Part 15 (1/2)

CHAPTER XVII.

TRAVERS GLADWIN IS CONSIDERABLY JARRED.

Taking time out to sense the bruised condition of your heart isn't a whole lot different from taking time out to recover from a jolt received in the prize ring. Having released that impa.s.sioned sentence, ”I hope you are going to like his best friend just a little!” young Mr. Gladwin felt a trifle groggy.

Until he had spoken he hadn't realized just how badly his cardiac equipment was being shot to pieces by the naked G.o.d's ruthless archery.

The fact that the case should have appeared hopeless only fanned the flame of his ardor. He had looked into the depths of two vividly blue eyes and there read his destiny. So he told himself fiercely; whereupon, in the Rooseveltian phrase, he cast his hat into the ring.

He cared no more for obstacles than a runaway horse. His very boredom of the past few years had stored up vast reserves of energy within him, waiting only for that psychological thrill to light the fuse.

As Helen Burton turned from him with the uncomfortable feeling of one who has received a vague danger signal he paused only a moment before he again strode to her side. He was about to speak when she took the lead from him and, looking up at one of the masterpieces on the wall, said:

”Oh, this is his wonderful collection of paintings! He told me all about them.”

It was what the gentlemen pugilists would call a cross-counter impinging upon the supersensitive maxillary muscles. It certainly jarred the owner of that wonderful collection and caused him to turn with an expression of astonishment to Whitney Barnes.

But that young man was intensely occupied in a vain endeavor to draw more than a monosyllable from the shrinking Sadie Burton. He missed the look and went doggedly ahead with his own task. Helen Burton repeated her remark that he had told her all about his paintings.

”Oh, has he?” responded Gladwin, dully.

”Yes, and they are worth a fortune!” cried the girl. ”He simply adores pictures.”

”Yes, doesn't he, though?” a.s.sented the young man in the same vacuous tones.

”And we are going to take the most valuable away with us to-night!”

Here was information to jar Jove on high Olympus. Travers Gladwin came stark awake with a new and vital interest. There was glowing life in his voice as he said:

”So you are going to take the pictures with you on your honeymoon?”

”Yes, indeed, we are.”

”Won't that be nice?” was the best Gladwin could do, for he was trying to think along a dozen different lines at the same time.

”We will be gone for ever so long, you know,” volunteered Helen.

”Are you going to take his collection of miniatures?” the young man asked in unconscious admiration of the colossal nerve of the gentleman who had so nonchalantly appropriated his name.

”Miniatures?” asked Helen, wonderingly.

”Yes, of course,” ran on Gladwin; ”and the china and the family plate--nearly two hundred years old.”

”Why, I don't think he ever mentioned the miniatures, or, or”----

”That is singular,” broke in Gladwin, striving to conceal the sarcasm that crept into his voice. ”Strange he overlooked the china, plate and miniatures. I don't understand it, do you?” and he turned to Barnes, who had caught the last of the dialogue and s.h.i.+fted his immediate mental interest from the shy Sadie.

”No, I really don't, old man,” said Barnes.