When the luncheon hour drew near there came a slight lull in the uproar.
Maxwell stood by his desk with his hands full of telegrams and memoranda, with a fountain pen over his right ear and his hair hanging in disorderly strings over his forehead. His window was open, for the beloved janitress Spring had turned on a little warmth through the waking registers of the earth.
And through the window came a wandering perhaps a lost odour a delicate, sweet odour of lilac that fixed the broker for a moment immovable. For this odour belonged to Miss Leslie; it was her own, and hers only.
The odour brought her vividly, almost tangibly before him. The world of finance dwindled suddenly to a speck. And she was in the next room twenty steps away.
By George, Ill do it now, said Maxwell, half aloud. Ill ask her now. I wonder I didnt do it long ago.
He dashed into the inner office with the haste of a short trying to cover. He charged upon the desk of the stenographer.
She looked up at him with a smile. A soft pink crept over her cheek, and her eyes were kind and frank. Maxwell leaned one elbow on her desk. He still clutched fluttering papers with both hands and the pen was above his ear.
Miss Leslie, he began hurriedly, I have but a moment to spare. I want to say something in that moment. Will you be my wife? I havent had time to make love to you in the ordinary way, but I really do love you. Talk quick, please those fellows are clubbing the stuffing out of Union Pacific.
Oh, what are you talking about? exclaimed the young lady. She rose to her feet and gazed upon him, round-eyed.
Dont you understand? said Maxwell, restively. I want you to marry me. I love you, Miss Leslie. I wanted to tell you, and I snatched a minute when things had slackened up a bit. Theyre calling me for the phone now. Tell em to wait a minute, Pitcher. Wont you, Miss Leslie?
The stenographer acted very queerly. At first she seemed overcome with amazement; then tears flowed from her wondering eyes; and then she smiled sunnily through them, and one of her arms slid tenderly about the brokers neck.
I know now, she said, softly. Its this old business that has driven everything else out of your head for the time. I was frightened at first. Dont you remember, Harvey? We were married last evening at 8 oclock in the Little Church Around the Corner.
After Twenty Years
The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 oclock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well nigh de-peopled the streets.
Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. Now and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but the majority of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.
When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him the man spoke up quickly.
Its all right, officer, he said, reassuringly. Im just waiting for a friend. Its an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesnt it? Well, Ill explain if youd like to make certain its all straight. About that long ago there used to be a restaurant where this store stands Big Joe Bradys restaurant.
Until five years ago, said the policeman. It was torn down then.
The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His scarf-pin was a large diamond, oddly set.
Twenty years ago to-night, said the man, I dined here at Big Joe Bradys with Jimmy Wells, my best chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldnt have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly twenty years from that date and time, no matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be.
It sounds pretty interesting, said the policeman. Rather a long time between meets, though, it seems to me. Havent you heard from your friend since you left?
Well, yes, for a time we corresponded, said the other. But after a year or two we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if hes alive, for he always was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world. Hell never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, and its worth it if my old partner turns up.
The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds.
Three minutes to ten, he announced. It was exactly ten oclock when we parted here at the restaurant door.
Did pretty well out West, didnt you? asked the policeman.
You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he was. Ive had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him.
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he was. Ive had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him.
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
Ill be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp?
I should say not! said the other. Ill give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth hell be here by that time. So long, officer.
Good-night, sir, said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went.
There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited.
About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man.
Is that you, Bob? he asked, doubtfully.
Is that you, Jimmy Wells? cried the man in the door.
Bless my heart! exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the others hands with his own. Its Bob, sure as fate. I was certain Id find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well! twenty years is a long time. The old restaurants gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man?
Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. Youve changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or three inches.
Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty.
Doing well in New York, Jimmy?
Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob; well go around to a place I know of, and have a good long talk about old times.
The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest.
At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they came into this glare each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the others face.
The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.
Youre not Jimmy Wells, he snapped. Twenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change a mans nose from a Roman to a pug.
It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one, said the tall man. Youve been under arrest for ten minutes, Silky Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? Thats sensible. Now, before we go on to the station heres a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the window. Its from Patrolman[194] Wells.
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short.
Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldnt do it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothes man[195] to do the job.
JIMMY.
Lost on Dress Parade
Mr. Towers Chandler was pressing his evening suit in his hall bedroom[196]. One iron was heating on a small gas stove; the other was being pushed vigorously back and forth to make the desirable crease that would be seen later on extending in straight lines from Mr. Chandlers patent leather shoes to the edge of his low-cut vest. So much of the heros toilet may be intrusted to our confidence. The remainder may be guessed by those whom genteel poverty has driven to ignoble expedient. Our next view of him shall be as he descends the steps of his lodging-house immaculately and correctly clothed; calm, assured, handsome in appearance the typical New York young clubman setting out, slightly bored, to inaugurate the pleasures of the evening.
Chandlers honorarium was $18 per week. He was employed in the office of an architect. He was twenty-two years old; he considered architecture to be truly an art; and he honestly believed though he would not have dared to admit it in New York that the Flatiron Building[197] was inferior in design to the great cathedral in Milan[198].