Part 48 (1/2)
”Oh, wait a minute,--do! Who rescued you? Why haven't you----”
”Lumbermen,--camp, miles from any sort of a lemon. Couldn't get into communication. Fiercest winter ever known,--everything cut off from everything else. Came home the minute I could,--and,--oh, thunder! how I want to know things! Tell me heaps, do! And who are you, anyway?”
”Heavens, what a tale! Yes, I'll tell you everything, but what shall I fly at first? And--oh, I can't stand the responsibility of your secret!
I can't! Why are you keeping it secret? On account of your father?”
”Yes, that's the sole reason. How can I come forward,--the son who is supposed dead,--who is supposed to come back as a spook,--the son who has had a book written about him----”
”Oh, what a situation! And your father so wrapped up in the whole business,--so positive in his beliefs----”
”And that rascally medium!”
”And those wicked materializations!”
”And the fool Ouija Board!”
”And that letter from you to Julie--oh, I say!”
”And _I_ say! But, tell me, what can I do? Do you see it as I do? That I must go away again, disappear forever,--or----”
”Or break your father's heart,-- I mean,--oh, I don't know what I mean!
Mr. Peter, I think I'll lose my mind!”
”I've almost lost mine, puzzling over the thing. But I've put the kibosh on that Parlato!”
”Oh, that's why you were there! I got things all wrong, didn't I? And you came to your own home----”
”Only because of a terrible attack of homesickness. You see, I still have my latch key, and if you hadn't seen me, I should have merely had a good look around, and then silently steal away, without, however, stealing anything else!”
Zizi smiled at her accusation of his burglarious intent, and then sat musing.
”I can't grapple with it,” she said, at last. ”It's too big. I shall telegraph for Mr. Wise. He must come back at once and help us.”
”Now, look here, Miss Zizi, I'm not lying down on this job myself. I'm not asking you to carry my burdens or fight my battles. I am very much able to hoe my own row,--only I fear it's going to be a hard one. I'm going to depend on you for help, if I may, but I'll take the helm; Peter Boots leads, he doesn't follow.”
Zizi gazed at him, her eyes moist with emotional admiration. This man, this splendid, fine man,--to efface himself to save his father's reputation,--it was too bad! She couldn't stand it.
”Now, wait,” she began; ”wouldn't your father,--your mother,--rather have you back with them in the flesh,--than to have their pride spared?”
”Answer that yourself,” he returned. ”I admit that if that question were put to them, they would doubtless say yes. But that's not the thing. The point is, they're reconciled to my loss, happy in the experiences they're having,--delusions though they are,--and contented, even exultant, in things as they are. Why disturb that happiness, for my selfish reasons? Why not leave them to their Fools' Paradise,--for that's what it is,--and not take the chance of what might easily be a distressing disillusion?”
”It would indeed be that,” Zizi spoke gravely; ”I know it would. But what will you do?”
”Go 'way off somewhere,--start fresh,--make a new name and fame for myself and forget----”
”Sacrifice your own ident.i.ty to your father's reputation?”
”Exactly that,--and, simply, it is my duty.”
”And Carlotta Harper?”