certainly must get back to Reuton, just as quick as the railroad will take me.”
”Why did you come?” prodded Mr. Magee. ”Why did you leave your house on this strange mission?”
”The Lord knows,” replied the woman. ”I certainly never intended to, but she begged and pleaded, and the first thing I knew, I was on a train.
She has winning ways, that girl--maybe you've noticed?”
”I have,” a.s.sented Billy Magee.
”I thought so. No, Mr. Magee, I can't tell you nothing about her. I ain't allowed to--even you that has been so kind. She made me promise.
'He'll know soon enough,' she kept saying. But I will tell you, as I told you before, there's no occasion to worry about her--unless you was to think was she held up and murdered with all that money on her, the brave little dear. If you was considering offering yourself for the job of changing her name, Mr. Magee, I say go in and do it. It sure is time she settled down and gave up this--this--gave it all up before something awful happens to her. You won't forget--the very next train, Mr. Magee?”
”The very next,” Magee agreed.
In through the dining-room door stamped Quimby, grave of face, dazed at being roused from sleep, and with him an important little man whose duty it was to investigate at Upper Asquewan Falls such things as had happened that night at Baldpate. Even from his slumber he rose with the air of a judge and the manner of a Sherlock Holmes. For an hour he asked questions, and in the end he prepared to go in a seemingly satisfied state of mind.
Quimby's face was very awed when he came down-stairs after a visit to the room above.
”Poor fellow!” he said to Magee. ”I'm sorry--he was so young.” For such as Quimby carry no feud beyond the gates. He went over and took Kendrick's hand.
”I never had a chance,” he said, ”to thank you for all you tried to do for me and my invention.”
”And it came to nothing in the end?” Kendrick asked.
”Nothing,” Quimby answered. ”I--I had to creep back to Baldpate Mountain finally--broke and discouraged. I have been here ever since. All my blue prints, all my models--they're locked away forever in a chest up in the attic.”
”Not forever, Quimby,” Kendrick replied. ”I always did believe in your invention--I believe in it still. When I get back into the harness--I'm sure I can do something for you.”