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HOLVORTHY HALL


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THE CAMP LIBRARIES
GIVEN THROUGH
THE FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY
WATERTOWN, MASSACHUSETTS
Gift of The People of the United States
Through the Victory Book Campaign
(A. L. A. —A. R. C —U. S. 0.)
To the Armed Forces and Merchant Marine


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I



Ballin's Cousin


. HAT HE LEAST
EXPECTED
HOLWORTIiY HALL
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n**Ai*xt cs.u , rent, rt;.
FRiLDF.RIC DORR STEELE
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MKRRiLL COMPANY
PUELicuIEKS


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WHAT HE LEAST
EXPECTED
HOLWORTHY HALL f-
NT KXZT IMITATION; WW 0»
nataui, ojooj rmn, ere.
Illustrated by
FREDERIC DORR STEELE
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS











WHAT HE LEAST
EXPECTED
By
HOLWORTHY HALL f
MY MOT IMITATION; HIHtT W
mataux, ono| mm, etc.
lltustratid by
FREDERIC DORR STEELE
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS


	>0\6
Copyright by Collier's Weekly
VNDER THE TITLE HELP WaNTED
Copyright 1917
The Bobbs-Merrill Company

BROOKLYN, N, V.


TO
John LORENZO HEFFRON





WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED





WHAT HE LEAST
EXPECTED
I
FTER the two young men, motionless, had
stared at each other across the crimson-
shaded table for a certain time, Hollister, who was
the more sensitive, was all at once self-conscious.
Instinctively, at the climax of his narrative, he had
leaned far forward and gestured vigorously and
brought his fist down among the minutiae of the
coffee-service; and as he had done this, he had
caught and held Ballin's eyes with his own; and so
they had stared unflinchingly. Then, in a twinkling,
Hollister was confounded and overwhelmed with a
species of shame—not because he had spoken, but
because he had the necessity to speak. His elo-
quence reacted like a boomerang, and took him un-
awares from behind. He felt abased and mortified,
1


2 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
as one whose intentional dramatic effect has met
with lukewarm interest and cool analysis. A high
spot of color glowed above his cheek-bones; he
withdrew his hand from the table, and fumbled
nervously for his cigarette case; and at this break-
ing of the tension, his friend Ballin relaxed some-
what, and with a heavy exhalation which implied
both solicitude and impotence, reached for the cof-
fee-pot and poured out the last viscous drops.
Hollister, through the mechanics of opening his
0
silk and leather case and striking a match and light-
ing his cigarette, watched his friend sidewise. He
knew that he had presented the facts to Ballin dis-
connectedly and crudely; he cherished the hope that
he had stated them forcibly and persuasively. And
yet, while he fed that hope on the sustenance he got
from Ballin's evident concern—and that was almost
as poor refreshment, in its way, as Ballin's coffee—
he realized that upon Ballin he enjoyed no claim
whatsoever save that of friendliness; and he had
long since learned that it was safer to trust his
friends for that relationship alone, and not to tempt
fortune by adulterating it with commercial transac-
tions. His appeal had been based rather upon prim-
itive logic; and Ballin, stirring his tepid coffee, and
sipping it meditatively, wore the expression of a


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 3
man who has heard that same specious argument
too many times before to be vividly impressed by it.
Hollister, sick at heart at the exigency of the
conversation, and still unwilling—even in his un-
willingness to protract it further—to omit any pre-
sumptive evidence, which might bear weight and
gain consideration, leaned forward again.
"And if you don't believe it," he said, a trifle
breathlessly, "all you've got to do is to ask any one
of fifty men right in this room! I tell you, this is
temporary. It can't last! It's a repetition—infi-
nitely worse, of course—of just what happened to
us in '98. Everybody was scared to death, and
everybody pulled in his horns and played close to his
chest, and then the McKinley bull market was one
of the biggest smashing recoveries the Street ever
saw. It's absolutely sure to come back the same
way, Ned—"
"That's only your guess," doubted Ballin, setting
down his cup. "The Exchange didn't close in '98,—
as I recall it." The afterthought was naturally to
be taken with reservations;—in '98 Ballin had
worn knickerbockers, and planned to join Buffalo
Bill's Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of
the World at the earliest opportunity. "It's only
closed once before, and that was in 73."


4 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"But—why, this must be temporary, Ned!
They've shut down simply to stop wild speculation,
and maybe a panic. It's a matter of a couple of
months—three or four at the most—and probably
less. This country has got to furnish rifles and
artillery and shell and cartridges and metals and
clothing and foodstuffs and Heaven knows what—
and the Exchange will reopen just as soon as the
public sees we're going to profit by the war, and not
lose! Big business is coming back, Ned! Six
months from now it'll be whooping. We're going
to hold the bag for the whole world! But right now
every executive's scared stiff—you ask the fellows
around the club! It's just a hysterical condition.
It'll pass over. But to-day I know ten-thousand-
dollar men willing to take forty a week; and I know
forty-a-week men praying for jobs at twenty! No-
body's pessimistic down-town—not for the future!
To-day's pretty black, I will admit, but—"
Ballin partnered the fingers of one hand against
the fingers of the other, and permitted his forehead
to show a series of minute corrugations.
"I've heard a lot of talk about that sort of thing,
Phil—my private opinion is that it's more or less
bunk. It's nothing but a darned plausible alibi.
This doesn't apply to you, of course, but in general


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 5
a good man can get a good place any day he
wants to."
Hollister was impatient.
"It's lucky for you you're not in my shoes, Ned.
You'd change your mind about that. Besides, I'm
a pretty good customer's man myself—and I can't
get a good place; I can't even get a bad place! The
closest relative I've got in the world is in the biggest
advertising agency in the country, and if he can't
work a pull for me, I don't see how anybody else
can. You talk to some of the other boys—don't
take my word for it! There's more than fifteen
thousand men, well educated and well trained, hunt-
ing for work in New York City. There aren't any
good jobs vacant. And until Wall Street sits up on
its hind legs again, this club is going to feel about as
joyous as an undertaker's front parlor! Look at
the bulletin board—over four hundred members
posted for house-charges. That's abnormal, isn't it?
Who are they? Practically all from bond and
brokerage houses and banks. I simply won't listen
to any debate, Ned—I know what I'm talking about.
And I want to tell you now that the only reason I
don't try to get over and join the Foreign Legion is
because I am broke. I'd love to get in that scrap,
but I'll be hanged if I'll do it simply because I can't


6 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
do anything else. I'd feel too cheap. Let's get back
to the original proposition. If you can conveniently
lend me a thousand dollars—"
Ballin raised his hand in protest.
"Just a second. I don't exactly understand why
you need so much. Hadn't you saved anything?"
"I've spent it," said Hollister. "I've been a
good deal like the fool grasshopper, Ned. I've
spent it, and I want so much because I don't want
to have to come back to you a second time, and
I don't want to have to go to anybody else on
the same errand. I don't want to owe several
different people, and I do want to have a safe
margin. I want to be able to keep a decent bal-
ance in the bank. If I asked you for a hundred—
and that's ninety-eight more than I've got now—I
might be in the same hole later, and I'd either have
to strike you again, or send form letters out to a
mailing list."
"You're assuming that you're not going to
work?" Hollister beckoned to the cigar-boy.
"I'm assuming that I'm not worth so much as a
dollar a day to anybody but a broker—and nine out
of ten brokers have virtually suspended. Anyway,
I'll buy the cigars." He refused to sign the prof-
fered pink slip. "No," he told the boy. "I'm pay-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 7
ing cash. You see," he added to Ballin, "if you take
the trouble to look over that bulletin board, you'll
find I'm posted, too—and my credit's stopped."
"Really? As bad as that?" Ballin was sincerely
distressed.
"You don't fancy I'm a comedian, do you? I'm
not joking about money these days."
Ballin decapitated his cigar, and blew through it
to remove the legendary tobacco dust which pollutes
the tobacco.
"And you want a thousand dollars to carry you
over until your firm starts trading again?"
"That's it exactly."
"If I were in your place, Phil, I wouldn't hang
around looking for a job; I'd start for France this
week! It's the chance of a lifetime! If I could get
away myself—"
"I told you why I won't do that. I'm crazy to do
it—but I'm not going to play hero, and I'm not go-
ing to use this war to cover up! Nobody but a real
partisan or a millionaire has any right to enlist."
Ballin puffed voluminously, bestowed a look of
paternal approval upon the cigar and settled himself
in greater comfort. He was mute for so long a
period that Hollister, to assuage his mental stress,
turned to survey the huge dining-room, and to nod


8 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
pleasantly to confreres here and there among the
softly-lighted tables. During the intermission, he
told himself that, after all, he had got just about
what he expected. In appealing to Ballin he had
constantly borne in mind the most modern of pessi-
mistic beatitudes; which holds that blessed are they
who expect naught, for they shall not be disap-
pointed. Furthermore, in periods of financial de-
pression, the chief characteristic of men with money
is that they keep it. To be sure, he had nourished a
faint confidence in Ballin, who was popularly sup-
posed to be excessively prosperous for a man but
six years out of college, and to have inherited money
in addition; but Ballin, if young enough to be re-
markable for his successes, was apparently old
enough to be wary in his disposition of the fruits.
And it wasn't a business transaction; it was pure
altruism that Hollister had to rely on. Not even in
college had he ever approached his friend to borrow
money from him; and in college that fact had ren-
dered him unique. He had no security to offer, no
definite, tangible prospects to be discounted. He
wasn't, after all, one of Ballin's closest friends. In
his heart he couldn't blame Ballin for hesitating—
that was the worst of it. He couldn't feel right-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 9
eously indignant at Ballin; on the contrary, he was
inclined to admire his caution. It put Ballin in the
light of a conservative, and not a crack-brained phi-
lanthropist. Furthermore, there would be greater
satisfaction in prying a thousand dollars from him
if it came with difficulty.
Ballin smoked abstractedly, and sent a faint smile
across the table. Hollister stiffened.
"Phil!"
"Yes?"
"Honestly, I don't see how I can do it." Hollis-
ter winced.
"It's for you to say, naturally, but—"
"Well, it isn't that I can't do it—I haven't any
right to do it. Ordinarily, it wouldn't seem so much,
but—I've taken on a pretty big load of responsibili-
ties lately, and the war's made some difference in my
business, too—so I'm afraid I'll have to say no.
Now, my advice—"
Hollister motioned to him to stop.
"Ned, for goodness' sake don't hand out any gra-
tuitous advice! I didn't ask you for spiritual uplift
—I asked for a thousand dollars. If you can't see
your way clear to letting me have it, why, we'll let it
go at that, but please don't advise me, Ned! That


10 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
won't help me stall the landlady!" His tone was
bantering, but there was dead earnest behind it; and
Ballin's incipient sermon was never preached.
"Well, then—if I hear of any opening, I'll drop
you a line. You wouldn't be capricious, would
you?"
"Capricious! I wouldn't even be careful!"
"I've been thinking over the field, Phil—I
shouldn't wonder if I can put you in touch with
something in a week or two. Don't count on it—
it's just a thought. You get your mail here, don't
you?"
"Until the House Committee cuts me off."
"Well, I certainly will let you know if I hear of
anything, Phil. And I want you to realize that I'm
just as much embarrassed as you are, and possibly
more—because I've got to turn you down, when it
must look to you like plain stinginess. Honestly, old
man, it's not that. Now if anything smaller would
do—"
"No, thank you—not yet."
"Twenty-five or fifty dollars—"
Hollister wavered, but his pride wouldn't let him
accept a lesser amount than he had asked for—not
yet. It savored too much of charity—and not
enough of faith and hope.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 11
"I—hardly—think—so," he said. "As I told
you, I don't care to owe half a dozen people, and on
that basis I'd have to pass around the hat before
long. But if nothing bobs up inside of a week, don't
be frightened if you find me camping on your front
door-step early some morning, waiting to sandbag
the milkman. Well—forget it!"
He pushed back his chair; Ballin, after a notice-
able delay, did likewise. Together they threaded
their way out to the grill; Ballin glanced toward the
coat-room.
"If you don't mind, I think I'll run along," he
said. "I've got to meet some of our people at the
Vanderbilt. I'm awfully sorry I couldn't help you
out, Phil. But there's always a chance—"
"Just forget it." Hollister displayed an excellent
counterfeit of blitheness. "I'll walk as far as the
Avenue with you, anyway." He also requisitioned
hat and coat and sauntered with his friend to the
desk.
"Taxi!" said Ballin to the doorman.
"One outside now, sir. Sign, please." Hollister
grinned wryly.
"Oh! I'll push along, then, Ned."
"If there's anything under the sun I can do for
you, old man,—outside of this—this loan—be sure


12 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
to call on me. You'll do that, won't you? I really
mean it. If I can swing a deal your way, you can
gamble I'll do it. But—hang it all, Phil, you
couldn't have come to me at a rottener time."
They were on the sidewalk; a chauffeur was hold-
ing open the door of a yellow taxicab.
"It's all right," said Hollister. "No hard feelings.
It's just one more of those things. Glad to have
seen you, Ned. I'll rustle along somehow. Maybe
I'll enlist yet! Well—bear up!"
Ballin was in the taxicab; the wheels revolved
slowly, and faster; gears meshed with the raucous
grating of metal on metal; and Hollister stood for-
lorn on the sidewalk. Behind him a voice sounded
irritably; he turned to perceive a well set-up young
man, unshaven, ragged, shivering, who eyed him
with unbecoming antagonism.
"I said," repeated this able-bodied citizen, exhib-
iting an amazing lack of suavity in his preliminaries,
"could you spare me a dollar?"
Hollister laughed quietly. The circle of life was
so very, very short.
"Why should I?" he demanded.
"Because you've got it, and I ain't."
"Is that any reason? Why don't you find a job?"
"Job? Nobody ain't hirin', they're firin'. / had


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 13
a job—in a paper warehouse. War queered it. I
got laid off last Sat'day."
"So? How long have you been panhandling?"
"Half an hour. You're the first guy I had the
nerve to stick up."
Hollister, buttoning his coat against the Novem-
ber chill, wished that Ballin were listening.
"Isn't a dollar pretty steep? Why don't you be
a bit modest—and begin with a dime?"
"Because I need a dollar, that's the why. / can't
bum around here all night—"
"You may have to. But it seems to me you'd get
a dime from ten people a lot more easily than you'll
get a dollar bill from me."
The man stood squarely on both feet and gave
back a sharp retort.
"The old woman's sick, that's the answer. I gotta
have that dollar quick! I ain't lyin'. I gotta have a
dollar."
Hollister and the well set-up young man regarded
each other soberly.
"Now my Christian advice to you—"
"Christian advice—hell!" The shivering young
man threw back his head, whirled and took a step or
two in the direction of Fifth Avenue.
"Here! Wait! Come back here!" Hollister


14 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
clutched him by the sleeve. "If you're not lying, I
guess you can make better use of this than I can."
He dropped a number of silver coins into the out-
stretched palm.
"Thanks!" said the unshaven young man. "I'm
—much obliged. I had to have that dollar! Thank
you—sir."
Hollister, relieved that the mendicant hadn't in-
voked the Almighty or sniveled his gratitude,
nodded curtly; then, when the shabby young man
had accomplished half the distance to the corner,
striding along at a tremendous pace, Hollister was
suddenly seized with the realization that to-morrow
was inevitably to-morrow. He made a rapid audit
of the contents of his pockets, and having confirmed
his fears, he set out resolutely on the trail of the un-
professional beggar, overtook him at Forty-Second
Street, swung abreast and enjoyed inward amuse-
ment at the young man's exclamation.
"Nothing serious," said Hollister cheerfully. "I
gave you too much, that's all. Mind if I count it?"
"You—you slipped me too much? Well—"
Without alacrity, and yet without sulkiness, he pro-
duced the fistful of silver. "It's your coin. All of
it. I didn't have a jitney."
"Give me back a quarter," said Hollister, retriev-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 15
ing it. "That ought to leave you about one seventy
—that's very kind of you."
"But—but what in—what's the idea?"
Hollister bowed as courteously as he would have
bowed to any one else.
"We men who've lost our jobs have got to hang
together," he informed the thunderstruck young
man. "And it's just about as hard for me to—to
stick up people indoors as it seemed to be for you
outdoors. Only you're a better salesman of hard
luck stories than I am." He held up the quarter sig-
nificantly. "As long as you've confided in me—
that's for breakfast," he added. "I'm—er—much
obliged. Good night—brother!"


v-
II
PROMPTLY at seven the battered tin alarm
clock, which Hollister, fully acquainted with
its harmless eccentricities, had set at a quarter to
nine, and laid tenderly on its left side, leaped into
action; and as usual during the last few weeks, Hol-
lister continued to recline at his ease, after he was
thoroughly awake, and laugh at it. He reflected, as
he stretched himself lazily and made faces at the
faithful sentinel, that he was building up a very
congenial affiliation with the world of paradox; and
he chuckled again, with no perverted humor, at the
best simile he could recall to support his present
mood. In the past he also—who hadn't?—had gone
overjoyed from the waiting-room of a tardy dentist
and forgotten his acute discomfort in the delight of
the stay of execution. And regardless of the gloom
which was gathering over his prospects, he couldn't
deny that it was an affirmative pleasure to linger
there in mutiny against the intermittent alarm. He
even condescended to say, aloud, just what he
thought of that clock, and its malformity, and its in-
16


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 17
grafted perjury, and its source and its eventual des-
tination, where it would melt. Nevertheless, the
dogged tin chronometer had hardly taken another
fresh start, and entered upon its third inning, when
Hollister, tingling with energy, was on his feet, sat-
isfied with this brief demonstration of his independ-
ence, and ready now to waive his right to an addi-
tional nap, and to take up his personal obligations.
He was habitually a whistling bather and a chant-
ing shaver; this morning he whistled in the shower
and caroled to his razor as exultantly as though an
unavoidable holiday hadn't been bestowed upon him
by the governors of the Stock Exchange. He war-
bled lustily, too, as he dressed with extreme care; as
he ran through his entire assortment of shirts—one
of the finest amateur collections in the city—in
search of the one his humor dictated for this partic-
ular occasion, as he twice knotted and unknotted his
striped silk tie in order to obtain the exact metro-
politan effect he desired. When he ran down the
brownstone steps of his boarding house, and took in
the first breaths of the diamond air, his appearance
was that of a thriving young man of trade, and his
demeanor wouldn't have aided his worst enemy in
the diagnosis of the actual state of his exchequer.
He was still effervescent, because he couldn't help


18 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
it, when at the end of his brisk walk he turned into
a dairy restaurant near the Grand Central Terminal,
and mentioned coffee and soft-boiled eggs to a
waitress whose face had long since been hammered
by fortune into a mask of granite indifference. The
last word he said was "please," and he said it with
unction.
As a tribute to his politeness, he got a little less
frost-bite with his napkin; and in consideration of
his contagious spirits, he got a fleeting cracked
smile with his eggs. When he left a nickel on the
table as he moved up to pay the reckoning, he said
jauntily to the waitress: "Bear up—maybe it isn't
true!"
The girl, rooted to the tiles, watched him down
the alley of tables.
"Oh, well," she consoled herself. "It's easy
enough when you've got the cash!"
And Hollister, bankrupt by the wanton extrava-
gance of breakfast, exchanged buoyant, impersonal
greetings with the cashier, who had a bad complex-
ion but a good heart, and strode over to the Harvard
Club to look at the morning papers.
At this hour the vast living-room was wholly de-
serted; Hollister had his choice of locations, and he
took a leather chair by the fireplace, kindled a vet-


.WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 19
eran pipe, scarred by many campaigns of graduate
and undergraduate warfare, and gave himself up to
the digestion of his eggs, and of the news. By and
by, as a precautionary measure, he hunted out the
columns devoted to want advertisements, and
scanned them without anticipation. As he had fore-
seen, the ratio of those who sought employees to
those who sought employers was discouragingly
high; and even the six or eight laconic invitations
to wage-earners applied either to technical experts,
or to non-union longshoremen. Hollister, lifting his
shoulders slightly, was about to toss the paper away,
when his attention was arrested by an island of
eight-point Cheltenham bold, and he found himself
gazing with cumulative interest at the display,
which was so prominent and so striking that it had
almost eluded him. It was set generously, yet digni-
fiedly, in a little sea of white space; it fascinated
Hollister because, for a. marvel, it was an adver-
tisement of good omen to men with brains:
"College graduate, 25-35, wanted for engagement
requiring initiative, diplomacy and tact. Business
training essential; banking or brokerage connection
especially desirable. Knowledge of either French
or German is important; applicant speaking both
languages will have pronounced advantages. Social
status of candidates will also be taken into consid-


20 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
eration. No applicant less than five feet ten inches
in height or weighing less than one hundred and
sixty-five pounds can possibly be engaged; nor one
without strong and attractive personality.
"Duties will include traveling, but probably not to
any country in the war zone. Good salary to start;
increase as deserved.
"Apply by letter, stating all qualifications, to
Lawyer, 361, Sun office."
Hollister let the paper fall into his lap, and re-
filled his pipe thoughtfully. Wasn't he suited by
nature and by training for just this sort of post?
He privately considered himself tactful, but he had
sense enough to allow that every one else indulges
in the same innocuous belief. On the other counts
he was moderately sanguine. And although—be-
cause he was temperamentally a soldier of fortune
—he preferred traveling in the war zone to travel-
ing out of it, still, the advertisement was alluring.
More than that, it read solidly, and respectably, and
pregnantly. Hollister chuckled at the thought of
claiming in cold blood that he owned and operated
an attractive personality, but he contended that a
due degree of egoism must be an integral part of
any formal reply to this explicit manifesto, and that
he wouldn't stand out distinguished for his conceit.
At any rate, his time wasn't so valuable that he


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 21
couldn't squander enough of it to write an apostro-
phe to whoever lurked behind the signature of
"Lawyer." He rose and crossed to the writing-
desk under the smallest musk-ox head, chose a letter-
size sheet in preference to a correspondence card,
and began to align his adjectives.
He had finally completed his monograph, and
after careful proof-reading, was about to sign and
seal it, when from the dining-room there emerged
an animated youth no larger than a university cox-
swain, who looked with favor upon the fireplace and
the padded cushions of Harvard Hall. But per-
ceiving Hollister under the shadow of the musk-ox,
the newcomer became apoplectic in his delight, and
hurried over to hail him.
"Hello, Phil! Cutting coupons?"
"Pete Kirby!" cried Hollister, starting up. "Why,
you old pirate! Where'd you come from?"
The small man smote Hollister on the chest, and
having performed this feat, which was his custom-
ary method of neutralizing his physique, he shook
hands with a terrific attempt to achieve a mighty
grip'
"Paris, mostly. I landed yesterday. Got caught
in the big rush; walked to Calais, swam the Chan-
nel, bought an English battle cruiser, and came over


22 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
in it." His lips curved and his eyes twinkled, but
his tone was ferocious. "Heard so many fairy tales
lately I thought I'd spill a few myself. I hate these
war liars! From now on, nobody beats me! As
a matter of fact—strictly between ourselves—I
hopped a train out of the Gare du Nord, and stood
up in a corner like an umbrella, and then I got on a
dirty steamer and tipped the purser twenty guineas
to give up his cabin. Otherwise I'd have had to
come steerage. And believe me, Phil! There were
plenty of steersmen! Well, how's everything?
Seen Ned lately?"
"I had dinner with him last night," said Hollister,
endorsing "Lawyer, 361, Sun" on the envelope,
and slipping it into his pocket. "Pete, why in thun-
der didn't you stay over there? If I'd been caught
in Paris I'd never have tried to get out! Think
of what you've missed!"
Kirby, perched on the arm of a chair, smiled
through his delicate glasses. He could have stood
under Hollister's laterally outstretched arm without
touching it; he could have stepped on a scale regu-
lated to an exact hundredweight, and never annoyed
the beam; but in spite of his diminutive size, his
total insignificance as a specimen of bone and mus-
cle, he had that aura of absolute poise which could


WHAT PIE LEAST EXPECTED 23
be an indication of only two attributes. Specifically,
Peter Kirby had money. It was apparent in the
texture of his clothes, in the material of his strictly
masculine ornaments, such as his gold cigarette case
and his gold match-box and his gold watch; it was
evident from his carelessness in speaking of money
—not that he was boastful of his wealth, but rather
that he was inured to it. It was immaterial to him.
It was as much a part of him as his mustache—and
of much less consequence.
Hollister, smiling companionably at this beloved
pygmy who had lived next to him in Stoughton,
was disgusted to have to fight down an unpremedi-
tated impulse to borrow some of that money from
him. Kirby, unconscious of his danger, glowed
complacently.
"Oh, I'm not a fighter like you. I'm a peaceful
guy, I am.—You're still plugging in Wall Street?
Oh, I forget—you've all shut down, haven't you?
So much has happened since June.—What are you
doing?"
"Writing letters. I've written more letters in the
last two weeks—"
"Belay!" said Kirby, giving the traffic signal. "I
tell you, I've been more than two months where a
mere superlative sounds like a feeble squeak. Don't


24 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
let me get started, Phil! Letters! Dear man, one
day in Paris I wrote seventeen letters to the Ameri-
can ambassador alone. I wanted to swap a letter
of credit for twenty thousand francs for a meal
ticket. Of course, you're not talking about the
continent, but every time I hear a war story, I make
it look like a sick cat or perish in the attempt. I'm
a changed man. I'm a censor of public ballyhoo.
Nobody can change the subject on me, any more.
I hate these war liars. Now go on."
Hollister laughed, and shook his head.
"You must have had some great experiences
over there. Gosh! I'd like to be in it! Somebody
was telling about it the other night—about trying
to get out of Paris during the first scare. Forty-
eight hours without food—"
"A mere nothing," deprecated the small man, with
a fierce gesture. "At Rheims I was four days and
eight nights without food, drinkj light, heat, air or
any other of these effete modern improvements. I
got so used to it I began to put on weight. And
then at Versailles I couldn't buy a picture post-card
at any price—my God, how I suffered! Nix on the
war talk! Say, where can I find Ned to-day? Any
idea?"
"Why, at his office, I suppose."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 25
"That's a bright thought," acknowledged Kirby.
"A very bright thought. He's got a floor some-
where near the Battery, hasn't he? I thought so.
Say, I can't take you down by any chance, can I?
I've got a new car outside."
Hollister, remembering the letter in his pocket,
welcomed the saving of an hour or two in the de-
livery.
"I was going down to Nassau Street, if that's
not out of your way."
"Come on, then. I've got a new Mercer. Only
driven the little devil once, but I can stand it if you
can."
At the curb was parked a dangerous-looking run-
about, long and low, and brave with glittering plate
and unmarred finish. Kirby crawled under the
wheel, and by that simple act he donned a ludicrous
cloak of competence and reliability. As he slumped
far down in the driver's seat, with his ridiculously
small hands holding the enormous wheel, or stray-
ing down among the levers, his manner was that of
a self-reliant engineer, whose intelligence has noth-
ing whatsoever to do with his avoirdupois. Or—
if you prefer—he appeared like a precocious child
emulating Barney Oldfield.
"Ready?" he queried.


26 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Let go their heads!" said Hollister, gripping his
hat. As the heavy car darted out into the confused
mass of vehicles in front of Sherry's, he ventured
to touch his friend's cuff. "Don't bother to stop
when you get to Park Row," he suggested. "Just
slow down to forty miles an hour, and I'll jump."
Kirby grimaced at him, and swerved into the
Avenue.
"I would if I could, but I can't," he alleged.
"She won't go slower than fifty, except backward
—then I can't throttle her lower than forty-five.
The only way I can hold her down to forty is to shut
off the gas, jam on the emergency and go up a long
hill in deep sand. Say—how long will your errand
take you?"
''Oh, not more than half a minute. I just want
to leave a message."
"Why can't I wait for you, and we'll go down to
see Ned together. Let's have a young reunion.
We haven't been all together for six months.
Sure!"
"Why, there's nothing the matter with that, ex-
cept—"
Kirby avoided a cocker spaniel by the width of
its whiskers, and bowed urbanely to the outraged
owner.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 27
"Missed him!" he remarked genially. "Brings
my average down to sixty per cent. What's your
objection?"
"Why, I'm afraid I can't make it to-day, Pete.
I'm tied up." He was undergoing toward Ballin
that subtle change of attitude which so surely inter-
rupts a previously uncommercial alliance. He
wasn't offended with Ballin; he couldn't censure
him for handling his financial affairs as he liked;
but somehow he demurred to approach Ballin so
soon after his request and Ballin's refusal. He
knew that neither of them could .quite ignore the
proximate cause of last night's dinner, or the up-
shot of it. "No," he reiterated, "I don't see how
I can make it to-day."
"All right. We'll do it later. Where's your land-
ing? Park Row?"
"Park Row."
Kirby drove without further comment until they
had passed Fourteenth Street and straightened out
on Broadway.
"Some car?" he implored.
"Great!" said Hollister. "Every time I see a big
car nowadays I wish I had one over there in France.
Some of the fellows are talking about going to drive
ambulances. Think of the excitement you'd get out


28 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
of it I I feel almost like a slacker because I don't
go. Still—I suppose it's devilishness and not pa-
triotism—for an American, I mean."
"Ura!" said Kirby.
"A 1903 man was telling us about racing through
the lines for a channel packet—"
"I," said Kirby belligerently, "drove eighty-one
miles in eighty-one minutes out of Paris. And I
had eighty-one punctures. Tonneau loaded with
starving children and—and guncotton. We hit a
brick wall this side of Trouville. Not a fragment
of any of us was ever discovered. We were blown
completely to atoms—and I'll keep right on blowing
as long as any one else does. I loathe these war
liars!" He extended his hand over the side as a
warning. "Will this do you?"
"Just right." Cognizant of the admiration of
passers-by, Hollister clambered out. "Oh, by the
way, Pete, do you happen to have anything less than
a century note on you? I'm shy." He accepted
from Kirby a twenty-dollar bill, and thanked him
as casually as he knew Kirby would like. "I'll see
you up at the club soon."
"Right-o," said Kirby over his shoulder.
And the man who had been envied by passers-by
for speeding down-town in a six-thousand-dollar


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 29
imported runabout went through to Nassau Street
with the money he had borrowed, primarily for his
car fare north, snuggling in lonely magnificence in
his bill-book.


lii
HE had gladly seized the opportunity of saving
a few precious hours—the difference be-
tween the speed of Kirby's motor and of the United
States mail. After he had deposited his letter with
the proper clerk, however, he was singularly aware
that his rank as a commissioned officer in the corps
of the unemployed hadn't improved appreciably.
There was still the future to contemplate and to
discount; there was still the urgent necessity of
paying his rent and buying his food. Since he was
already within walking distance of his former busi-
ness quarters, he determined to run in for a mo-
ment, and to hear what the theorists had to say;
accordingly, in the course of a quarter-hour, he
pushed open a familiar door, and went slowly into
a room grown strangely unfamiliar. At the rear of
it a ruled quotation board loomed big and blank—
not even the closing prices of the last day were re-
corded on it. Against the wall a battery of tickers
stood grimly silent. Empty chairs, arranged in even
rows, showed a fine film of dust on leather surfaces;
the floor was swept clean of papers and litter.
30


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 31
From behind the ornate bronze grills of the order
clerks no faces peered out at him. The bookkeeping
department was as depressing in its solitude as the
customers' room. Nevertheless, Hollister could hear
near by the steady hum of men's voices; he went
through a dim closet which figured in the lease as
another room and paused on the threshold of the
cubicle in which the three partners had enjoyed in-
cipient prostration at adjoining desks. One of the
firm was there, and with him the treasurer; and as
Hollister beheld them he knew without exerting
himself to speak that no idle optimism could find
great nourishment here. Yet he did speak, and the
junior partner replied sorrowfully.
"Mr. Hollister, you're not any more keen for it
than we are. We're keeping five branch offices open,
and the cost's almost prohibitive. All our profit for
the last year's wiped out already. We're beginning
to figure what our net loss will be. When the Ex-
change will resume I don't know—nobody knows.
It depends on the war. I don't mean we won't re-
sume active trading until the war's over—but it de-
pends. It may be three weeks or three months or
three years. Personally, I think it'll be about next
April, or May; so you'd better take any job you can
get your grip on—and you'd better hold on tight


32 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
when you get it. It's pretty well agreed that the
general situation's going to be a lot worse before it's
any better. The Committee of Five isn't helping
matters any, and the cash business over at Clearing
isn't either. I'm sorry."
Hollister bowed gravely.
"Oh, well," he said, "we don't have to worry
about getting off for week-end parties, anyhow."
The treasurer showed a faint appreciation of this
creditable endeavor.
"We'll notify you in plenty of time," he promised.
"We'll pass the good word along as soon as we have
it ourselves. But right this minute—ab-so-lutely
nothing doing!"
"Oh, well," said Hollister, receding into the hall-
way; "at least it gives our nerves a rest, doesn't it?"
Out on the Street, which was remarkably free
from wayfarers, he sauntered in uncommon foot-
lessness. Already he had called upon, or telephoned
to, or written to every man of his acquaintance who
might feasibly use his specialized knowledge at a liv-
ing salary; and he had canvassed many corporations
and individuals who couldn't use it gratis. He was
developing a great sympathy with those who some-
times insist—to the vexation of editors and clergy-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 33
men—that work is plentiful at the discretion of the
patron, and not of the aspirant. But because he was
down-town, and because he always liked to see a
batsman run to first base on an outfield fly, he proved
that he recognized only one body of doctrine by
making a missionary call or two before lunch. Aft-
erward he evinced his sincerity and the failure of his
resources by trying the newspaper sanctums; at six
o'clock, when he had received not the faintest en-
couragement, he tramped wearily into the Harvard
Club for dinner.
"Message for you just came in, Mr. Hollister,"
said the doorman, "marked 'rush.' A boy brought
it."
"Thank you." His tone held little elation; but he
proceeded to the letter-boxes and brought out the
contents of the "H" compartment. At the top of the
sheaf was a note superscribed to himself. He tore
open the envelope and read the terse paragraph.
"Please present yourself, at your earliest conve-
nience, at the above address, with reference to your
letter of to-day to Lawyer, 361, care of the Sun.
"Yours very truly,
"Joshua W. Brown."
He read the lines twice; then, actuated by a purely
selfish motive, he shuffled through the remainder of


IV
ON ENTERING the elevator in the Singer
Building, he had congratulated himself that
he was early. He had imagined that he might have
to lag in the corridor until the office boy arrived
yawning with the keys; he had pictured the lawyer's
gratified astonishment at learning from the stenog-
rapher that the young man had beaten her to the
Singer Building by several minutes, and had been
waiting patiently since nine o'clock. So that he was
all the more disgruntled and self-condemnatory
when he saw the neat reception-room already ten-
anted by a group of obvious petitioners for the berth
requiring diplomacy and tact. Frowning, he gave
his name to a harassed clerk, and stood alone by a
window, to review and classify those who had pre-
ceded him.
They were a widely divergent lot; two of them
would never have been accused, at least on Massa-
chusetts Avenue or Chapel Street, of the bachelor-
hood of arts; they looked more like impecunious ac-
tors, sidewalk conversationalists. The other five
35


36 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
weren't so palpably unsuited; indeed, one bulky
blond with a patrician cast was of the mold of am-
bassadors. Hollister estimated that in the pre-
cincts of Manhattan there must be a minimum of
two thousand men who could have answered that
advertisement truthfully and persuasively. He
shrugged his shoulders and tried not to think of his
debts.
At intervals of ten minutes the harassed clerk
rushed out of concealment, indicated one of the
group, and hurried him out of sight. None re-
turned. Hollister reminded himself of the fox and
the lion's den, and divined an exit to the corridor
from the inner room. Slowly the earlier arrivals
departed, until Hollister alone represented the in-
digent but intelligent collegians of the metropolis.
And then the clerk was at hand. He rasped some-
thing incoherent, and Hollister, following him along
a narrow passageway between high barriers of
clouded glass partitions, and thinking of Alice in
pursuit of the rabbit in Wonderland, was impelled
into the august presence of Joshua W. Brown.
It was an impressive apartment, that of Mr.
Brown; it was large and rectangular, with lofty
windows on two sides, and bookshelves towering to
the ceiling on the other two. The floor was cov-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 37
ered with genuine orientals—Kazaks and Bokharas,
and one sunny Baluchistan; the working equipment,
uniform with the book-shelves, was of dark San Do-
mingo mahogany. The great windows were not
only curtained; they were also hung with overdrapes
of rich Burgundy velours. In its entirety, the room
retained the atmosphere of the master's study in a
luxurious house rather than of a professional work-
shop in a skyscraper. It awed Hollister, because it
was so unconventionally homelike.
At a glass-topped desk at the farther end of the
room, an elderly gray-haired man in a gray sack
suit, which suggested the art of protective coloring,
was scrutinizing Hollister as he might have scruti-
nized a Percheron at a public auction. Not the ves-
tige of personal interest illuminated his features; his
blue-gray eyes were steady and direct and uncom-
promising. His voice, when he spoke, was flat and
monotonous; the movement of his forearm, by
which he waved Hollister to a seat hard by, was the
economical action of a machine.
"Mr. Hollister?"
"Yes, Mr. Brown."
The lawyer, without changing his position by so
much as a millimeter, or permitting himself the use
of a superfluous muscle, or disturbing a single one


38 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
of the papers on his desk, took up a letter; and Hol-
lister grinned involuntarily. The operation re-
minded him of the mechanical chess player at the old
Eden Musee, it was so sparing of energy, and yet so
marvelously accurate and efficacious.
"Philip Winthrop Hollister, a graduate of Har-
vard University of the class of 1908, with the degree
of A. B. cum laude." Mr. Brown's tone wasn't in-
terrogative and it wasn't declarative. Hollister
didn't know whether he was listening to the recital
of a fact, or a reasonable doubt of it. He said:
"Exactly."
The lawyer, utilizing the fewest possible sinews
and tendons, turned his head. His eyes bothered
Hollister; they were uncannily penetrating, and they
conjured up visual surgery.
"Reply concisely, please, Mr. Hollister—regard-
less of the fact that you may have covered these
same points in your application. What is your age?"
"Twenty-eight," said Hollister.
"Your height?"
"Five eleven and a half."
"Your weight?"
"A hundred and sixty-seven."
"Net?"
"I beg your pardon? Oh—yes, certainly—net."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 39
"Did you take part in any branch of organized
athletics at college?"
"Yes, I played football."
The lawyer, part of whose machinery rested on
the desk, annotated Hollister's letter by the exercise
of the fingers only. Then his eyes were decompos-
ing Hollister again, and Hollister was resisting a
tendency to squirm.
"With what success?"
"Why, I was a substitute. I never made the
University team—that is, as a regular. I played in
some of the minor games."
"Under what system was your general physical
condition determined?"
"I don't—oh, Doctor Sargent's system."
"What was the highest total of points you ever
scored under that system?"
"I don't remember—eleven hundred and some."
"Can you state what comparative rank that gave
you in the university strength tests?"
"It was in the first twenty, I think."
The lawyer continued to focus on Hollister's eyes;
but it was several seconds before the next question'
came.
"You are at present at liberty?"
"Yes, Mr. Brown."


40 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Why?"
The bruskness of this demand took Hollister by
surprise. He stuttered.
"B-because when the Exchange closed my firm
dismissed all but three or four men—and those
wefe in the counting-room. None of the outside
men stayed."
Mr. Brown persevered in his deadly-calm inquisi-
tion.
"Do you, or do you not, admit that your failure of
employment is traceable either to your lack of dili-
gence in searching for a situation, or to your lack
of ability?"
"I don't admit it—either one," said Hollister em-
phatically. "I've got the best kind of recommenda-
tions, and I've nearly broken by neck trying to find
something! And my old place'll be open for me as
soon as—"
"How many years did you occupy your last posi-
tion?"
"Six. I began the week after I graduated. It's
the only one I ever had."
"You have had no commercial training except in
a brokerage office?"
"None."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 41
"Of what New York clubs are you a member?"
"Only the Harvard Club; that is, unless you in-
clude—"
The lawyer threw the least intimation of displeas-
ure into his voice.
"Of what New York clubs are you a member?
Reply categorically."
"Harvard, Somerset and Stuyvesant."
"Do you speak French fluently?"
"I do."
Mr. Brown was capable of outstaring the Sphinx,
and making it cringe.
"State in French the extent of your travels in and
out of the United States, and your willingness or
unwillingness to accept a commission which would
include traveling."
Hollister spoke zealously, but got no commenda-
tion.
"Do you speak German fluently?"
"Yes, Mr. Brown."
"State in German any further facts bearing upon
your social life. Dwell on the characteristics of your
immediate friends, and give three references. It is
imperative that these references be men of promi-
nence, or of association with men of prominence."


42 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
Again Hollister spoke at length, naming as tenta-
tive sponsors Ballin and Kirby, and the junior part-
ner of the brokerage firm.
"What salary were you receiving when your em-
ployment ceased?"
"Four thousand."
The lawyer regarded Hollister indefatigably. The
unbending rigidness of the man, his dull intonation,
his optical resemblance to both the eagle and the
beagle, aroused in Hollister's breast a violent wish
to poke him sharply in the ribs, and watch the ex-
plosion.
"Can you be here punctually at four o'clock this
afternoon?"
"I can."
"Please keep the appointment." Mr. Brown
never varied so much as an inflection. "Thank you
for your frankness. Take the door to your left.
Good morning."
Hollister went out limply; and from the moment
he quitted the lawyer's chambers at ten o'clock un-
til he revisited them at four, his wits were occupied
chiefly with the dialogue of which he had contrib-
uted the greater part. He was indelibly impressed
by the attorney. The very style of the examination
impressed him; he thought to detect behind all that


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 43
exhaustive inquiry the outline of some momentous
enterprise. The scrupulous care shown by the legal
catechist could mean nothing less. His research
must have its motive in the gravamen of an immense
undertaking. And surely none but a captain of in-
dustry, or a prince of merchants, would ever have
selected a smooth-running, soulless dynamo for his
counsel. Joshua W. Brown wasn't a man to attract
petty clients. He wasn't a man of picayune affairs.
His library alone, thought Hollister, was an indica-
tion of his essential merit as a practitioner—it was
colossal. And Joshua W. Brown's reputation, as
Hollister learned and verified without the slightest
difficulty, was also colossal. He was said to be the
highest paid, the least known, the worst mannered
and the most skilled counselor in the Southern Dis-
trict. And his integrity—like the rest of him—was
colossal, too. All things considered, there was suffi-
cient justification for Hollister to be five minutes
ahead of time.
The lawyer was reading from a saddle-stitched
manuscript of many folios, and he didn't curtail his
study of it, not even when Hollister, after some very
natural hesitancy, took the chair hardly a yard from
the glass-topped desk. Mr. Brown went on reading,
now and then creasing back a page of the manuscript


44 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
carefully, mechanically, until he came to the final
sheet, and laid the manuscript on the blotter. Then
and then only did he take heed of Hollister; and he
plunged straight into discourse without the useless
formality of a salutation.
"Mr. Hollister," he said, in that dry, unemotional
monotone, "you are pronounced satisfactory by my
client." Hollister flushed and listed forward. "Be-
fore we discuss terms, there are fundamental condi-
tions which you should know. I shall embody them
in the form of questions. Are you prepared to be-
come an investigator for an unknown principal?"
"You mean—Pm not to know who he is?"
"Precisely. If you were to know his identity, and
to conceal it from third parties, I should have said
'agent for an undisclosed principal.' But I myself
hold that capacity. You are to be responsible to me.
Your instructions and remittances are to come from
me, your reports to be made to me."
"Why, I don't see why I shouldn't—"
"In one word, if you please."
"Why—yes. That is, if it's—all right."
Mr. Brown sneezed inadvertently, and looked
ashamed, as though nature had played a trick on
him.
"Very well. Are you prepared to accept this


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 45
charge under a six months' contract, verbal—but
valid—which will hardly limit the scope of your
duty, except to provide that nothing debasing or
menial shall be required of you?"
"Why, that depends," he puzzled. "If I could
have some vague idea—"
"The duties," said Mr. Brown, "correspond partly
to those of a diplomat, and partly to those of a—"
For the first time he refused the jump. His face
betrayed his anguish. "A—a confidential agent,"
he finished weakly.
Hollister sat up avidly.
"Nothing—criminal, is it?"
"My practise never remotely touches upon crim-
inal law. Neither is this a domestic matter. I may
assure you that any of your exertions under this
contract will be highly honorable, and creditable to
yourself. Can you bring yourself to reply to the
original question? Are you prepared to accept such
a commission? Here is a memorandum of the
terms."
Hollister took the document in longhand and ran
over the ponderous sentences. As he interpreted it,
the memorandum provided mainly for the control,
for six months, of the social procedure of Hollister
by Joshua W. Brown, in behalf of a nameless client.


46 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
There were clauses of limitation, and clauses of
elucidation; somewhere in the middle there was a
clear-cut definition. Hollister was to go where he
was sent, do what he was told, collect information
and hold his tongue. The whole program was
hazy, inconclusive; but he scented its connection
with the war, however indirect, and his spirit of ad-
venture rose powerfully.
"This means," he said quickly, "that I'm hired to
get possession of news of some sort—can't you tell
me if it's for an individual, or a government?"
"I can tell you nothing but what you have read."
"Well—it isn't a spy you want, is it?"
"No, Mr. Hollister. I think I may tell you that
you will act for American interests. Not by any
stretch of the imagination can your activities place
you in the category you mention."
"But—it's secret work, isn't it?"
"It is; but not among unfriendly powers, not of a
sort to subject you to international complications."
"That's all you can tell me?"
"That is all, Mr. Hollister. I know how unusual
this is, but secrecy seems to be necessary. You have
my warranty that the position is desirable."
"If—if I were your son, would you want me to
take this job?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 47
"I should. And I should be proud of you."
Hollister banked on the lawyer's colossal reputa-
tion for integrity.
•Til sign that!"
Mr. Brown's eyes flickered. In him that was
equivalent to ribald laughter.
"Not so fast! There is nothing for you to sign.
I was about to say that one clause has been omitted
from the memorandum. We have said nothing of
remuneration. Are you willing to accept a hundred
dollars a week and all expenses?"
"Oh—certainly," said Hollister, subdued.
"Are you prepared to begin this service at once?"
"I certainly am."
"As I said, your references have been investigated
and you are satisfactory to my client. If you will
wait, I shall have a notary witness our verbal con-
tract." He rang a buzzer and gave his orders.
Twenty minutes later, Hollister picked up his hat.
The gray little lawyer surveyed him steadily.
"You realize, of course, that our agreement, in this
form, is as binding as though committed to writing?
Very well. I am now to advance you three hundred
dollars, to be deducted pro rata from your weekly
remittances. For your legitimate expenses you are
to file vouchers each Monday morning. For the


4S WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
present you are to gather what personal belongings
you need, sufficient to enable you to start anywhere
on two hours' notice, and register as a guest at the
Hotel Aspinwall under your own name. You are to
conduct yourself as any ordinary man of leisure.
You are to follow your own inclinations, but you are
not to leave the hotel without advising the office
of the probable time of your return and of any ad-
dress at which you may be reached by telephone in
the interim. You are to admit to no one the ex-
istence of this contract; you are never to speak my
name in connection with your affairs; you are to
manufacture and maintain whatever explanation of
your circumstances you think logical and advisable.
You are not to admit to any of the men you named
as references that through their good offices you
have obtained this employment. They are ignorant
of the source of the inquiries I had sent to them.
You are not to admit that you have any business of
a confidential nature. Your instructions will come
from me by telephone, or typewritten without sig-
nature, on paper of this grade—water-marked with
a "B" enclosed in a circle as you see. Such in-
structions, if in writing, you are to destroy by fire.
Finally, you are empowered to terminate this agree-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 49
ment at any moment when, in your opinion, it is
likely to bring you into disrepute or danger. Verify
the amount of the money, if you please."
Hollister received a thick roll of bills, and man-
aged, after three trials, to reach the correct total.
"I'm—I'm simply to go to the Aspinwall—and
play around—and wait for further orders?"
"Precisely."
"Well—"
"There is nothing else, I think."
"No, but—suppose I want to communicate with
you?"
"That will not be necessary."
Hollister gasped.
"But—but—it might be—"
"I shall know where you are and what you are
doing. Incidentally, let me remind you that you
will always be near to another of my—agents, and
that I shall hear often of your progress. I shall re-
quire certain reports, and you will be told when and
how to make them. Otherwise—you will hold no
correspondence of any kind with this office."
Hollister wavered.
"Of course—it must be all right—"
"There were over five hundred responses to our


50 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
one advertisement,” was Mr. Brown's innuendo.
“And I have heretofore stated that I should be
proud to have a son in your place.”
Hollister revolved his hat. Now that he had
committed himself he was growing dubious. Had
he been too precipitate? And yet what other offer
of employment had he had?
“I’ll be at the Aspinwall this evening, then. And
—thank you very much indeed. I hope I'll make
good. Of course, I can't swear to that—but I can
work hard and keep my mouth shut.”
“I hope so. Good afternoon.” The lawyer ab-
ruptly switched himself off one case and switched
himself on to another. He took up a second saddle-
stitched manuscript. The interview was over.
Hollister, waiting for the elevator, felt thrills of
excitement playing cross-tag down his spine. Ad-
venture, mystery—the boundless possibilities en-
chanted him. A world of dreams had suddenly en-
gulfed him; he was bewildered, and a trifle shaken.
He was a secret agent, a nomad, a man of the dark,
a maker of history! This in the twentieth century
—in New York! A privateer of the metropolis' A
freebooter—with a job!
The elevator door clanged open and Hollister
stepped into the steel car.


V
IT IS now generally conceded by some Teutonic
scientists who toy gently with human impulses
that the character of any man can be determined
by his mental reaction to cleverly chosen catchwords.
The theory of the association of ideas, if practised
upon a docile and responsive criminal, should even-
tually drag from him evidence tantamount to a con-
fession; if applied to a normal subject, it should be-
tray his innermost thoughts and hidden ambitions.
Thus a demonstrator of the art of oblique analysis
might have torn Hollister's soul to shreds.
"When I have pronounced a word, Mr. Hollister,
kindly say, with as little delay as possible, the word
or image it suggests to your imagination. Remem-
ber, there is no escape from justice. Are you ready?
Now—Employment!"
"Joshua W. Brown!"
"Confidential!"
"Agent."
"Mystery!"
"Future."
"Adventure!"
52


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 53
"Er—Luna Park."
"You hesitated four seconds. Either you must be
lying, or your tastes are vulgar. Ready? Diplo-
macy!"
"Er—er—eh, yes! Diploma!"
"You are concealing something from me. Again
—Diplomacy!"
"Essential."
"Very good. Detective!"
"Er—why—that is, I— Well—excitement."
"Your face is red, and you twiddle your fingers.
You are now under suspicion. Try this one: Con-
tract!"
"Salary."
"Instructions!"
"Hotel Aspinwall."
"Very remarkable. The police are concealed in
the ante-room. Ready? Romance!"
"Girl."
"Ah! I must jot that down. Now—Future!"
"Excitement."
"Mission!"
"Er—er—private I"
"Hope!"
"Girl."
"That is sufficient. Science is infallible. You


54 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
have received unexpected employment from one
Joshua W. Brown "which involves your presence at
the Hotel Aspinwall, where you hope to find both
the excitement of prosecuting a secret mission, and
the stimulation of the society of an attractive young
woman. You are a man of warm impulsive emo-
tions ; you are sensitive and boyish; you still measure
life by its brilliance and color; you believe in the
eternal principle that the world was created solely
for the benefit of youth and love and laughter. Offi-
cer, do your duty!"
And Hollister might as well have retorted:
"Faith, a master logician, and a masterly deduction!
But why all the hocus-pocus? I'd have told you all
that in the first place, if you'd asked me!"
Indeed, for the first half-hour of his new tenure,
Hollister's thoughts were colorful rather than or-
derly. During the journey to his up-town boarding-
house, and even during the collection and appraisal
of his personal property, he was dominated chiefly
by the adventurous aspect of his accidental career.
He hadn't yet passed the dead-line of experience
beyond which the glamour of hotel life loses its
charm; and he hadn't yet entered that phase of
serene philosophical stability in which a pretty girl


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 55
appears as merely another instance of the common-
est natural phenomenon, plus an unvaried assort-
ment of features brought together and blended by
sheer luck. In his youthful ardor, he saw himself
already quartered magnificently at famous hostel-
ries; he saw himself the eenter of a swirling mys-
tery, whether commercial, social or political, and he
instinctively blocked out a thrilling drama in which
the star parts, in concord with all the ruling con-
ventions, must unquestionably be played by himself
and a young and beautiful heroine. At this point of
his intellectual development, the heroine was far
more vital to him than his salary, or the boundaries
of the field of his probation.
He had been ordered to equip himself in readiness
for directions which wouldn't allow him a wider
margin than two hours for the final details; so that
when he dismounted at the porte-cochère of the As-
pinwall at eight o'clock, he had with him a suit-case,
a Gladstone bag and a steamer trunk, and in these
various pieces of luggage he had managed to stow
away enough mobilia to outfit him for China, New-
port, or the defenses around Ypres. The balance
of his personalty he had left in custody of his land-
lady, who had wept bitterly because she thought that
Hollister was going to the front. Herself, she had


56 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
a cousin in the Scots Grays; Hollister, actuated
partly by his sense of humor and partly by a desire
to conceal the truth, told her that he was undecided
whether to enlist in the Prussian Blues, the Paris
Greens or the Rhode Island Reds—and got away
with it.
While his heart thumped agreeably under the high
pressure of his spirits, he registered at the hotel and
commended the location and furnishing of his room.
He would have liked to celebrate his emancipation
and show his newly-fledged contempt of currency by
an excursion to the theater, and a supper at the Clar-
idge; but since his engagement was so very recent
that the wonder of it still enthralled him, he resolved
to hold himself in loyal reserve, for at least the first
evening, to see what manner of divertisement might
be in store for him. Strengthened by this ambition,
he descended to the mezzanine floor with the inno-
cent intent of smoking one cigar, and consuming
one tall tumbler of Scotch and seltzer, and charging
both to his maintenance account; but he hadn't taken
a dozen paces from the elevator when he stumbled
headlong over his diminutive friend Kirby.
"Ouch!" ejaculated the smaller man, recoiling.
"Get off my foot, you big brute! Glad to see you J
What are you here for—got a party?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 57
Hollister seized joyously upon the Lilliputian.
"Far from it! You have, though?"
Kirby patted his pleated shirt affectionately.
"When you see me all Kuppenheimered up like
this, old top, there's just one answer. They caught
me when I wasn't looking. Oh, it's not a big party
—Ned Ballin, and some of his crowd. We're almost
finished. Why don't you prong in?"
Hollister shook his head regretfully.
"Why, I'd like to, Pete, but I'm not dressed, and
besides—"
"Objection overruled! Come on."
"Take your time! I don't want to break up your
gang. You're probably talking shop, aren't you?"
Kirby laughed up at him.
"Shop? What else do women talk about but
shops and'shopping? Of course we are."
"Women!"
"Two portions. Cousin of Ned's, and a pal of
hers. Both of 'em are—oh, Class A! Take one
squint, and you're gone forever. Come on in and
get all fussed—will you?"
"Well" said Hollister, brightening; "if you're
sure I won't spoil anything—"
"If you don't stand here talking all night," said
the little man'pointedly, "you'll be right in time to


58 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
spoil some biscuits Tortoni. Music cue. Let her
go, Professor!"
In another moment Hollister was bowing more
or less indiscriminately to a circle of people whose
names he caught imperfectly. In addition to Ballin,
there were two men and two girls; when a chair
was finally brought for Hollister, he found himself
seated between Kirby and the girl who was appar-
ently Ballin's cousin. Kirby's description hadn't
been faulty on the side of exaggeration—she was
indeed beautiful; and more than that, she had an
air of exquisite graciousness which wholly capti-
vated him. She was piquant and alert, and un-
afraid; at Hollister's opening sentence she looked
directly at him without affectation.
"Help!" he said in an undertone. "What's the
name of your friend with the furs?"
The girl smiled in quick comprehension.
"Ned's always like that when he introduces peo-
ple, isn't he? He never speaks clearly."
"He talks like a subway guard!" said Hollister.
Again she smiled. Hollister was gone!
"Miss Rexford," she told him. "Isn't she sweet?
And—did you get the others? The stout man is
Mr. Hartwell—he's a lawyer; and the other is Ned's


- -
-
- -
-
- -
- - -
-
-
º
- * -
- ---
-
--~~~~
- - -
- º
-
-
º º
º
sº
- -
-
- -
* - -
- -
º
-
-





WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 59
uncle, Mr. Cloud. And now you'd better ask Mr.
Kirby what my name is."
"Oh, I caught that perfectly," said Hollister, lying
about it. "Well, you've made up for one of Ned's
deficiencies, but the other one—" He sighed, pos-
sibly out of compassion for Ballin.
"What one is that?" she inquired, amused.
"That's something I don't see how he can explain.
He never told me he had you for a cousin!"
Her eyes twinkled appreciatively, but before she
could frame a reply Ballin spoke across the table.
"You'll have an ice, or something, won't you,
Phil?"
"Just a demi-tasse, if I may." A waiter was hov-
ering behind his chair; Hollister gave the order him-
self. "And a box of Rameses," he added.
The stout man, Mr. Hartwell, and Ballin's uncle
were arguing about the war, which at this period
of the world's history was yet permissible as a din-
ner topic.
"It's absolutely a matter of banking," proclaimed
the lawyer strenuously. "It's a matter of finance—
and in the long run, we've got to be the bankers for
the whole universe. There's no other way out of
it. And the war won't end until the average ex-


60 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
change of one side or the other depreciates thirty
per cent.—and then it'll stop, for the same reason
that so many enterprises with outside backing stop—
because the underwriters withdraw their support.
I don't mean that this casual upset in France counts
for anything; they haven't got their money on a
war basis, but—"
"I know a man who was in France," said Miss
Rexford, "with express checks for forty thousand
francs. But they didn't help much. If it hadn't
been for sheer good fortune, he'd have starved."
Kirby sat erect.
"Not to embarrass you at all," he declared, "/
was in Paris with a letter of credit for eighty thou-
sand francs. I couldn't borrow a sou on it. I was
hungry. I was under police surveillance. I was
suspected of being a Prussian colonel. They gave
me twelve hours to get out of France, but I couldn't
even get out of Paris. I tried to sell that letter for
twelve guineas, gold, to get to London—nobody'd
buy it. I was hungrier and hungrier. They told me
I had only six hours—if they found me after that,
I'd be shot at sunrise."
Mr. Cloud was visibly moved. He was a spare
reticent man of middle age; and jocularity had
missed him.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 61
"Extraordinary! I knew that war conditions
were fearful, but—tell us what happened!"
"Well," said Kirby, "I knew they couldn't shoot
me at sunrise, because I never get up that early—so
that didn't bother me. But I did starve to death!"
"He's being funny," said Ballin's cousin softly to
Ballin's uncle.
"Oh!" said Ballin's uncle, looking sheepish.
Mr. Hartwell addressed himself to Hollister.
"You were a classmate of Ned's, weren't you? I
understand that a lot of your boys are going over
to drive ambulances for the glory of it."
"Some of them are," said Hollister.
"Perhaps Mr. Hollister is going," ventured Miss
Rex ford.
"No," said Hollister, finishing the demi-tasse.
"I'm not. I might if I weren't so busy here. And
I may go yet. I'd certainly like to."
"What is your profession?" queried Mr. Hart-
well.
"I used to be with a brokerage house, but recently
I've taken on a curious—"
The fact that he had almost blurted out the truth,
and that he had saved himself in the nick of time
sent the blood to Hollister's cheeks, and the con-
sciousness that he was flushing made him flush the


62 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
more. He realized now that only gross neglect had
prevented him from concocting a plausible excuse
for his present and his future deportment; as it was,
he was staggered by the emergency which shouted
for an impromptu. And as he sat, stunned and
helpless under the mildly inquisitive eyes of the sex-
tet, the waiter, who was a very new and a very bad
waiter, offered him the check for his coffee and his
cigarettes. Unheeding Ballin's protest, he signed
it with his name and room number. "I—I'm loafing
just now," said Hollister lamely. "My regular work
is—commercial reporting."
"Living here, I take it?" asked Mr. Hartwell,
who had observed the signing of the check.
"Yes—surely." He knew that Ballin was staring
at him, and he didn't dare to look up. How could
he justify himself for living and loafing at the As-
pinwall, when two days ago he had exhibited him-
self to Ballin as penniless, and in dire need of funds.
How could he explain to Ballin without betraying
his trust? He could have throttled Kirby for drag-
ging him into this party!
"Well," said Mr. Hartwell, "it's a nice place to
live. As we were saying, Cloud—"
For the ensuing half-hour Hollister smarted in
self-accusation while the rumors of war raged


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 63
around him; not even the girl at his right could drag
him out of his mood. To be sure, these people were
all friends of his, or friends of theirs; but Joshua
W. Brown had enjoined him to give no cause for
especial interest in his behavior. No one but Ballin,
and possibly Kirby, was in a position to publish any
news of startling nature with respect to his recent
insolvency, and he could easily explain to Ballin and
Kirby, so that they wouldn't suspect the true state
of affairs. Nevertheless, a random sniper had
caught him without ammunition, and he was both
vexed and repentant. He was glad that he had this
respite; that he could think without interruption.
He couldn't have talked consistently with Ballin's
cousin while he was so perturbed—and he wanted
Ballin's cousin to like him. As she followed the in-
tricacies of the discussion he could feast his eyes on
her, and corroborate Kirby's judgment without her
knowledge. He said to himself that she was very
easy to look at; and no single item of her profile
or of her lovely gown escaped him; he even noted
that the sapphire and pearl bar-pin which was fas-
tened to her frock at the base of its V in back had an
insecure clasp, and he meant to tell her about it, but
he forgot that courtesy in the recurring surge of
self-condemnation.


64 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
The argument came to its predestined conclusion
—with no one converted and every one slightly ir-
ritated at the unintelligence of the adversary; the
party showed premonitory symptoms of breaking
up.
"I shall see you again, I hope," said Hollister to
the girl on his right.
"I hope so, too," she conceded. "And it's more
than likely—Miss Rexford and I are staying here,
you know."
"Here? In the hotel?"
"Yes." She turned to receive her farewell pleo-
nasms of Kirby, and Hollister was left with his
mouth vacuously ajar. Ballin said to him sotto
voce: "Phil, somebody telephoned me to-day about
you. Was it a job?"
Hollister nodded.
"See you about it later."
"Right!" Ballin moved away.
The others, too, were busied in the formalities of
parting, and Hollister stood somewhat aloof and
covetous. The stout Mr. Hartwell ranged alongside
and touched his arm.
"Every one else seems to be going; but won't you
drop down to the grill with me, Mr. Hollister? It's


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 65
early yet. I think a liqueur and one more cigar
might not be so bad, what?"
Hollister, watching five figures in leisurely re-
treat, assented.
"Why, I don't mind," he said. "It is early, isn't
it?"


VI
IN THAT lower chamber which wears the dis-
tinction of a club lounge rather than a public
cafe, the pair took refuge in a secluded corner.
Hartwell, dignified and imposing in his ultra-fash-
ionable evening clothes, sank into the yielding cush-
ions with a sigh of contentment; Hollister, with the
asceticism of healthy youth, commandeered a
straight-backed wooden chair, and was equally com-
fortable. Unobtrusively a waiter malingered in the
middle distance, ready to advance at the first sign,
or to retreat permanently if the guests seemed
minded to demand nothing of greater profit to the
house than privacy.
Hollister took out his cigarette case, gave invita-
tion by a lifting of the eyebrows, withdrew the offer-
ing, and proceeded to light his own Rameses and
smoke tranquilly. The stout lawyer was smiling
faintly at him—a smile of gentle cynicism and re-
proach. Hollister met his eyes and smiled a little
also. Hartwell grounded his elbows on the table
and gesticulated to the waiter.
66


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 67
"Kiimmel? Two—and a cigar, or do you prefer
cigarettes? That's quite all right—every man to
his taste. One cigar." He drummed on the mahog-
any with all ten fingers. "So you're a classmate
of Ned's, Mr. Hollister?"
"Yes; we three lived in the same entry of Stough-
ton our senior year."
"So? You mean you two and Mr. Kirby?"
"Yes."
Mr. Hartwell was the least bit puzzled, and
showed it by the tiniest agitation of his eyebrows.
"It struck me as odd that I never heard Ned speak
of you. I happen to know Ned very well—his uncle
I know much better. You roomed together—where
did you say?"
"In Stoughton."
"Ah, yes—next to Thayer."
"No—across from Thayer," said Hollister po-
litely.
"That's right—I'd forgotten. I'm not a Harvard
man myself—I used to know Cambridge pretty well,
though. Was Butler still on Massachusetts Avenue
when you were in college?"
"In freshman year, yes. Later he was on Plymp-
ton Street—called his place Butler's Pantry."
"A great character, Butler. You knew my old


68 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
friend, Fingerblatt, I dare say—he must have been
about your time, wasn't he? In the German depart-
ment?"
"I knew him, but—at least in my time—he was in
Comparative Philology."
"Really? I've always connected him with the
German department. By the way, what was your
specialty?"
"Modem languages, and economics."
"The last I knew, there wasn't a lecture-room
big enough for some of the Ec courses. They've
improved that condition, haven't they?"
"Very much," said Hollister. "They built Emer-
son and the New Lecture Hall. There's no trouble
about sections now."
Hartwell acknowledged the serving of the twin
kiimmels and the fat cigar with its crimson and gold
sash. Hollister also made acknowledgment; but
for a different cause.
"Then you went into—banking?"
"Brokerage."
"Not much difference these days, is there? Tht
war must have hit the Street very hard."
"It did, indeed. Nearly all the smaller houses
have shut down entirely."
"For the less fortunate men," said Hartwell,


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 69
blinking over the rim of his liqueur glass, "it must be
a trying interlude. Extraordinarily trying. But for
men like yourself—" He drank, and replaced the
sticky glass on the table.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why, it isn't every young man who's had the
prudence and sagacity to save money. And you
must have been very frugal—unless you are a luckier
speculator than I am."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
Mr. Hartwell was kindness itself.
"My dear Mr. Hollister, your modesty is very
refreshing—very rare. I'm merely complimenting
you. When thousands of bright young men are
hunting for almost any sort of work, you're sojourn-
ing at an expensive hotel, and waiting for the storm
to blow over. You're inviting assault and battery.
The first thing you know, you'll be a shining mark
for every bond salesman there is left in the city."
Hollister said nothing; he appeared to be basking
in the sunshine of flattery; as a matter of fact he
was forging the links of his chain of subterfuge.
"And yet," went on Hartwell smoothly, "although
I appreciate your logic—never take a lower salary
than the highest you've ever had; remain idle by
preference—there's no reason for a man like your-


70 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
self to overlook a good bet. And this very minute,
Mr. Hollister, while we're sitting here, a man of
your peculiar make-up can earn money so simply—
oh, with incredible simplicity."
"For instance?" Hollister was human enough to
take a tip.
"Well, I happen to know of several crevices where
you could get a foothold—one in San Francisco,
one in Seattle, one in Los Angeles, one in Vancou-
ver. Would you—as a friend of Ned Ballin's—be
interested in a proposition coming from me—a
friend of Ned Ballin's?"
"If it's on the coast, I'm afraid not; but it
wouldn't cost me much to listen, would it?"
"No; but are you free to accept such an oppor-
tunity?"
"Well—it depends."
"That's only natural. But it depends on what?"
"On the whole proposition," said Hollister warily.
Hartwell hitched closer to him.
"Mr. Hollister, you and I don't need to talk at
long range, do we? I've been sizing you up, and
I guess you've been sizing me up. Let's get down
to brass tacks. I know more about you than you
think I do; and how much you know about me I'm
sorry to say I don't know. Let that pass. We can


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 71
remedy that all right. Which would please you bet-
ter: San Francisco, or Seattle, or Los Angeles, or
Vancouver?"
"Why, I'm not panting to leave New York."
"I should expect to make it worth your while."
"I'm not sure that you could."
"Leave it to me. If you're free to start this week,
there's, say twenty-five hundred in it for you—in
sixty days. Can you do better than that here?"
"Really, Mr. Hartwell, I don't see—"
"Is it the price? Well, if you don't like mine,
what's yours? Make a counter-proposition. I'll
listen."
Hollister blew a smoke ring.
'"That isn't the point. I honestly don't see how
you can offer me anything definite when we've
hardly talked ten minutes; and besides, I'm not espe-
cially wild to go anywhere."
"Are you so situated that twenty-five hundred
for two months is nothing? Or are you getting more
than that—oh, no, that's ridiculous!"
"It's really a very attractive amount, but—I can't
think of it."
"I must have misjudged you. You're marvelously
fortunate, Mr. Hollister. You can refuse to consider
a handsome bonus—without even asking what you'd


72 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
have to do to get it," His smile gradually faded;
his mouth hardened. "I'm not accustomed to re-
peating my offers. This is final! Don't make any
mistakes—I know facts! I'll give you three thou-
sand to stay west of the Rocky Mountains until the
first of March. That's all I'll expect of you—stay
west of the Rockies. Do what you like! Go where
you like! Three thousand dollars, Mr. Hollister—
and no questions asked. You know what I'm talking
about. Take it or leave it. But if you don't take
it—just bear in mind an old motto." He punctuated
it with his hand on Hollister's knee. "Who seeks
adventures—receives blows."
"I don't think I care to leave New York," said
Hollister, breathing hard. The pretty girl had come
into the game sooner than he had expected, and the
mystery was at hand.
"That's your decision?"
"Yes."
"Final?"
"Yes."
"All right," said Mr. Hartwell, crashing his
hand down on the table, and overturning both
glasses by the concussion. "Then it's fight, is it?
You'll find me there, my boy I" He got up, and
snarled peremptorily to the waiter. "Check here!"


iackass”
re a young Jac
You'
“I’m done with you.





WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 73
"Mr. Hartwell—"
The stout man, stern of face, and forbidding,
swung toward him.
"I'm done with you! You're a young jackass!
You had your chance! You'll find out damned soon
who you're bucking! I'm through!" Ignoring the
waiter, who followed him in the futile hope of a
gratuity, he stalked straight out past the bar, paused
at the cashier's desk to pay his check and disap-
peared in the gorgeously marbled and upholstered
alley. Hollister, inhaling deeply, stood for a mo-
ment in blank agitation.
"Zowie!" he breathed. "Well—" He thought of
Ballin's cousin, and of the last words of the enraged
barrister. "Anyway," he reflected, "whatever the
blamed job is—I'm certainly off to a flying start!"
He went haltingly out to the stairway, when he sud-
denly remembered that Hartwell had labeled him
, a jackass. "Oh, thunder!" said Hollister dis-
gustedly. "Suppose I never see him again? I ought
to have slammed him!"


VII
A LTHOUGH he slept well, small things weighed
J \ on Hollister s mind in the morning. First,
there was his confession to Ballin—a confession
capable of serious backfire. Next, there was the
strangely melodramatic manner of his employment
—a verbal contract consummated before a notary—
and even if Joshua Brown had pledged his word that
no discredit could attach to Hollister, there was still
some latitude for conjecture. War is war; and
Sherman knew it. Third, there was reason to re-
gret a slip of the tongue at last night's party—a slip
which Ballin wouldn't casually pass over. Investi-
gation would show that Hollister had suddenly be-
come affluent enough to live at a great hotel—and
Ballin would wonder, and perhaps brand Hollister
as a hypocrite. Finally, there was the attitude of
Mr. Hartwell.
One of Hollister's cardinal principles held it child-
ish and wasteful to worry about either of two classes
of adversity—the things which he could avoid, and
those he couldn't. In the present instance he
74


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 75
couldn't retract his confession of poverty to Ballin,
and he couldn't explain his sudden increase of cap-
ital. What he had said to Ballin, and later to Bal-
lin's circle at the dinner table, must remain said.
One can't unscramble an egg. On the other hand,
he could at least attempt to pry further information
from Joshua Brown, and he could go straight to
Hartwell, and interrogate him point-blank — ask
him what in thunder he meant by. his silly riddles.
The wisdom of these courses was entirely another
matter; but the roads were open. There were, there-
fore, two worries to be eliminated because their basic
causes were impossible to remove; and two sources
of distress to be side-tracked because Hollister could
probe them as far as he liked. Ergo, there was noth-
ing for him to fret himself about.
He had cherished a brilliant yearning that he
might see Ballin's cousin, and her friend, at break-
fast; and to further that ecstatic contingency, he
chose a seat in the main dining-room instead of in
the grill, which would have been more to his per-
sonal taste. To his vast pleasure, this heroic sacri-
fice was in time rewarded. He hadn't half finished
his Irish bacon when the two girls came through
the portieres, and without discovering him, took a
table within easy bowing distance.


76 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
Actuated by motives of the purest strategy, he
didn't vary his regular routine. Not until after he
had accomplished his own breakfast did he avail
himself of the clear stage; then he strolled casually
out toward the door, recognized with a smile of sur-
prise his companions of the previous evening, paused
to bid them good morning, threatened to continue
his outward passage, and delayed in response to
their joint invitation. As a classmate and an inti-
mate of Ballin's he was doubly welcome. He re-
quired a repetition of this assurance before he
yielded to pressure. He was again by the side of
the pretty cousin, and he was proud and happy to be
there.
They had exchanged the usual amenities; they had
confirmed the state of the weather; they had agreed
that Ned Ballin was a very dear boy, and Kirby a
diverting comrade. It was Miss Rexford who
opened the argumentum ad hominem.
"Didn't you say you're in Wall Street, Mr. Hol-
lister?" she asked irrelevantly.
"I was once," said Hollister. "But I'm not now.
There isn't any such animal. It's extinct. I'm a
correspondent."
"Not a newspaper correspondent?" It was Bal-
lin's cousin who said this; and her voice was slightly


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 77
more eager than the circumstances seemed to war-
rant.
"No—I've nothing to do with newspapers." He
gave his fictitious story its first public trial. "I'm
doing special stuff—financial and economic—for a
sort of syndicate."
Miss Rex ford was attentive.
"How do you like it?"
"Very well indeed," said Hollister heartily.
"It must be—I should think it ought to be—
profitable."
He was a trifle bewildered by the quality of her
voice, just as he had been bewildered by her friend's.
The remark itself, too, was sufficiently detached
from the customary route of communication between
almost total strangers to induce wonder. Had Bal-
lin told all these people that three days ago Hollister
had claimed to be destitute? There seemed no other
origin for the general curiosity about his income.
"It is, fairly," he admitted. "Of course, all
this"—he included the entire room—"is part of the
scenery. I stay here because most of the men I want
to see come here. It saves time, and it's a good
background. And it puts me out of the common run
of news-gatherers. I can do twice as much as
though I had to wander in as a visitor whenever


78 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
there's some one I want to talk to—and it settles
the whole problem of entertaining, and all that sort
of thing." He watched carefully for the effect of
his maiden recital.
"What sort of men do you have to see?" Miss
Rex ford was frankly fascinated by his cosmopolitan
career.
"Oh, out-of-town bankers and financiers, railroad
men, lawyers, capitalists."
"It ought to be a liberal education in itself," said
Ballin's cousin quietly. "I'm glad you're not a
newspaper reporter."
"Why?"
"I don't like reporters."
"In that case, I'll say even more—I've never
written a line of anything but financial stuff in my
life!"
Both girls smiled at his round declaration.
"You're here indefinitely, then?" asked Miss
Rexford, busied with her finger-bowl.
"Yes—indefinitely. I may be here a month, and
I may leave to-morrow."
"To-morrow?"
"Why, I simply can't tell. I'm only a representa-
tive for some New York interests. I have to go
where I'm sent." He entrenched himself skilfully.
i


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 79
1
"It might be to England, and it might be to—San
Francisco."
Ballin's cousin was still sweetly composed; Miss
Rex ford, however, raised her head sharply, and
caught his eye.
"San—Francisco?" she repeated with a noticeable
break between the words.
Something impelled Hollister to complete the
train of thought which his careless mention of the
western city had suggested. It was a spontaneous
impulse; and yet, as it seized him, he sensed a quaint
connection between this conversation and that of
last night with Hartwell. Somehow Miss Rexford
had struck the dominant chord of that other inter-
view.
"San Francisco, or Chicago—or it might be Van-
couver or Seattle. Almost anywhere."
Ballin's cousin looked up at the wrong moment,
and caught their unwavering cross-fire.
"Why, how funny you two are!" she said.
"Edith!" Miss Rexford drew a deep breath, and
dropped her eyes.
"I was thinking—it must be great fun to travel
about—like that."
"Oh!" Ballin's cousin turned to Hollister. "EdHh
hasn't seen so much of this country as most people


80 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
have. She's wishing women had chances like yours
—just to travel around and see new places—aren't
you, Edith?"
Miss Rexford was singularly repressed.
"Perhaps. It just happened that you named
places I've always wanted to see—England—and—
and California."
"Well, you will," promised Ballin's cousin, releas-
ing her napkin.
Hollister, failing to comprehend the meaning of
the remark, rose hastily to draw out her chair. A
waiter who had been loitering near by sprang to
assist Miss Rexford. Hollister was suddenly hor-
rified and shocked to see this waiter deliver to Miss
Rexford a quick, significant, conciliatory wink; and
to see Miss Rexford convey a quick, significant,
highly-pleased nod to that waiter.
He apologized to Ballin's cousin for the awkward-
ness and undue haste with which he drew out her
chair.
■


VIII
MALL things, and more of them, weighed on
Hollister's mind. The challenge in Miss Rex-
ford's eyes was another mystery for him to ruminate
upon; added to Hartwell's conduct it convinced him
that Ballin must have given them both good occasion
to suspect his status. Hartwell, of course, had erred
monstrously; Hartwell had taken some crazy
premise, and built up from it. That much was mani-
fest. But Miss Rexford had peered at him as though
they held a secret in partnership, and he had all but
disclosed it. And besides, there was that staggering,
unbelievable reciprocity of signs with a waiter!
Hollister unlocked the door of his room, and
went in. The place was in disorder, but he had left
it in disorder. Still, it wasn't entirely as he had
left it. His suit-case, which had been lying open on-
a small table, was standing closed, on the floor. The
kit-bag, which had been closed, on the floor, was
gaping open, on a chair. The steamer trunk wasn't
on a rack in a corner, it was on a rack between the
windows.
He stood on the threshold, marking these evi-
81


82 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
dences of unauthorized disturbance. Plainly it
wasn't the official work of chambermaid or house-
keeper, for the bed was still tumbled. Wrathfully,
he bolted the door behind him, and went swiftly to
the kit-bag. The contents were arranged as method-
ically as he had himself arranged them—but ar-
ranged differently, and inverted. He dumped the
suit-case on the bed, and jerked it open. Here, again,
the neatness was that of revision. He lifted the lid
of the steamer trunk, and gazed at a jumbled heap
of his belongings. A pigskin portfolio yawned wide;
in it he had kept various papers of trivial worth; the
papers were intact, but they had been stuffed hastily
into the flap-pockets so that new crinkles appeared,
and dog-ears.
Hollister stood up and whistled. He handled the
portfolio reflectively; surveyed the havoc among his
most intimate possessions. And then, very calmly
and very purposefully, went down to the manager's
office.
The manager was a youngish man, made prema-
turely bald, and excessively nervous, by a decade of
close attention to details. Hollister accosted him
impetuously.
"Good morning! While I was at breakfast
my room was broken into. All my stuff is


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 83
upside-down. I want to know what you intend to
do about it."
The manager gasped.
"Broken into! Broken into!"
"Come up and look at it for yourself. I've got
three pieces of baggage, and every one's been tam-
pered with!"
The manager pressed a button on the wall, and be-
came feverish.
"That's too bad! Oh, that's most unfortunate!
Tampered with? Are you sure? What have you
lost? I'm sending for the head of the house detec-
tives—he's coming now! Come right in, Mr. Fer-
guson! This gentleman says his room has been
rifled!" The manager writhed alarmingly, and
mopped his forehead.
Hollister shook hands with Mr. Ferguson, who
was tall and sandy and saturnine.
"My name is Hollister," he said. "I'm in Room
690. When I came back from breakfast, I found my
baggage had been searched, and it's all messed up."
"Ah!" The big dour Scotchman sucked in his
breath. "What's missing?"
"I don't know yet. I came down to tell you—"
"You haven't told any one else?"
"No."
i


84 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Please go back to your room. In a couple of
minutes we'll be up. Please don't touch anything—
not a thing—and go as if nothing had happened."
He turned to the manager. "We'd better be safe,
I think. Can you keep the maids from that room
until we're through with it? You go ahead, Mr.
Hollister—and we'll be there in a couple of min-
utes."
Hollister had paced the floor of 690 not more than
a dozen turns when the manager arrived; and the
two had bartered only a few incisive sentences when
Ferguson, callous, efficient, joined them.
"To come singly," he explained to Hollister,
"doesn't stir up any talk—and things of this sort we
like to keep mum until there's something to say.
Now—where's the damage?"
Hollister indicated it, and told briefly where the
three pieces of luggage had been when he set out for
breakfast, and where he had found them on his re-
turn. With the assistance of the two men, he went
through them; at the end, he flushed angrily.
"There's nothing missing," he said, "but that
doesn't alter the case! Somebody's been in here,
and—well, what do you know about that!" He
picked up a small tray from the table.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 85
Ferguson was shaking his head over a pair of sil-
ver-backed military brushes.
"These are worth something. I don't understand
why they weren't taken if anybody was after plun-
der. Oh! Anything in the passport envelope of the
trunk?"
"No—nothing. My papers were all in the port-
folio. But— Why, this is bromo-seltser! I never
ordered any."
"Maybe he had documents—or securities!" said
the manager, fluttering. "Did you? Would any-
body have wanted anything you've got?"
"Never mind that now. He says nothing's gone,"
said Ferguson. "What's that—something you hadn't
ordered? Let's have a look at it. Now—I'll want
the floor housekeeper directly, and anybody else
that's had access to a master-key. I'll want no one
to leave by the servants' entrance without my per-
mission. And—well!—as I live—" He stooped,
and picked from the floor, close by the wainscoting,
a bar-pin, which glittered in the slanting sunlight.
"What! What!" exclaimed the manager.
Ferguson looked at Hollister.
"This isn't yours? And you say your kit-bag was
there? On that same spot?"


86 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"My bag was there," said Hollister slowly, "right
up against the wall. I remember the porter had to
move the trunk-rack to put it there. I told him to.
And the drop-light shines on the floor. If it had
been there last night, one of us would have noticed
it—"
He stopped short. The bit of jewelry in Fer-
guson's hand was the pin which Ballin's cousin had
worn at last night's dinner, the sapphire and pearl
pin with the broken clasp.


IX
JUST when the afternoon was running into dusk
so rapidly that the lighting of street-lamps was
a matter of corporate discretion, Hollister climbed
wearily up the steps, and passed through the swing-
ing doors of the Harvard Club. The net result of
his day's operations had been a series of impasses
which galled and irritated him. He had thought to
exact retribution for the unlawful rifling of his room
—impasse! because of Ballin's cousin's bar-pin. He
had thought to go to Joshua Brown, to wring from
him a thorough synopsis of the duties specified in
their contracts—impasse! because Mr. Brown wasn't
in, wasn't expected in, wasn't in the city. He had
tried to square matters with Ballin—impasse! be-
cause Ballin swore to him that he hadn't breathed
the secret of Hollister's difficulties to a soul. He had
volunteered to explain to Ballin—and Ballin insisted
that no explanation was necessary; he only rejoiced
that Hollister had found a plutocratic employer.
He had determined to hunt out Hartwell, and to
have either a battle royal or a love feast with him—
87


88 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
impasse! because Hartwell was in conference with
distinguished clients, and couldn't be interrupted.
He had essayed to find Ballin's cousin, and talk to
her about that bar-pin—impasse! because both girls
were out; not in the social sense, but physically out
—out shopping.
So that it was a weary and disheartened Hollister
who plucked an evening journal from the pile on the
lobby bench, and seated himself with the determina-
tion to dismiss all these conundrums from his calcu-
lations. He opined that soon enough his instructions
would come from Brown, and in the meantime
there was no use in aggravating his dilemmas.
He had money in his pocket, he had a guarantee
that his expenses would be paid; he had the surety
of lucrative and absorbing work in the near future.
The incident of Hartwell, and the incident of Miss
Rexford, and the incident of the bar-pin in his room
—these were gratuitous. But what had Hartwell
meant; and what had Miss Rexford meant; and how
had that pin transferred itself from a pretty even-
ing frock to a polished floor in Room 690? Hol-
lister scowled, and wished he were Cagliostro.
He flipped open the journal at the sporting page.
There was little to attract him—a few feeble com-
ments on the distant baseball season, and a didactic


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 89
essay on the professionalism of college amateurs.
Hollister sighed, and took an observation of the
room for chance company. In the furthest angle,
snug in the recesses of a massive divan, two familiar
figures were head-to-head. Hollister rose, and drew
near them. Startled, the two glanced up simulta-
neously. They were Ballin and Kirby.
"Hello, gents," said Hollister cheerfully. "Tell-
ing Ford stories?"
Ballin and Kirby looked at each other, and at Hol-
lister.
"Oh, no—not at all—not a bit of it!" sighed Bal-
lin. "And we were quite finished anyway—weren't
we? I was just going, Phil. Sit in!"
"Sure—sit down," invited Kirby, making place
for him. "Really going, Ned?"
"I'll have to," confirmed Ballin, struggling up-
right. "I'll have to hurry as it is. You've got my
idea, haven't you?"
"By heart. See you anon?"
"Quarter past," grinned Ballin, departing.
Hollister, with the manual query of a true host,
tapped the bell on a convenient stand.
"Well, Pete—I owe you something for last night,"
he said. "That wasn't any fraudulent advertising
you did, old top!"


90 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Thought you'd agree with me," said Kirby.
"How'd you like 'em?"
"Great. Only I don't know yet what her name
is."
"Whose?"
"Ned's cousin. Nobody's called her by it when
I've been around, and I've had too much to do to go
over the register."
"Why—Cloud. Frances Cloud."
"Oh! Well—how does the genealogy work?
She's—let's see—she's a daughter of Ned's uncle
—of Mr. Cloud?"
"No, she was his brother's wife."
"Wife!" said Hollister aghast.
"Sure—wife! Married to him, you know. This
way—that Cloud man that was with us is Ned's
uncle on his mother's side—get that? He had a
brother—do you follow me? Brother, being a good
judge of skirts, married Frances. All clear so far?
Brother, having typhoid, got thoroughly defunct
three years ago. Now are you all straight?"
Hollister, somewhat disillusioned, owned that he
was all straight.
"That's pretty tough, isn't it? I wouldn't have
thought she was married! And—three years ago?


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 91
Good lord! She can't be more than twenty-three
or four now!"
"She's twenty-one. Brother was a cradle-
snatcher."
Hollister pondered diligently.
"Well—if she isn't married again mighty soon it
won't be anybody's fault but hers."
"Brother was a hyena—ninety-nine per cent.,"
said Kirby. "He was a five-star, triple distilled hel-
lion. I don't know what in thunder she married him
for—he must have been forty-eight anyway. Same
old idea, I suppose—she was beautiful but poor; and
brother was rich and polished. Some people went
so far as to call him a shine. And he was mighty
fine to her until it was too late for her to renege. He
just carried her off her feet. Oh, he was a fine-
looking man—sort of combination of John Drew
and Jess Willard—almost any girl might have fallen
for him. Well, they had the devil's own time for
a couple of months, and then brother kindly shuffled.
She's been living in the West—Pasadena and Los
Angeles. So you see she isn't really related to Ned
at all."
"I see," granted Hollister. "By the way—who's
this man Hartwell?"


92 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Jim Hartwell," said Kirby, "is the rosy little
cherub that thinks he's going to be Number Two."
"Oh! That's bashful of him."
"It is bashful of him. I said he thinks he's going
to be Number Two. When Jim Hartwell only
thinks he can do something, he's being about as shy
and retiring as a dicky-bird in a flock of bald eagles.
He's a tough spade, Jim is."
"How do you mean?"
"Any way you want to take it. Knock-down and
drag-out, brass knuckles, lead pipe done up in the
Tribune, hurrah-boys, up and at 'em—that's how he
practises law, and that's how he does about every-
thing else. He's a holy terror on wheels, Jim is. I'd
be sort of sorry to see him get Frances."
"You seem friendly enough with him, though."
Kirby waved his hand airily.
"Politics is politics, Phil. You've got to play the
game—and there aren't any fixed rules and there
isn't any umpire. I've had to do some business with
him."
Hollister declined to quit this well of information
until it had been pumped dry.
"Where does this Miss Rexford fit in, Pete?"
"Why—she's Frances' companion—pretty girl,
don't you think?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 93
"She certainly is—she's a pippin. A—a salaried
companion, do you mean?"
"That's what I do. She's part chaperon and part
secretary. She's been on the job about a month.
Frances is dippy about her."
"So I gathered. Where'd she come from?"
"My dear boy, she materialized out of thin ether.
It was like this: we all thought Frances ought to
have somebody—"
"'We'!"
"Oh, I'm an old friend of the family, that's all—
sort of grandfather to the whole crowd. As I was
saying, we thought Frances ought to have somebody
with her when she goes beating it around the coun-
try, so we baited and pulled in Miss Rexford. I
understand she was with Mrs.—oh, she was social
secretary to one of the highbrows. She's a well-
bred kid anyway."
"Not a doubt of it," said Hollister dryly. "The
only thing I don't like about her—no, never mind;
I shouldn't have said that. I—"
"Go ahead. I'm not a sieve."
"No—it's nothing. Well, what are they going to
do—spend the winter in town?"
"Oh, I don't imagine they will. They'll very likely
go south in a day or so."


94 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Palm Beach?"
"Possibly. They've spoken of it. What's biting
you?"
"I wish I knew," said Hollister.
The little man cocked an eye at him, and all at
once was dogmatic.
"Well, / know! You needn't try to put die blink-
ers on me, Phil! I've got you, old boy! Haven't
I? Haven't I?"
Hollister affected the utmost nonchalance.
"Do you think you have?"
"I know I have! Quit looking like a prairie-fire!"
"Shut up!" said Hollister, not too brazenly.
"Don't get so disgustingly red, then! That's a
plebeian color. So you're in it, too, Phil. Welcome,
little stranger! You're Number 16, Series of 1914!"
"I'm not in anything / know of! You—"
"Don't try to hedge! Little Nemo's got two eyes
and a brain," declared Kirby, jubilant. "And it
takes an older man than you are to hoodwink him!
Why, if you hadn't joined the Benevolent Order of
Francescan Slaves I'd call you St. Anthony and be
done with it!"
Hollister's laugh was more lugubrious than merry.
"You're using up all your energy," he said. "Save
your breath. I may be a simple little city lad, but I


.WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 95
don't go around losing my head about people I've
met only twice, just the same."
Kirby pounced catlike on the numerical adverb.
"Twice! Twice, you blighter! When was the
other time?"
Hollister had to succumb to the small man's levity.
"Er—at breakfast. They happened to come
down—"
"Well played! And were you waiting for 'em
outside or inside?"
"Darn you! I was eating my own food!"
"That's one incriminating admission I've got out
of you," said Kirby serenely, "and before I've fin-
ished, I'll get more."
"I dare you to," laughed Hollister.
Nevertheless, when they parted at eight o'clock,
Kirby hadn't ceased to gloat over what he was
pleased to call his discovery. And Hollister, who
wasn't nearly so much irritated as he pretended, was
rather comfortably aware that Kirby wasn't too far
wrong. Of course, it was nonsense to think that
Ballin's cousin had so entranced him that his rapture
had been noticeable. He had hardly spoken to her,
except at the poles of the evening. Kirby was jok-
ing. Besides, even if Hollister had actually been
taken captive by that youthful widow whose widow-


96 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
hood was so difficult to believe, he shouldn't have al-
lowed himself to own his surrender until the enigma
at the Aspinwall had been solved. Hollister was
beginning to take as an incontrovertible fact the
absolute connection of one event with another; Hart-
well had definitely accused him of something which
was to Hollister still indefinite, and Hartwell, fail-
ing to bribe him, had threatened him; Miss Rex-
ford's speech, and her eyes, had clearly revealed a
mutuality of interest between herself and Hartwell;
a waiter had signaled to Miss Rexford; and Hol-
lister's room had been ransacked, and a trinket of
Mrs. Cloud's found on the floor. He was glad now
that he hadn't told Ferguson and the hotel manager
too much. He hadn't entrusted them with any of
these clues, and he hadn't betrayed the ownership of
the bar-pin. Since there seemed to be a full measure
of sensationalism in his career, he might as well re-
serve for himself whatever stimulus he could get
from it; and there was no sense in making it either
a police or a newspaper affair. He'd burrow down
to the truth eventually—he knew he could !
At the hotel desk he stopped to inquire for mail;
he was given a letter in a plain envelope. Instinct
advised him that the message was from Joshua
Brown; and discretion told him to read it in the


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 97
privacy of his own room; but he was tired, and for
the moment at least he was highly contemptuous of
intrigue. Moreover, he intended to hold another
parley with the manager before he went to bed; so
that he was still standing in the lobby when he pe-
rused the first bulletin from his employer. It was
without date or signature, typed in single spacing.
"Under pseudonym of John Smith, you will en-
gage passage for Hamilton, Bermuda, on S. S.
Devonian, sailing Thursday next, and await instruc-
tions at Hotel Hamilton under your own name. You
may expect cable remittance of $200 next Monday,
identification waived. Be guarded in your inter-
course with strangers, and take care to incur no
more enmities than you already have. Every com-
promise you can effect will be of permanent value.
On leaving New York, say nothing whatsoever of
your plans and leave no forwarding address. Merely
go, and go silently."
He held the sheet to the light, recognized the de-
termining water-mark of the B enclosed in a circle,
and glanced toward the nearest fireplace. At that
juncture some one spoke softly in his ear.
"Is this Mr. Hollister?"
At arm's length a young man correctly dressed for
the time and place was bowing deferentially.
"Yes," owned Hollister. "That's my name."


98 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
The young man's manner became positively sub-
jective.
"Will you be kind enough to step into the man-
ager's office for half a minute?"
"That's exactly what I was going to do," said
Hollister, crumpling the letter. He stepped to the
fireplace, and laid the ball of paper squarely in the
center of a mass of glowing coals. The correctly
dressed young man cried out under his breath,
grabbed the huge iron trident which stood among
the other implements of the fire-set, and prodded
frantically among the embers. He was too late;
the light bond paper flared up, and roared punily;
the young man looked at Hollister, and humped him-
self in the style popularly set down as one of the
idiosyncrasies of the French nation.
"I wish you hadn't done that," he reproved. "That
might make a whole lot of trouble for you."
"Look here!" said Hollister warmly, "what is it
to you how I dispose of my personal correspond-
ence? Who in thunder do you think you are? For
two cents—"
They were so near to the portal of the mana-
gerial den that the brisk young man opened it while
Hollister was in mid-sentence. With the sole de-
sign of filing a blistering comment upon the Hotel


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 99
Aspinwall, and its staff, and the insolence of its
deputies, Hollister followed that young man inside.
The door closed behind him. Then there were four
men in the room; these two who had entered, the
still fluttering manager, and Ferguson, the chief of
the house detectives, who was leaning negligently
against a window-frame, smiling in sour relish; and
as Hollister, unheeding, commenced fire against the
manager, the brisk young man said something in
an undertone, and Ferguson put up his hand in
pompous warning.
"Never mind that now—we've got something very
much more important for you to think about. Mr.
Hollister, before we take any drastic action, we
want a little confidential chat with you. I hope
you'll be candid. What we want to know is this—
can you give any plausible reason for the pin we dis-
covered on the floor of your room this morning?"
Hollister, dumfounded, shook his head.
"No, I can't. But I want to complain about—"
"Let's settle one matter at a time. You dined
here last night with several people, didn't you?"
"I didn't dine here, no! I met some people who
were dining—"
"Was there a Mr. Hartwell in that party?"
"Yes, there was."


100 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
The big Scot moved out from the window. "Mr.
Hollister, we want to know what was in the pass-
port pocket of your trunk this morning."
"Why—nothing at all," said Hollister. "I told
you it was empty."
Ferguson allowed his eyes to stray toward the
manager, who was going through an elaborate sys-
tem of fidgets.
"Would you take your oath to that, Mr. Hollis-
ter?"
"Yes, I would."
"You kept no—decorative jewelry of your own
there?"
"No—I haven't any."
"You'd bought no gifts for your friends, per-
haps?"
"No. If I had any idea what you're driving at—"
"You will," promised Ferguson. "Now—had
you left any money in your room when you went
down-stairs?"
"Not a cent."
"No large bills—which a man of your resources
might have mislaid and forgotten?"
"No—all my loose money I had with me."
"Well, then," said Ferguson blandly, "do you



"Three rings, four pins, two watches and a bill-book"





WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 101
mean to say that when you told us there was noth-
ing in that pocket, you didn't know that there was
something in it?"
"I certainly did not. And furthermore—"
"One moment! You admit that you left no
money or jewelry there? So that what was there
wasn't your property?"
"Why," said Hollister, vaguely apprehensive. "If
I knew exactly what's in your mind—"
Ferguson reached out to the desk, and took up
from the blotter a number of small articles.
"Three rings, four pins, two watches and a bill-
book," he catalogued, watching Hollister hawk-
ishly. "Can you explain how they got into your
trunk, if they're not yours?"
"Why—they might have been dropped—"
Ferguson smiled acidulously.
"It's not easy to drop jewelry clear through the
shell of a trunk and have it land in a fastened com-
partment, Mr. Hollister."
The brisk young man who had accosted Hollister
in the lobby couldn't restrain himself longer.
"He burned a letter in the fire just before I got
him, Mr. Ferguson."
"Oh, he did, did he!"


102 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
The manager interposed nervously: “Well, well!
It's simmering down, isn't it? Go ahead, Ferguson,
go ahead—get on with it!”
Ferguson glowered at Hollister.
“Now, Mr. Hollister—are you ready to tell us
where this sudden prosperity of yours came from?
How is it that since Monday you've blossomed out
as a-what is it?—city correspondent to nobody?
We've looked you up, Hollister—and I guess we've
got your number! V-e-r-y easy! A week ago you
were broke—overnight you're a nabob! One day
chasing a job; next day at the Aspinwall, and damn
the expense! And you can't explain how these valu-
ables got into your trunk while you were shouting
about being robbed yourself?”
Hollister, too addled to recall that, as a matter of
fact, he hadn't professed to have been robbed at all,
stared at the big detective.
“You haven't any statement to make to us?”
“No!”
The Scot turned to his young associate. “Go out-
side and telephone Mr. Hartwell's house, Sam.
We've got to have him for the prosecuting witness.”
He put his hand on Hollister's shoulder. “I’m go-
ing to hoſd you, Hollister, and—”
Hollister knocked away the hand.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 103
“Keep that to yourself! What do you mean by
trying to manhandle me? What's this whole row
about? What?”
Ferguson got between Hollister and the door.
“Grand larceny—that's what! Mr. Hartwell noti-
fied us at ten this morning he'd lost his wallet, and
we searched your room again at two and found it
with the rest of this stuff, right where you put it—
in your trunk. And we found something else that
was reported lost. An old game, Hollister—to cry
thief so’s to swing suspicion away from yourself.
It's a thousand years old. You ought to have
thought of something modern. We're not hayseeds
here! Three rings, four pins, two watches and
more than a hundred dollars in cold cash—Hollis-
ter, that's Sing-Sing!”


X
HEN Hollister heard the house detective
bark at him: “And more than a hundred
dollars in cold cash—that's Sing-Sing!” he was, to
his own astonishment, fully in control of his nerves.
The first shock of the accusation had passed over;
Hollister was sustained and soothed by an unfalter-
ing trust no less surely than if he had known the
origin of the quotation. He was supremely confi-
dent that wherever he was next to be recorded as a
guest, it wouldn't be at the best-known country seat
on the Hudson.
If he had to, he could summon the notary to
prove that his residence at the Aspinwall was a log-
ical outcome of his contract; he could summon a
regiment of his classmates to uphold his character.
But he was uncomfortably certain that any publicity
given to the nature of his task would destroy his
value for it; and he hadn't been on intimate terms
with a salary long enough to have lost his affection-
ate regard for a drawing account. He could extri-
cate himself from either predicament, but look what
it would cost him!
He smiled unconcernedly at Ferguson, and at the
104


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 105
manager, who was righteously appalled at his ef-
frontery.
"In plain English, that's Mr. Hartwell's book, and
you're trying to accuse me of stealing it?" he de-
manded.
"We do accuse you!" said Ferguson. "And of the
rest of the stuff."
"All right. What's next?"
"For you? The Tenderloin police station."
"Fine! And then I'll be up before a magistrate
to-morrow, and either discharged or held for the
Grand Jury. Isn't that so?"
"That's it."
"And if the magistrate doesn't choose to detain
me—what then?"
The detective and the manager regarded him in-
credulously.
"That's so impossible that you're wasting time—"
"// he doesn't," said Hollister,' "this is what'll
happen—a good many people in New York who've
gone to school long enough to know how to read
printing will have a pretty nice story served up to
'em with lots of details." He told off the items on
his fingers. "One—it's as easy for a guest's room
in this hotel to be broken into as it is for a needle to
go through burlap. Mine was—and now you're try-


106 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
ing to prove that I've got into somebody else's.
That's all the worse for you, because people don't
care very much about sleeping in a houseful of sneak
thieves. Two—the management, without any legal
authority, just simply takes upon itself the right to
visit a guest's room and search it. You haven't even
pretended to have a warrant, have you? I'm not
so sure—if I'm discharged by the magistrate—that
I haven't a very decent case against you, Mr. Fer-
guson. Anyway, it won't help your reputation.
Three—suppose, just for fun, I can tell—after I
have figured it out—who was in my room while I
was eating breakfast, and why he slipped all that
junk where you found it? You're not a judge—I
don't have to tell you—but I'm not afraid to tell
your magistrate. And incidentally, suppose some
of that stuff isn't exactly my own property, but I had
it as—as custodian—or trustee. Where do you think
you stand in the question of larceny? I know it's
trespass anyway. You may think you can hush it
up because you advertise—but I've got a better pull
than that! I've got a relative in the biggest adver-
tising agency in the world—and I rather imagine I
can get anything printed I want to!"
The big Scot laughed scornfully, but the manager
wasn't taking any chances.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 107
"Of course," he said hurriedly, "of course, if
you can prove anything—well, now, can you prove
anything?"
"I'm perfectly willing to talk to a magistrate, if
I have to. I don't care to say anything to you except
that you're wrong. You claim that something else
besides that wallet has been identified. By whom?"
"I'm not on the witness stand," retorted Ferguson.
"Neither am I, but I'm willing to be, and perhaps
you'll have to be! It looks as though it might get
amusing. I don't suppose you'll object to my using
your telephone, do you? Oh, you haven't anythmg
to worry about; I'll do it here where you can listen."
The manager flurried, shifted the responsibility.
"How about it, Ferguson?"
"Better let him do it, sir,"grudged the detective.
From the desk-instrument, Hollister called the
Harvard Club, and luckily caught his friend Kirby
on the wing. He said enough to bring Kirby at top
speed, and rang off. Five minutes later the two
supporting members of the cast arrived simulta-
neously—Kirby, diminutive but lowering, and Hart-
well, aggressive but outwardly calm. They were
admitted and seated in grim silence; Ferguson rather
ostentatiously locked the door. The manager
drummed nervously on his blotter.


108 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Well, well!" he said. "Let's get somewhere!"
Ferguson motioned toward Hollister.
"He's the man to do the talking."
"First," said Hollister placidly, "I'll just give an
outline to my friend here. That won't take long."
It took so short a time that it paralyzed Kirby.
He blinked at Hollister, and at Ferguson, and at the
disarmingly sorrowful Hartwell, shook his head,
moistened his lips and finally remarked, hardly
above a whisper: "Whew!"
"I agree with you," said Hollister. "Well, Pete,
I just wanted you to come in to tell these people
what you know about me; but before that, there's
one thing that does sort of bother me. I didn't care
to go into the thing before / had a witness, too. Mr.
Ferguson here says he found this bill-book in my
trunk. Mr. Hartwell says it's his, and he lost it
last night. I want to ask Mr. Hartwell if he usually
carries two bill-books?"
"No, I don't," said Hartwell. "And I want to go
*n record now, gentlemen, that for many reasons
this is a terrible revelation to me—terrible! When
I was told where this money was found—I couldn't
believe my senses. I sincerely hope there's a mis-
take—this young man is personally known to some
dear friends of mine."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 109
"It's his, fast enough," said Kirby, inspecting the
wallet. "I've seen it often—I remember it—initials
and all."
"Yes, and he had it with him last night!" said
Hollister. "But what I want to know now is where
Mr. Hartwell saw me last?"
Ferguson turned to the lawyer. "Where was it,
sir?"
"In the grill at about half past nine."
Hollister nodded.
"We don't quarrel about that. But if you don't
carry two bill-books, Mr. Hartwell, and you last saw
me in the grill—and you paid your check out of that
bill-book, when you were way down at the lower
end of the room and I was right where you left me
at the corner table—how do you think I got it away
from you? With a magnet? Or did I burgle your
house last night and get it there?" ,
Hartwell's eyes were popping.
"I didn't say I paid my check out of this book—"
"No—but / say so. I think the waiter might re-
member it, too. You were so mad you started out
without paying at all, and the waiter chased after
you for a tip, and you dropped your wallet, and he
picked it up for you, and you swore at him, and paid
at the desk, and didn't give the waiter anything but


110 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
a couple of nicknames. I think he ought to remem-
ber that sort of tip—don't you?"
Hartwell was inclined to flounder.
"It's possible I dropped it again—"
"Ah!" said Hollister. "Then your argument isn't
so good, is it? I might have just found it, and then
I'd be under an obligation to return it to you,
wouldn't I? If I didn't try to return it, I'd be as
guilty as though I'd actually taken it. That's your
case, is it? Well—I stopped in at your office this
afternoon. I doubt if your switchboard operator'll
lie about it, because she made the entry on your of-
fice record with an indelible pencil. Besides, I tele-
phoned to you later from a place where they keep
all the information about outgoing calls. Are you
going to swear that even if I did find your book,
and have it in my room, I didn't try to return it?
As a witness, Mr. Hartwell, you haven't much to
say, have you?"
Hartwell's mouth was clamped tight, as with a
muzzle. Ferguson and the manager glared, aghast.
Kirby snickered. There was a long blank pause.
"I think that eliminates you, doesn't it?" went
on Hollister with grave politeness. "I mean, as a
prosecuting witness? And the same waiter you
swore at yesterday might also recall a few of the


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 111
things you said when you were going out. You
weren't very ladylike, you know. And then my room
was entered—you might bribe him of course, but
you won't have much chance, because if I'm going
over to the Tenderloin station to-night, he's going
too. Voluntarily, I think. He used to be at a club
of mine, and now and then I used to give him more
generous tips than you do—oh, you might bribe
him, but I'll take the long end of ten to one on it.
Now, I'm not trying to threaten you, but if we're
going to talk about circumstantial evidence, I can
make just as wild guesses as you can. So isn't this
where you make a graceful exit?"
Hartwell rose, and turned vindictively to the
manager.
"Everything considered," he snapped, "I'd make
a fool of myself to prosecute. There's no doubt
about that! He can probably prove he's either been
to my office, or telephoned, and that covers him. I
haven't got a leg to stand on. You've certainly made
hash out of this! But even if I am—eliminated—
you go on! You say you found a whole pile of
loot in his room. Friend or no friend, he's got to
explain that! It looks bad—rotten! You get any
one of the others to start proceedings, and I'll be
on hand. I don't care whether my crowd knows him


112 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
or not, if he's guilty I'll put him where he belongs!
If he isn't, he's got a sweet young time to prove it.
I'll have to leave that bill-book for one of the ex-
hibits—"
"Please, Mr. Ferguson!" said Hollister quickly.
"You've got to play safe to insure yourself, now!
I'd just see to it, if I were in your place, that Mr.
Hartwell doesn't go down to the grill if that same
waiter is on duty. Even an odds-on favorite at one
to ten loses once in a while, you know. And I need
that witness, and so do you. Won't you just have
him sent up here to make an affidavit? Or see that
he doesn't talk to Mr. Hartwell. His name's Mike
—he's short and red-haired, and he came here about
October from the Harvard Club."
"That's reasonable," said Kirby. "I'm in favor
of it."
The manager, hesitating until he had a curt nod
of permission from Ferguson, gave the necessary
order by telephone. Hartwell, irascible and captious,
picked up his cane.
"You think you're pretty smart, Hollister," he
said, "but the time's coming when you won't. And
as for you—" He was addressing Kirby. "You'd
better be a little more careful about your associates."
"Jim," said Kirby quietly. "Ned Ballin and I


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 113
have known this man for ten years. He's all right.
There's a big mistake somewhere, and we're going
to find out what it is. You lay off for a while."
Hartwell gestured to Ferguson.
"You can get hold of me any time. I'm not
through with this case by any means. All the soft
soap in the world can't make me shield a crook. I'd
suggest you call an officer, and make the charge
petit. You've got grounds enough for that, any way.
Under the circumstances, I can't prosecute. He's
protected himself against me! But you send for me
when you want me, and I'll come. That's all." He
unlocked the door and went out stormily.
In the verbal vacuum, Hollister smiled at the
manager.
"Now let's take up the rest of this collection—I
don't know anything about it. I haven't anything
more to say about it. I told you my room was up-
side down, and you saw it. There was a bromo-
seltzer I never ordered—that's proof enough that
somebody was in there! That bar-pin you discov-
ered yourself. The other things—by the way, who
lost the ring you said had been identified?"
"A Miss Rexford," said Ferguson stonily. "And
as for that drink, there's no record—"
"Indeed!" flashed Kirby. "May I see the ring?"


114 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
He rotated the trinket in his hands, and all at once
began to laugh.
"What's the joke?" asked Hollister.
"Why—it might be hers—but if it is, I don't think
a lot'of her taste. May I see the other things?
Thank you." The three watched him narrowly. He
replaced all but one of the articles on the manager's
desk. He hugged his knees, and expanded hila-
riously.
"Some class to your detective bureau," he compli-
mented Ferguson. "Those two watches are exactly
alike; two of the pins are exactly alike; two of the
rings are exactly alike. Your guests must have hit
a thirty-nine-cent bargain sale. And if Miss Rex-
ford thinks this ring is hers—look! He reached out
to the window close beside him, and dragged the
stone down over the pane. He dug viciously. He
handed the ring to Ferguson. "Glass won't scratch
glass," he stated. "I'm not an expert appraiser, but
my guess is that that ring came with a package of
popcorn at Steeplechase Park. Are you sure she
identified it?"
Ferguson was goggle-eyed. The features of the
big Scot were remarkably distorted, and his cheeks
were burning.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 115
"Mr. Kirby, she notified us—"
"Are you sure she identified it?"
The manager dashed bravely to the rescue.
"She said she'd lost a diamond ring! She said
so this noon before we discovered—she described it
f—she and her friend haven't been in the hotel
since—"
"Oh!" said Hollister excitedly. "Now I get it.
You hadn't any positive identification, had you? You
were throwing a bluff—to get a confession^out of
me, if you could, and—"
"The whole bunch is department store jewelry,"
said Kirby, driving in the wedge. "The watches are
fake Swiss—they're not even gold—they're oroide.
They're plated—and—by gosh! One of 'em hasn't
even any works! And if Miss Rexford lost a dia-
mond ring, this isn't hers, because it isn't a dia*
mond!"
The big detective sat down with a bang. His
breathing was stertorous, and uneven. As he cast
about for a final weapon of offense, however feeble,
he sighted the bar-pin, which had been somewhat
segregated.
"How about this?" he managed huskily.
"That?" He tossed it aside. "That's rubbish,


116 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
too/ Let's be constructive. Now I'm here to vouch
for Mr. Hollister. I do vouch for him. And if
you don't know who I am—"
"Call up the governor," said Hollister wickedly.
"Or the president of the Central, or any bank—"
"Cut that out, Phil!—It seems to me, gentlemen,
that you've got yourselves in rather of a mess. If
you'd taken the trouble to go about this thing de-
cently—"
"If the jewelry isn't worth anything, and it hasn't
been—appropriated," interposed Hollister, "and if
I'm doing my best to see that Mr. Hartwell gets
back the money he lost—"
"You're in Hohenzollern, gentlemen!" finished
Kirby.
"I was coming to that—but I think that all I'll
ask you to do is to see that I get the affidavit I want
from that grill-room waiter, and—"
"But—but," puffed the manager, "when you say
that you're implicating Mr. Hartwell! That's—
that's impossible! I can't countenance it! Mr. Hart-
well is an old, old customer of ours—we know him
very well—"
■'Not a bit of it," said Kirby hastily. "Not for
one second. He simply made a mistake." He
nudged Hollister. "The way you jumped on him


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 117
made my friend here sore, or he'd have been more
tractable. He didn't explain about this junk, be-
cause it wasn't important enough. Isn't that right,
Phil?"
"Chambermaids like it,"_ gulped Hollister. "It's
better sometimes than giving 'em money. Only that
watch without the works gets met I must be a
sucker!"
"And as for Mr. Hartwell's money—Mr. Hollis-
ter has made two attempts to-day to see Mr. Hart-
well about it. Where does that leave you?" ■
"But he was so evasive!" said the muddled man-
ager. "He was so arbitrary! He didn't deny—"
"I shouldn't have been so quick," conceded Hol-
lister, on receipt of a second nudge from Kirby.
"I've nothing against Mr. Hartwell, or you. I was
sore on general principles—anybody'd be. You
made yourselves entirely too officious. I don't mind
telling you now that Mr. Kirby has spotted the
facts."
The manager was palpably relieved.
"I'm glad to hear you say that. This has been a
most unfortunate day. And—if we're coming back
to the theory that your room was really entered—"
"Forget it!" said Hollister. "I'm leaving so soon
that we couldn't get anywhere."


118 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
The big detective had dropped his head in his
hands. Hollister touched his sleeve.
"That pin you found in my room," he said. "I'd
like to have that, if you don't object. It isn't mine;
it probably belonged to whoever rummaged my
things. If you do object—"
Ferguson acquiesced wearily.
"Take it! I'm through with this case!"
"Thank you. Now can I have my affidavit?"
"The man's outside—I'll have him in," said the
manager, eager to please. "Now it's understood
that neither of us is to talk for publication—or to
any one not already involved?"
"I'm willing," said Hollister soberly. "Provided
I get my affidavit that Mr. Hartwell had that book
after he left me. I'll keep it for a souvenir."
Half an hour later Kirby and Hollister, surfeited
with apologies and recantations, shook hands at
the main entrance of the hotel.
"Much obliged, old man," thanked Hollister
gratefully. "Say, what on earth is this shack? If
it hadn't been for you—"
"Oh, piffle I"
"But everybody except you was too blamed ex-
cited to pay much attention to the junk, and if you
hadn't—"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 119
"Rubbish I"
"Well, tell me this: Why in the name of all
that's holy did you want to protect Hartwell? If
that fat lobster didn't try to frame me—"
"Hush, Phil! Say—way your room upside
down?"
"Absolutely!"
"And none of those fake things were yours?"
"Of course not."
"And you didn't find Hartwell's money?"
"No. They sprung it on me just before I phoned
you. He's a damned skunk—"
"Hush!" said Kirby uneasily. "Politics! He's
after you for some reason. I wish I could tell you
why. But for the love of Mike, hush! Don't talk
—don't think!—not until you're out of the state.
Politics, dear boy—politics—politics!"


XI
OW and again there are dynamic moments
N which flog into living flame that spirit of
adventure which is the prime heritage from the day
that is past to the day that has waited before. There
were such moments in the autumn of the Year of
Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred and Four-
teen. But war itself is a fine inspiration; and many
a one who might gladly march to meet his boyhood's
dream to the accompaniment of a fife and drum, and
daintily-blown kisses, might falter a little, and calcu-
late the cost, and think twice of the creature com-
forts of the metropolis before he set his face toward
the unknown, and went blindly out against hazards
which, while they lacked the glamour of chivalry, of—
fered a modicum of danger as a substitute. To any
but a young man, splendidly confident, ravished by
all the various ramifications of life, an eager roman-
ticist, a fearless wayfarer in the paths of jeopardy,
such a career would be manifestly absurd. To Hol-
lister, therefore, it was manifestly desirable.
The first twenty-four hours of his privateering
120


122 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
luggage. But why? And Hartwell, when he
couldn't buy Hollister, was willing to sell him.
Again, why?
Hollister thought that if he could have remained
in the city, he could have found much entertainment
and no little mental intoxication in the revolution
of this circle about him. He would have needed no
Broadway melodrama, no transient best-seller to
occupy his ingenuity. But his commission now
bound him to Bermuda; and the meager sketch he
had received from Joshua Brown led him to assume
that a certain degree of galvanism wasn't to be miss-
ing from the incidentals of his employment. So that
he made ready for the voyage with the fervent
prayer that at some not too distant date he would
encounter Hartwell and the two girls again. He had
something to teach Hartwell, and something to learn
from all three of them.
Pursuant to his directions, he didn't tell either
Ballin or Kirby that he was quitting New York. He
left no forwarding address for his mail. When the
hour struck, he merely chartered a taxicab and dis-
appeared within it, to emerge at the dock fully
ninety minutes prior to sailing time. He didn't in-
tend to run the risk of any unforeseen delays, and
during the southerly progress of the cab he kept


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 123
his eyes riveted on the chauffeur's neck. He was
just young enough, and just visionary enough, to
recollect sundry anecdotes of the perfidy of New
York chauffeurs; so that he wouldn't have been
taken off his guard if, in a restricted alleyway, the
jehu had pulled off his false whiskers and stood
revealed as a prosecuting witness or a plain-clothes
man armed with a civil summons.
Once aboard, he relaxed, dismissed his fantasies,
and gave himself up to undiluted anticipation. His
stateroom was amidships, on the promenade deck;
he feed the room steward liberally, and encouraged
him by promising to be a good sailor. The steward
bit the silver dollar and spoke of the Gulf Stream;
thus indicating the pessimism of the proletariat.
These preliminaries accomplished, Hollister demon-
strated his foresight by engaging an exclusive loca-
tion for his deck chair, and by feeing the deck stew-
ard. He rented a blanket and saw it placed in the
chair. Then he lighted a cigarette and hung lazily
over the rail to watch the incoming passengers.
As he had reckoned, there were few of them. To
the distressed public, Bermuda was in the geograph-
ical center of the war zone, and the high seas unsafe
for any whose names were easily pronounceable.
Instead of the usual bustle and confusion of sailing


124 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
day, the pier presented an admirable example of
order and dulness. The heap of luggage at the gang-
plank never created a problem in transportation; it
oozed inboard as soon as the labels were attached.
The line of tourists was a line of stragglers; a man
here, a man and his wife there; after ten featureless
minutes, two women, giggling; after five minutes,
another man, with a carton of Mothersill's in his coat
pocket and strychnine pills in his interior. There
was none of the frenzied joy, or the frenzied sor-
row, which Hollister, from his transatlantic travels,
had expected; the facial emotion of the passengers
could have been duplicated at the runway leading
to any suburban train out of the Grand Central Ter-
minal. Hollister gave up in disgust, and wandered
into the smoking-room, where he found a native
Bermudian of rich complexion, and a vocabulary
yearning to be loosed; and there he stayed until Fort
Totten was off the starboard quarter, and the atmos-
phere of the smoking-room was offensive. There-
upon he lunched in solemn dignity, and afterward
he vegetated on deck.
He had by this time discovered that the Bermuda
packet wasn't even a foster-nephew to a Cunarder.
It was more like a tramp freighter carrying passen-
gers to cut down the overhead. The diversions were


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 125
limited to artistic appreciation of the sea, if any; to
hearing, seeing, smelling, and—if the exercise of
those functions hadn't blunted the other senses—
to reading, talking and eating.
Of artificial means to destroy ennui, Hollister
found none at all—not even shuffleboard. Since
the passage is too brief to warrant expensive equip-
ment for deck sports, the ragged quoits of a bygone
generation hadn't been renovated since Shakespeare
wrote The Tempest and set it in the caves of
Hamilton Parish. Besides, there was no one with
whom Hollister would have liked to joust. Resign-
edly he folded himself into his steamer chair, en-
compassed himself with the blanket and smoked
until the terrific moans of an elderly spinster to lee-
ward roused his compassion and sent his cigar drift-
ing down-wind to the sea.
His seat was close to a companionway; presently
he knew that some one had ascended the steps and
was clinging desperately to the door-frame, and
apotheosizing the god of the waters. A fairly heavy
sea was running, and the Devonian had begun to
pitch; Hollister prepared to be diverted by the antics
of another amateur to make a landing by means of
vigorous tacking. But as the some one didn’t gain
headway, Hollister was moved to investigate. This


126 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
brought him into direct communication with the
wild eyes of an otherwise meek and colorless man of
middle age; a man who, without yielding uncondi-
tionally to the prevailing indisposition, was never-
theless in abject fear that he was going to. He
clung passionately to the door- frame and gave Hol-
lister the look of a paw-fast animal. Hollister's
memory skipped one cylinder and suddenly ex-
ploded. He wiggled free from his blanket and
steadied himself on his feet. "Why, Mr. Cloud!" he
cried cordially. "Where'd you come from?"
Ballin's uncle dared the most instantaneous of
responsive smiles; his mouth opened and shut with
a click; his eyes bulged. As though in full extenua-
tion of his posture and his tactics, he dared one dis-
trustful peep at the rolling waves and shuddered.
"D-down below!" he said, in words unaccented.
Hollister, who in his time had known the friend-
less sensations which Ballin's uncle was now experi-
encing, fought off his rising humor.
"Here's a chair right by mine—come on, Mr.
Cloud. I'll help you!"
He piloted the unresisting man across a perilous
stretch of six feet and deposited him safely. Mr.
Cloud emitted an inarticulate murmur, which had in
it a faint reminiscence of gratitude, and inhaled very


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 127
deeply and very rapidly of the curative air. Hol-
lister, realizing the quality of perfect sympathy,
didn't bother him—he took his own seat, rewound
himself in his rug, and watched the waves roll by;
and as he watched he told himself that it was odd–
very odd–that from the very inception of his em-
ployment, one of Ned Ballin's dinner party had
always been in constant attendance upon him. He
said to himself that the secret principal of that ex-
ecutory contract must have hired him as a family
watch-dog.
In the course of five or ten minutes Mr. Cloud had
revived sufficiently to lift his head, and to regard
the foreground with less personal animosity. He
beckoned weakly to a passing steward, commanded
a split of White Seal and a cast-iron biscuit; and
when he had assimilated them he more closely ap-
proximated the normal condition of mankind. He
brushed a malingering crumb from his waistcoat
and spoke to Hollister.
“Thank you very much,” he said, pulling his
yachting cap about his ears. “I stayed below—
almost—a little—too long.” His diction was that of
a diffident boy who dreads the sound of his own
voice, and so hunts diligently for words, and finds
them after agonized search.


128 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Pretty stuffy down there," allowed Hollister.
"Stuffy and—and warm. You're going to Ber-
muda, too, are you?"
Hollister, who loathed the obvious, would have
replied to a younger man: "No; I'm just taking a
subway express to Times Square," but in deference to
the age of Ballin's uncle, and the kinship of Ballin's
uncle to Ned Ballin, he replied: "Why, yes." For
the life of him he couldn't help adding, "Are you?"
Mr. Cloud nodded several times, so that his sena-
torial whiskers blew sidewise and lent him an ap-
pearance of great rakishness.
"Yes, I am. I—thought I would. Well—how
are you since we—saw you?"
"Fine," confessed Hollister. "How are you?"
"Excellent," said Mr. Cloud, in a burst of con-
fidence, after giving the matter proper considera-
tion. "Where shall you—stay?"
"Why, I'd thought of going to a hotel." He
obeyed instructions and didn't say where. "And
you?"
"To the Hamilton. It's very—it's so very con-
venient." He began his expositions as though reti-
cent, and finished them as though he had impulsively
decided to make a clean breast.



"You're going to Bermuda, too, are you?"





WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 129
"Convenient to what, Mr. Cloud? I've never
been there, you know."
"Convenient to everything." For a horrible sec-
ond Ballin's uncle looked both surprised and despair-
ing; and then he took heart again. "To town—to
Hamilton."
"I haven't decided where to go yet."
"Try the Hamilton. It's very—convenient." He
relapsed into silence and Hollister mercifully held
his peace. At length Mr. Cloud gathered impetus
and remarked brilliantly: "Convenient to town—
and the shops—everything."
Hollister didn't laugh.
"The trip is a bit rough, isn't it?"
"Rough!" echoed Mr. Cloud, showing pale terror
in his blue eyes. "Wait until we hit the Gulf Stream
to-night. I—two years ago I fell out of my bunk.
It was the top one, too."
"Ouch! That couldn't have been pleasant."
"No—you're right. The worst of it was that I—
well, I almost broke Mr. Hartwell's back."
"Whose back?"
"Mr. Hartwell's. We had a cabin together."
"Oh!"
"Mr. Hartwell and I had a sort of partnership—


130 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
we have one now—in common. We came down
here for a week—to talk in peace." Mr. Cloud was
gazing at Hollister as though to secure absolution
for this sin. "He's a—very capable executive."
"I might have guessed it."
"He has a very powerful will."
"Yes, I imagined so."
"And he's a man of very sound financial ideas."
"He seems able to safeguard his own interests."
"Quite true. I should rather be on his side than
—on the other."
"Probably most men would," said Hollister,
busied with retrospection.
"You know—Ned told you perhaps—that he's
practically engaged—to my sister-in-law?"
"Is that so? Well, he surely deserves to be con-
gratulated," said Hollister.
"Yes. He's much upset at this—separation."
"What separation is that?"
"Why—this!"
Hollister caught his breath.
"You don't mean—she's with you!"
"Certainly. She and Miss Rexford."
"And—not Mr. Hartwell?"
"No. He's in town."
"Nor Ned, nor Pete Kirby?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 131
"No."
"Just you three?"
"That's all. We're coming down for a month."
Hollister was both stupefied and thrilled. Just the
three of them! Two days aboard ship—and a
month in Bermuda 1 Time to talk to Ballin's cousin;
time to talk to Miss Rex ford; time to talk to Mr.
Cloud! Time to play detective—to learn all that
he was aquiver to understand. And—Ballin's cousin
was on board! He composed himself with difficulty.
"It's queer, but—I didn't see you at the dock."
"We were very late. Mr. Hartwell thought we'd
missed the boat. And, come to think of it, I don't
remember seeing your name on the list. Mr. Hart-
well kindly got a copy for us—often we have
friends."
"They must have been careless at the booking
agency," said Hollister. "I'm all here." He looked
out over the tossing waves, gray and chilly. "It's
a great afternoon, isn't it?" he said rapturously.
"Wonderful!"
Mr. Cloud's eyes bulged and he was temporarily
petrified.
"Y-yes," he said, hopeful since his reprieve.
"Y-yes—if you think so."


XII
IT WASN'T until the following day, however,
that Hollister caught his first glimpse of Ballin's
cousin. In the meantime she hadn't appeared at din-
ner, nor had she gladdened his heart by her subse-
quent presence on deck. But at ten o'clock on a
sunny November morning, Hollister, coming into
the home-stretch on his self-inflicted constitutional
of a dozen laps, descried a dainty figure in the bows,
and after a little wary skirmishing and scientific
reconnoitering, he strode confidently forward and
lifted his tweed cap.
"Mrs. Cloud?" he said.
Her pleasure at the congress was no less obvious
than his; so that her welcome was doubly delightful
to him.
"My brother-in-law had told me you were on
board," she said. "So I knew I'd see you sooner
or later. But what a coincidence!"
"Isn't it!" he agreed happily.
"We missed you in New York. I thought you'd
deserted us for the West."
"No," he corrected. "I said I might be sent west.
132


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 133
I said I might be sent anywhere. And then I was
sent to Bermuda." He wondered how much she
knew of the occurrence at the Aspinwall, and what
her analysis had been. "But I don't believe I'll find
half so much action down there as I did right in the
city."
Her profile was toward him, so that he couldn't be
certain if her expression changed appreciably.
"Really? I thought the Aspinwall was stupid!"
"Once I went over a powder mill," said Hollister
irrelevantly. "It needed paint and shingles and a
glazier and a gang of carpenters—but!"
Ballin's cousin laughed softly.
"The only tingle I had in a fortnight was when
I thought our room had been robbed. Had you
heard about that?"
"No!" said Hollister. "Is that a fact?"
"For a while we thought it was. Miss Rexford
missed a diamond ring and a pin, but a maid found
them, and the manager sent them back to us—at
least the ring. The pin she never recovered."
"Is that so? Was it a valuable ring?"
"Oh, yes, indeed—a Tiffany solitaire. It was
worth three or four hundred dollars. But it was
found the same day. The pin wasn't worth any-
thing, but I'd just given it to her, and she was sweet


134 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
enough to be more anxious about that than she was
about the ring."
"Oh!" said Hollister. "So she got her ring back,
did she?" He explored his waistcoat pocket to make
sure that the bar-pin was still safe.
"Oh, yes. And the little pin I gave her was just
seed pearls and little sapphire chips. So our ex-
citement didn't last long."
Hollister realized that if she weren't actually ig-
norant of his recent star-chamber session, she was
a very workmanlike actress. Her look to him was
superlatively frank and honest. But the ring Kirby
had tested against the window-pane hadn't been a
carboniferous product! It had been paste!
"My own experiences weren't exactly that dis-
quieting," he said; "but they were swift enough for
me. How is it that Ned isn't with you?"
"Oh, he may run down later; he's thinking seri-
ously of it. I hope he does."
"So do I," said Hollister. "Ned's one of the fin-
est fellows I ever met in my life. We were together
a lot in Cambridge, you know. And the worst thing
anybody could ever say about him was that he never
had hard luck enough to be awfully altruistic. He
didn't get the point of view of the under-dog. Pete
Kirby used to tell him that what he needed was a


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 135
peck of disaster and the mumps on both sides at the
same time. But he certainly has played in luck."
She wasn't altogether pleased at this.
"Don't you think you might have misjudged him,
Mr.Hollister?"
Hollister leaned both elbows against the rail and
gloried in the fine stinging spray against his cheeks.
"Do you think so?"
"Well," said Ballin's cousin, peering ahead at the
diving bow, "perhaps you didfi't understand Ned.
Very few people do. He's ashamed to wear his feel-
ings on his sleeve. And, besides that, he's the proud-
est man in New York. Why, to see him now, you
wouldn't suppose that Ned had a worry in the
world!"
"No—because I'm sure he hasn't."
Her smile was enigmatical.
"Then you did misjudge him. Ned isn't the hap-
piest man I know."
"But who is? Unless, of course, it's Mr. Hart-
well."
Ballin's cousin started perceptibly; and into her
eyes came a fugitive light which had its disturbing
influence on Hollister.
"Why should you say that?" she asked in an un-
dertone.


136 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
Hollister bowed gravely.
“Am I precipitate? I understood from Pete
Kirby that Mr. Hartwell had every reason to be the
happiest man you know.”
She looked at him with misgiving, while the color
flooded her cheeks. He realized, without lowering
his gaze, that both her hands were gripping the rail
more tightly than the motion of the ship required.
“I—I can't pretend not to know what you mean,
but—it isn't true! It isn't true!” Her eyes were
suddenly dimmed; she turned away from him, and
left him speechless, and contrite, and damning his
impertinence. He coughed needlessly and thought
of various speeches of emendation he might make.
None of them seemed adequate. He looked at the
girl, whose aspect was alarmingly pathetic. How
could he ever, even insensibly, have connected her
with guile or chicanery. Why, she was the most
transparent child in all the world! And she cried
at the mention of Hartwell! Hollister loved her
for it.
He shrank from the compulsion of calling her
“Mrs.” He couldn't force himself to do it. He
dodged the prefix and said haltingly: “I’m awfully
sorry . . . only I didn't know it was like that.
I thought Kirby said . . . if I’ve made an ass


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 139
"Although I must say," she went on, "that I un-
derstood you were going west instead of south.
Something new, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid I'm getting out of my depth," said
Hollister. "I hadn't any intention of going west."
Miss Rex ford put on speed to pass a swaying
couple who had left their center of gravity behind
them in Manhattan.
"What is the use," she said, "of beating around
the bush? I mean—for you and me. I hoped I'd
have a chance to talk to you alone, because there's
heaps of things you don't appreciate yet. I can do
a lot for you, if you'll let me; and you can do a lot
for me—and it won't hurt either of us."
After a prolonged quiescence, during which he re-
joiced with exceeding thankfulness, Hollister said:
"I'm in deeper, Miss Rex ford. I'm over my head."
"Oh, don't!" she exclaimed impetuously. "I'm
not a schoolgirl—and I wasn't born in Hackensack,
either. Are you going to tell me that you're fol-
lowing Mrs. Cloud around because you're in love
with her?"
Hollister exclaimed aloud, and stopped in his
tracks. His expression was ludicrous; his attempt
at denial stuck in his throat and he yammered feebly.


140 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
The ambush—to mix metaphors thoroughly—was
on the other foot I
"Why, you—why—why, that's the most stagger-
ing-"
Miss Rexford laughed lightly.
"Let's keep on walking, shall we? You see, I
knew as soon as I saw you at the hotel that you'd be
pretty young. I've had a lot of fun studying you.
Why, I know what you're going to say almost be-
fore you do!"
"That's very—interesting," stammered Hollister.
He had recovered a large fraction of his poise, but
he was still vibrating from this most recent puzzle.
He hadn't dreamed that any one could possibly take
him for a traveling Lothario. "Well, what do you
think I'm going to say next?"
Miss Rexford looked at him under her lashes.
"It's about time," she judged, "for you to get in-
dignant—and injured."
"Well—I'm moderately indignant. And if you
want the prophecy fulfilled, I'll be injured."
She took his arm to save herself from a loss of
balance, and released it to save a loss of dignity.
"But I thought," she said, "that if we really
could understand each other, it might save a lot of
bickering. I'm willing to be just as outspoken as


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 141
you are. We might as well—everything's so plain
anyway."
"What's plain?"
Her smile wasn't nearly so conciliating.
"Well—if you keep on temporizing, I'll certainly
have to take it that you don't want to talk things
over."
"I can't talk about a truce when I haven't even
begun a war," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, I
want to be friendly to every one—especially you."
The final touch was an afterthought; but it had its
effect.
"Now I can begin to believe you. Tell me, did you
take this trip instead of going west this week?"
"As I've already told you, I never had any idea
of going west."
"You mean there wasn't enough in it for you?"
"If that's your interpretation, I won't dispute it."
Miss Rexford showed her commendation.
"Well, that's business. I can't criticize you for
that. But how did you know we were coming to
Bermuda? From Ned Ballin?"
"No. As a matter of fact, I didn't know you
were coming until I met Mr. Cloud on deck."
"Nonsense!"
"It happens to be the truth," he said rather coolly.


142 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Can you look me straight in the eyes and say
that?"
Hollister established the proof.
"I'm not in the habit of lying about inconsequen-
tial facts," he said.
Miss Rex ford sighed gently.
"Either you're a wonderful prevaricator or else
you're frightfully ingenuous," she said, tempering
the indictment with a gay little laugh. "Why did
you take this boat?"
"It was the first one I could get."
"Ned didn't tell you—or Mr. Kirby didn't—that
we'd taken passage on it?"
"No one told me."
"If I could possibly believe a word you're say-
ing—
"Come!" said Hollister, seizing his chance un-
erringly. "That ought not to be so hard! Why,
the White Queen trained herself to believe at least
one impossibility a day!—and I've believed much
more impossible things about you."
"You have!"
"Surely I have. For example, I've believed that
you know the son of a duke in disguise."
"What?"
"By all means the son of a duke. Lots of sons of


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 143
dukes make strange bets—support themselves for a
year or something of that sort. Read the maga-
zines, Miss Rexford. Because I can't imagine you
bowing to a waiter unless he was the son of a duke—
can you?"
Miss Rexford gave an involuntary little gasp.
"To—a waiter! Did you say a waiter?"
"I hope I did," said Hollister. "That was what
I tried to say."
"But—that's so utterly ridiculous—"
"So utterly ridiculous," said Hollister, "that it
made me quite capable of believing that anything
could happen. That's what I've been driving at. I
never did like that waiter. He has a nervous affec-
tion in his left eye. It opens and closes at queer
times. It got my goat. But of course, if his father,
the Duke of Diddlebock, disowned him, and he—"
Miss Rexford slowed to a halt, and Hollister
naturally stopped, too. They had been walking aft;
they paused in the shelter of a lifeboat and fought
out an optical battle of short duration.
"It only goes to show that we'd better understand
each other now," said Miss Rexford. "There's no
use flubbing around at cross purposes like this. Is
there?"
"No. I subscribe to that, all right."


144 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Then answer me two questions—"
"By all means!" he covenanted. "But let's clear
up one point at a time. You explain why you're on
winking terms with a hotel waiter, and then—"
Miss Rex ford was perplexed.
"Mr. Hollister, I'm not going to be angry at any-
thing you say. There's something back of it. I
know you wouldn't deliberately insult me. And it
may be that you feel the same way about me. If
that's so, we can be friends very soon. But don't
make it impossible for me to work with you—you've
asked something I can't answer. I can't do it, be-
cause there isn't any answer. I haven't done any-
thing as—as disgusting as you describe! It's absurd
on the face of it! And if you think—"
"You dispute it? When we breakfasted together,
and Mrs. Cloud and I were getting up, that man
didn't give you some sort of signal—and you didn't
return it?"
"No, I didn't I"
"I suppose you didn't advise the management that
you'd lost a ring, either?"
"Why, I—yes, I did. I lost one—I missed some
things—but the chambermaid found them."
"Oh, she did! How sure are you that the cham-
bermaid found them?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 145
"I'm sure that was what the manager told me.
My things came back through the office."
Hollister explored the recesses of his waistcoat
pocket.
"You didn't chance to lose a bar-pin, did you? A
little sapphire and pearl pin? I think it was one Mrs.
Cloud gave you the night I met you; and how was
it that you didn't report that loss to the office?"
"Why, I— How did you know—I lost it?"
"Because," said Hollister with alacrity, "it's my
very great privilege to return it to you with my com-
pliments—and no hope of a reward." He held out
the pin to her. She took it dazedly. "And although
nothing surprises you," he pursued, "you may like
to know where I found it—on the floor of my room
at the Aspinwall. So if you're anxious to hear me
answer your questions, suppose you answer mine
first. How did it get there?"
Miss Rexford's pupils were very large.
"Is that true? You found that pin—in your
room?"
"It is."
"Will you play fair?"
"That's what I'm trying to do."
She hesitated.
"Well—I don't know how it got there. That's


146 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
the honest truth! You see, it was either stolen, or
I lost it, that very morning. It has a bad clasp—
see? I put it on before breakfast, and then it was
gone. I don't understand how it could possibly have
got into your room. I don't understand it at all!"
Hollister grinned.
"Want to hear my theory?"
"Surely I do."
"All right—here goes! You know what a frame-
up is?"
"Why—yes, in a way."
"For some reason," said Hollister, "your friend
Mr. Hartwell doesn't like my style of beauty, and
for some reason he wanted to hinder me for a few
days. What he thinks I am, I don't know. But
when he couldn't hire me to get out of town, he
just naturally figured he'd keep me too busy ducking
to have time for anything else. So he tried to frame
me. He took his own bill-book, and some jewelry—
some of it he borrowed from you—and he had it
planted in my room, so when it was found, I'd look
like a cheap crook. And as nearly as I can make out,
your waiter with the bad eye was wig-wagging you
that the plant was made—and then you told Hart-
well, and he tipped off the management. The house
detectives raided my room, and there you are! For-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 147
tunately for me, the scheme didn't work. And even
more fortunately, your diamond ring is paste, or I
would have been in trouble. Now I don't expect you
to tell me all about it, but if you'll simply explain
why your friend Hartwell is on my trail, I may tell
you something."
Miss Rexford had lost a moiety of her color.
"You said—my ring is paste? And it was found
in your room, too?"
"It certainly is, and I can prove it."
"Now—listen!" implored Miss Rexford. "I
want to have all this smoothed over. From the veVy
beginning. So let's start there. On my word of
honor, I lost that pin and that ring the same morn-
ing. I telephoned down to the office about the ring.
The pin—well, that wasn't worth enough to com-
plain about, so I didn't. The ring came back—that
night—but the pin didn't. They told me a maid
found the ring and took it to the office. Now,
about Mr. Hartwell. I met him only three weeks
ago. I'm not a friend of his. I'm chaperoning
Mrs. Cloud, so of course I've seen something of
him. All I know about his private affairs is what
he's discussed in public. I haven't the slightest
knowledge of how those things got in your room,
and I'd swear to it on a stack of Bibles as high as the


148 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
Woolworth Building. Now for the waiter. As a
matter of fact, I'm a sort of secretary for Mrs.
Cloud, too. I pay small bills for her, and things like
that. He was simply thanking me for the tip I'd
given him, and i f I did anything back, it was nothing
but the thing anybody does after being thanked.
You incline your head. If he winked, I didn't see it.
That's absolutely all there is about it. Absolutely!"
"Then what did you mean," he asked quizzically,
"by saying that we've got to have an understand-
ing?"
"Merely that I'm Mrs. Cloud's companion, and
I'm looking out for her. That's what I'm paid for.
If you told me enough so that I felt safe, I wouldn't
put any obstacles in the way of your seeing her
sometimes. But one or two people who know how
you were living a week or two ago wondered why
you were suddenly interested in us. And I told you
perfectly frankly that I'd heard that you were hunt-
ing for an heiress. So if you did have any real
business connection, I wouldn't bother about you;
but if you didn't, I might have to protect Mrs. Cloud
and make sure that you couldn't see her alone.
That's all."
"How is it you happened to ask me if I was going
west—to Vancouver or Seattle?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 149
"I might just as well have said Denver or Spo-
kane. It was pure chance."
Hollister shook his head in doubt.
"It certainly is a coincidence."
She looked at him whimsically. A faint light
glowed in her eyes, and dulled.
"You—you talk as though you think I—I'm fib-
bing to you."
"I merely said it's a coincidence, Miss Rexford.
Another one is that half an hour ago Mrs. Cloud
told me what a fuss you made about losing a pin
she'd given you. Now you say it wasn't worth
mentioning. And the ring you did mention was
paste!"
Miss Rexford wilted.
"It's not the easiest thing in the world to—to have
to swallow anything like that."
Hollister saw that she was crying, and his first
sensation was of revulsion. The sunny morning
had already brought him one feminine shower, and
he wasn't particularly desirous of another. He
wondered dumbly if Mr. Cloud would also cry when
they met in the smoking-room.
"I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelings," he said
bluntly. "But you wanted to talk—so I talked."
Her shoulders were shaking dangerously.


ISO WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"If I only had one f-friend—I could talk to," she
sobbed. "Everybody else has—and I'm all alone—
and you th-think I've done something w-wicked—I
know you do—"
Hollister cleared his throat.
"I merely asked questions."
"B-but—how can I help it?"
Her hand was wording fitfully on the rail. Hol-
lister, wishing that he had the colossal impudence to
tell her to buck up and not act like a child, adopted
the traditional method of calming a girl in the first
stages of hysterics. He patted that hand, and said
incoherent phrases, each containing a request not
to mind anything. His index finger encountered
a high-set stone; and at the contact, Hollister was
alert and expectant. He bent lower, and drew in
his breath with a sharp intake. The solitaire Miss
Rexford was wearing wasn't the one Kirby had
tried against the glass of the manager's window.
The stone was larger, the setting was different.
"Gosh I" he whispered.
Miss Rexford sniffled feebly and gradually be-
came calm. Hollister ceased his massage and waited
patiently for the next step.
"There!" said Miss Rexford, dabbing at her
eyes with a handkerchief composed of five cents'


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 151
worth of linen and five dollars' worth of lace.
"Aren't we silly, though?"
Hollister grinned to find himself included in the
characterization.
"Oh, not so very," he decided.
"You know—I'm awfully upset about—every-
thing. You wouldn't believe half I could tell you—
and I've just been silly, that's all. Why, anybody
could tell from looking at you that you aren't horrid
—and I don't know why I've made such a fuss this
morning. Only I do have to look out for Mrs.
Cloud. Can't we forget this whole thing and start
in over again—to be friends?"
"That's what I want to do," said Hollister. "I've
assumed from the start that—that whoever stole
those things from you was hunting in my room
when he heard a noise, and lost his nerve and
skipped—dropping his plunder. I hadn't any right
to give you the third degree. But I did want to
know about Mr. Hartwell—"
"Let's not talk about him any more, please. I'm
tired. Let's walk."
Straightway he was conscious of a great change
in her manner toward him. At the outset of their
walk, she had been direct, outspoken, practical.
Now she had suddenly veered about; her attitude


152 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
was wholly feminine; and more than that, she as-
sumed in her next few remarks the air of a slightly
superior person in conversation with a young boy.
She washed her hands of the whole subject of their
earlier talk, and refused to protract it further. Hol-
lister was enlivened, and at the same time resentful
—and he judged shrewdly that she had attempted to
pump him, and, having failed, found little further
attraction in him. Also, she wasn't quick enough
on the trigger to extemporize; and when she was
cornered, she followed the line of least resistance,
wept, and changed the subject. But—wouldn't the
natural thing have been for her to leave him at his
first insinuation? How many other girls would
have remained after that one volley? Why had she
remained? That was what flabbergasted Hollister.
But she said she wanted to be friendly; and in a
few minutes the two were seated in adjoining
steamer chairs, talking more or less at random, and
disconnectedly. They were engaged in a discussion
of no moment, and Hollister was secretly bored,
when Mr. Cloud came unsteadily around the cabins
and tottered to anchor before them.
Mr. Cloud had got his sea-legs, and he was willing
to talk about them. Furthermore, he was willing to
smoke a cigar as a declaration of his independence


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 153
of Poseidon. He asked Miss Rexford if she were
opposed, and like the majority of men who propound
this query, he was completely taken aback when she
feared that temporarily she was. But she said sol-
emnly that she adored solitude, and she freely pre-
sented Hollister to Ballin's uncle, and told them to
go and smoke in the room consecrated to that par-
ticular habit. For herself, she would be quite happy
if provided with a tablet of paper and a stylus.
The smoking-room was close by. Hollister bor-
rowed a block of thin paper from the incumbent, and
gave Miss Rexford his own pencil. He arranged
her rug, hoped she was comfortable, won a smile of
thanks and joined Mr. Cloud, who was still boasting
loudly of his immunity.
It was perhaps three-quarters of an hour after-
ward that Hollister, having assisted Ballin's uncle
below and turned him over to the ship's doctor, went
to resume his tete-a-tete with Miss Rexford. She
wasn't where he had left her; she wasn't on deck.
The blanket was in her chair; the block of thin paper
and the hard drawing pencil were resting among the
upper folds. Hollister picked them up, and was
conscious that the top page of the tablet bore deep
indentations, caused by the necessarily firm pressure
of the lead to counteract the motion of the boat.


154 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
It would never have occurred to him to examine
this ghostly writing if he hadn't caught sight of his
own name. Even then, he wouldn't have gone fur-
ther if he hadn't inadvertently spied what was set
down just after his own name. And the opening
words of the fortuitous duplicate were what de-
cided him. He sat down, made sure that he was un-
observed, and proceeded to concentrate upon the
colorless graving on the soft paper.
"Dear Mr. Hartwell:
"As I notified you by wireless, Mr. Hollister is on
board. He was on the passenger list under an as-
sumed name. I had a talk with him this morning,
but nothing came of it.
"Mr. Hollister is a very susceptible boy, but I'm
afraid he knows too much.
"He gave me this morning a pin of mine he found
on the floor of his room at the hotel, and told me a
long rigmarole about a plant in his room. I wish
you'd told me if there was anything doing. It might
have spoiled everything, because I had to think too
fast to be consistent. I hope you'll come down as
soon as you can. Mrs. C. is refractory. The next
two weeks are critical. Keep B. and K. off if you
possibly can. I'll go ahead with H. and find out
all he knows, even if I have to"
Hollister turned the page, and of course found
nothing. He tore off the top sheet, which evidently
was all that Miss Rexford had written, folded it


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 155
carefully, and put it in his pocket. Footfalls on the
deck startled him. He glanced up, and saw that
Miss Rexford and Ballin's cousin had come noise-
lessly upon him and were standing a dozen feet
away, looking down at him. Ballin's cousin was
utterly sweet and unsuspicious. But Miss Rexford's
smile, as she followed the course of the folded page
to Hollister's pocket, was deprecating and faintly
ironical.


XIII
URING the remainder of the passage, Hol-
lister thoroughly realized how accurately
Miss Rexford had spoken when she claimed the
ability to help or to hinder him. Not once, from
the moment she gave him that ironical smile, could
he have so much as a single phrase alone with Bal-
lin's cousin. Miss Rexford, always unobtrusive,
was ubiquitous; and her solicitude for Mrs. Cloud's
health, her content, her enjoyment of the trip, was
so great that she hovered constantly about her
charge, not always monopolizing her attention, but
invariably on the qui vive for any other attempt at
monopoly. She managed herself so skilfully that
Hollister couldn't detach Ballin's cousin without
making himself either presumptuous or rude; and
his boyishly clumsy efforts to gain his purpose by
adroitness were met by Miss Rexford's steady re-
sistance, and her repeated triumph. After the
twentieth of these efforts, he retreated in chagrin,
and not until the morning of the last day did he
156


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 157
again approach the two prettiest girls on the De-
vonian.
He had come on deck after breakfast to find the
steamer plowing through a sea of marvelous azure,
under a sky impossibly blue. The air was warm,
yet not enervating; the southerly breeze was strong,
yet not boisterous. Hollister inhaled joyously, and
his spirits rose with a bound; the whole atmosphere
of the ship was more cheerful, more informal, more
exuberant. A little current of excitement was blow-
ing from stem to stern; there was more laughter
in one breath than he had heard for the past two
days. The costumes of the women were many
shades lighter, more picturesque; here and there
a rash voyager had donned flannels or doeskin.
Hollister was astonished to perceive that the prom-
enade deck was almost crowded; he hadn't imagined
that so many poor sailors had remained below dur-
ing the crossing of the Gulf Stream. Now, they
hung over the rail in swarms, exclaiming at the
beauty of sea and sky, at the darting schools of fly-
ing fish, at the drifting masses of weed and sponge.
And far up in the bows, Ballin's uncle, and his
cousin, and Miss Edith Rexford, were happily
squabbling for the important distinction of having
first sighted the sloop-rigged pilot-boat which had


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 159
That's what makes Bermuda so safe. It's safer
than Gibraltar. There's only one channel, and no-
body but a native can steer it. It's twenty miles
long. We go all the way around the islands before
we get to harbor."
Still Hollister stared, entranced. Ballin's uncle,
having found a listener, lectured intermittently.
"Sea Venture Flat to starboard; . . . over
on the left is Fort St. Catherine. Now we turn
southwest and follow the coast. Over there—look!
—that's typical!"
Beyond a dull mass of volcanic rock, a hill sloped
back from the sea—a hill of the gray-green of ce-
dars. Through the film of branches, Hollister could
see an occasional house, dazzlingly white in the sun-
shine; and against that expanse of white, a chaotic
burst of color, the pink and red of oleander, the
crimson of mimosa, the scarlet of hibiscus. He
drew a long breath and stared endlessly, and thought
of Paradise.
At his side Ballin's cousin said softly: "This al-
ways makes me feel as though I ought to forgive
everybody—and get ready to be an angel. Doesn't
it you?"
Hollister nodded.
"It's like nothing I've ever seen. I didn't know.


160 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
there'd be such amazing contrasts. Why, the Med-
iterranean isn't in it!”
“It's all light and shade,” stated Mr. Cloud, anx-
ious to retain his post of authority. “All the houses
are native limestone—coral. They quarry it out
with bandsaws. Some of it looks Greek, doesn't it?”
Hollister selected a jutting headland, crowned
with a thousand tints of green.
“If they built a little Ionic temple—or just a single
column up there,” he said, “it would be Greek! But
it's Madeira, too, and Honolulu, and Morocco, and
southern Italy—only it's better than all of them put
together. What a sea!”
“Grassy Bay!” announced Mr. Cloud. “And the
government dockyards—the English government,
of course. It's their Atlantic coaling station. Quite
a fleet, isn't it? There's a prize ship or two there,
I imagine—here comes the quarantine officer!”
From Grassy Bay he continued to lecture until
the gangplank was made fast; and Hollister, after
the Devonian had felt her way through Two Rock
Channel and warped painfully in to the dock, sud-
denly recollected that for hours he had stood close
to Ballin's cousin without addressing to her one
sentence irrelevant to the islands of Bermuda. In-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 161
stinctively he essayed to vindicate himself. Ballin's
cousin, however, was in perfect accord.
“I’m so glad you like it, too,” she told him.
“Every time I come down here I feel the same way
at first—I want to keep quiet and absorb it. It isn't
time to chatter yet—this isn't Coney Island. I'm
glad I've found somebody who enjoys it exactly as
I do.” -
In this statement there was an implied promise for
the future which Hollister would have received more
joyfully if he hadn't caught Miss Rexford's iron-
ical smile as she turned to go below.
Under the dilapidated customs shed he was offi-
cially found innocent of attempting to smuggle
wines, liquors, tobacco, playing cards; and thus ab-
solved, he delivered his credentials to an obsequious
porter of the Hotel Hamilton, and cast about for
Mr. Cloud's party. They were nowhere visible.
Hollister learned that the hotel was but five minutes
distant, and on the spur of the moment, while he
was quite unimpeded he made inquiry for the cable
office.
Front Street, a thoroughfare of immaculate
whiteness, lay gleaming before him in the sun. Hol-
lister threaded his way through a maze of victorias


162 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
and drays, and emerged into a throng of men and
women dressed as for Calcutta. Charmed and ani-
mated by this exotic land not nearly so far from
New York as is Chicago, he strolled past Darrell's,
where Havana perfectos cost sixpence, at the cor-
ner of Queen Street, and so to the headquarters of
the cable company. He said to the clerk, who was
occupied with two or three outgoing messages: "I'm
Philip Hollister—anything here for me?"
The man assented pertly.
"Were you expecting funds?"
"Yes—from New York. Identification waived."
"For how much?"
"About two hundred dollars."
"Identification waived," verified the clerk, pen-
ciling a memorandum. "Yes—we were advised yes-
terday. I'll give you a draft directly—you can cash
it at the Bank of Bermuda."
"Thank you," said Hollister.
"One moment, please." He took the last of the
outgoing cable forms from the counter. ."Just as
soon as I've filed this. One moment—" He read
unconsciously aloud, checking off the words. "Hart-
well, New York—Imperative come complications—
Rexford." He slashed a pencil mark diagonally


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 163
across the form, and empaled it on a file. "Now,
sir—I'll make out your draft."
Hollister whistled. Miss Rex ford had lost no
time in summoning the man she scarcely knew! Com-
plications! What complications? Was it possible
that he himself had brought about complications
enough to justify a cablegram to Hartwell bearing
an imperative summons? Was his petty wrangle
with Miss Rexford of such vital import?
"Tommyrot!" said Hollister to himself. "Maybe
she thinks I'm trying to kidnap the girl!"
He stuffed away the draft, and went slowly down
the tropic length of Front Street to the tiny Bank
of Bermuda.


XIV
“I” so glad I’ve found somebody who enjoys it
exactly as I do,” said Ballin's cousin, with en-
thusiasm.
Hollister regarded her with profound admira-
tion. She was in white linen, with white shoes and
a white felt hat set off with a black-and-white silk
band; she looked hardly more than seventeen; and
she had taken upon herself an air of freedom and
buoyancy which quite astounded him. Until to-
day he had thought of her as a wholly desirable
young women, to be adored certainly, but perhaps a
trifle too repressed and ultra-conventional to be a
thorough playmate; but the change of sky seemed
also to have changed her temperament. She was
suddenly seventeen, impulsive, inspirational, elec-
trically alive. He looked at her, and felt his heart
flutter a little; and remembered that she was a
widow—which piqued him tremendously—and
wished that he had been born sooner, and richer.
“It takes hold of me,” he responded. “Here I’ve
known Bermuda for only a day and a half, and it's
164


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 165
got me already. I can't get enough of it—I could
stay right in this spot for a solid week, just for that
one island across there—and I don't know whether
it's an aquarium or the Sea Gardens—and I wouldn't
have enough of it then. And there must be a mil-
lion places—" . j
"There are! I've been here three times, and I've
only scratched the surface. Some day I'll have to
take you to my own pet spots—Pink Beach, and the
South Shore. Honestly, after I've gone away from
them, I'm like the farmer who saw the rhinoceros—
I don't believe there are such things!"
She smiled down at Hollister, who was reclining
on the grass at her feet. She herself was seated
on a wall of pure limestone, overlooking the Great
Harbor and the shimmering, gem-like Isle of White
set in the deep blue water. Behind them a semicir-
cle of sage palms, flanked by Spanish bayonet,
screened them from the roadway; directly before
them, a lawn ran down to the lapping waves—a
lawn of natural growth, with color picked out here
and there by bell-like convolvulus and passion-
flowers, and frangipani, and rose geraniums.
"I almost know I'm dreaming—or dead," said
Hollister. "My sense of color has gone numb.
Why—it jumps out and assaults you! It bats you


166 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
*
over the head! Anywhere—anything—" He
drove his thumb-nail into a leaf of the Spanish
bayonet, and a purple liquid of incredible brilliance
and depth followed the cut. "There! You never
in your life saw a more wonderful purple than that!
Well—that's what keeps me dazzled all the time.
It isn't simply color on the outside—it's color un-
derneath!"
"And that's the reason," said Ballin's cousin, "why
some people are unhappy down here. They can't
stand the comparison, and they feel it, and dislike
it. The light's too brilliant, and the shade too dark.
Now my brother-in-law—"
Hollister had to grin at the mental picture. That
morning he had observed Mr. Cloud, in cork helmet
and doeskin, striding in austere solemnity through
the tropical plaza—and Mr. Cloud had looked like
a shy and retiring child pretending that he was Du
Chaillu. Ballin's cousin, on the contrary, was a
part of the scenery. She adorned it; she supple-
mented it. She wore Bermuda like a gorgeous
cloak, fitted to her complexion and her grace. She
reminded Hollister simultaneously of the native lily,
and the native hibiscus, and a number of other fanci-
ful and decorative flowers. He rather wished he
could tell her about this; he thought that without se-



She smiled down on Hollister





WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 167
riously inconveniencing himself, he could probably
write free verse about it.
"You've been here three times? Then I do envy
you. How did you happen to come in the first place?"
"It was on our honeymoon," said Mrs. Cloud.
Hollister glanced up quickly.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" To his relief, he perceived
that her eyes were quite clear and untroubled; in-
deed, her mien was reminiscent of no shattered sen-
timent, of no gnawing regret. "I didn't intend to
—to—"
"Very likely Ned told you," she said calmly, "that
we were always unhappy. It's generally known now.
I don't see any use in being foolish about it. We
spent five weeks—and those were the only fairly
pleasant ones I had—and even then I had to find
my pleasure alone. He loathed Bermuda. There
isn't anything for you to feel sorry about."
"That's good," said Hollister. "I didn't know,
of course—" He waveredj and then said awk-
wardly: "It's the most incomprehensible thing to
me—it's bothered me ever since the night Pete
Kirby brought me in to meet you—but I can't realize
you've been married! It doesn't seem possible! You
don't talk like a married woman—you haven't a
married woman's point of view! I can't make my-


168 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
self call you by your real name. I—” He was hor-
rified at the interpretation she might put upon this
last statement. . “I’m not being forward—I mean—”
“I know. I've noticed you never use my name.
And—well, I don't feel as though I’ve been married.
I suppose Ned's told you something—”
“Not Ned—but Pete did.”
“Well, he knows as much as Ned does. You
see—it was hasty, and—and thoughtless. Mr.
Cloud wasn't very well, and he was lonely, and
his money wasn't doing him any good—and I was
young and lonely, and restless—and it was just like
that!” She snapped her fingers, to indicate speed.
“Sometimes I'm honestly thankful that it came out
this way—he doesn't suffer any more, and I don't
annoy him. If he'd lived, I’d always have annoyed
him, and I’d have been more and more lonely.”
“You would!”
“Oh, yes. We never were congenial. He hated
spontaneity. He hated life—I mean active life. He
wanted to glue himself to one place, and stay there
forever. He didn't like people. He wanted abso-
lute, dead placidity—to study, and read, and play
Canfield. And after the first few days I know I an-
noyed him—he told me so—and I used to leave him
at the hotel with his books, and wander around by


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 169
myself. I don't think he knew that there was any
color here. And—when a man on his honeymoon
wants to be left alone all day to read—I'm not heart-
less, really—but perhaps it is better this way."
Hollister pulled grass out by the roots in hand-
fuls.
"Is Mr. Cloud—I mean your brother-in-law—
much like your—your husband?"
"Y-e-e-s—a little bit. He has a better sense of
humor, though."
"Better!"
"His brother hadn't any," said Ballin's cousin.
"And it may only be because it was my own dis-
appointment, but—anyway, I think that's one thing
that's enough to wreck almost any marriage."
"I should say so!"
Ballin's cousin gazed out over the harbor.
"How much trouble it would save—if people only
used it!"
"What's that?"
"A sense of humor."
"Oh! Yes—certainly."
"I think that's the real reason I took Miss Rex-
ford with me—on account of that."
"Oh!" said Hollister. "She is a good deal of a
joker, isn't she?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 171
it's not the most diplomatic thing in the world for
me to tell you so—but I want to have it all straight.
You've done something to startle her. So what is
it? Can you tell me?"
Hollister studied the tips of her white shoes. He
was morally convinced that it was Miss Rexford
who wasn't quite trustworthy, at least in so far as
Ballin's cousin was concerned. He was confident
that Miss Rexford was filling a double role, and
that her duties as companion were of more or less
extrinsic worth. He comprehended fully the fact
that Miss Rexford was opposed to him on several
counts. But could he conceivably tell Ballin's cousin
one-half of what he knew about her, or one-tenth
of what he suspected?
"First," he said, "I wonder if you'd tell me how
long you've known Miss Rexford?"
"Why not? About six weeks."
"And how did you meet her?"
"Why, Ned and Mr. Hartwell and my brother-
in-law all thought I ought to have a companion. I
think we sent to three different agencies, and we ad-
vertised, too. And Edith was the most perfect of
all the girls who applied."
"And—I hope you'll pardon me—but did she have
any references?"


172 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"They couldn't have been lovelier. The very
finest sort of letters—two or three of them—one
from Boston, and one from Buffalo and one from
Cleveland."
"What I'm getting at," said Hollister, "is how
much you rely on her—how much you value
her judgment."
"That's the worst of it—until a day or so ago I'd
have taken her judgment about o«ything."
"And then?"
"And then," said Ballin's cousin, "she began to
warn me about you. Are you horrid?"
Hollister, after an instant's paralyzed silence,
burst out laughing, and Ballin's cousin finally joined
with him. The suspense, built upon such a fragile
foundation, collapsed utterly; the two were at ease
again.
"/ don't think so," said Hollister artlessly. "As
a matter of fact, my real opinion of me is that I'm
pretty decent. And I'm sure I don't know why Miss
Rexford wants you to dodge me all the time."
"But she does—she did on the Devonian, and she
has here. And she tells me things—"
"What things?"
"Well—do you really want me to be specific?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 173
*
"Please."
"She—you remember once we found you in a
steamer chair, and you were tearing a page off a
pad of paper? She said that was the impression of
a letter she'd written. She'd finished only the first
page of it, and started out to get me to take some
exercise—and—then—"
"Suppose I did tear off a page," said Hollister
promptly. "Now it so happened that it was my pad
—and my pencil. It was soft paper and a hard pen-
cil, so naturally there would have been an impression
on the under sheet. But—did either of you see
what was on the sheet I tore off?"
"Why—no."
He was so sure that she was innocent of Miss
Rexford's4haracter, and so sure that this was no
meet occasion for him to file a presentment, that he
took refuge in finesse.
"Isn't it possible that instead of an impression,
there were black pencil marks on it? Can't you ad-
mit that I might not have noticed any impression—
and written a letter myself over it—and put that in
my pocket when I saw you?" He waited desperately.
"As a usual thing," he said, "if I'm sitting down
writing, and some people I'd like to go with come


174 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
along, I quit work—and if I'm where I can't put my
letter out of the public eye any other way, I gen-
erally put it in my pocket."
Ballin's cousin sat with her hands idle in her lap.
"That's just what I told her—and then she said—
oh, it's foolish! I know it is! But I want to hear
you deny it—she said you're a fortune hunter! She
said you weren't the sort of correspondent such as
you told us about—she said you were poor—and
somehow you'd scraped up some money, and come
to live at the Aspinwall so as to—to have a better
chance to find a—a girl with a lot of money—and
you—you followed us down here—" By this time
her face was burning; and Hollister's no less. "So
I wish you'd—tell me yourself—"
Hollister scrambled to his feet,, and stood before
her.
"Mrs. Cloud—I can't begin to tell you how—why,
that's—that's the most damnable—I beg your par-
don a thousand times, but—"
"It was a good healthy one," she reassured him.
"I never knew you were on the Devonian until I
saw Mr. Cloud! I thought you were going to Palm
Beach! And when I saw you—"
"But why did you book your passage under an
assumed name?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 175
•
Hollister's hair stood on end, and his tongue stuck
to his jaws.
"You see—" went on Ballin's cousin, "she said—
it was so that we wouldn't know—because she sus-
pected you anyway, and if your name had been on
the list she'd have done something—I don't know
what; told Mr. Hartwell probably—to deter you.
As it was, it was too late to do anything—when we
did know you were on board."
Hollister exhaled prodigiously.
"But—I am a correspondent."
"Truly?"
"Truly. It's a commercial job, and I had it be-
fore I met you, and before I knew you existed. And
I came to Bermuda on my regular work. And I
booked passage under a false name because—from
what I once told you, you might have guessed this
—the sort of work I'm doing is more or less confi-
dential. And / might have been chased down here
by somebody else. It just happened to be important
that nobody got ahead of me. There's the facts!"
She was obviously satisfied, but there remained
one detail of Miss Rexford's indictment.
"It isn't true, then, that only a few days before
I did meet you, you were—you didn't have a posi-
tion?"


176 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"That's true enough. What difference does it
make?"
"None I" said Ballin's cousin. She gave him her
hand; he was inspirited by the touch of it. "I knew
Edith was wrong—but you can't blame her I Why,
all she's supposed to do is to chaperon me! Only
—I'm glad you told me everything—and I hope you
aren't hating me for it!"
"Hating you!" said Hollister, with dangerous
emphasis. The girl blushed, and slipped down from
the limestone wall.
"I'm afraid we ought to go back, Mr. Hollister—
aren't you?"
"'Afraid' is precisely the word. But must we?"
"I'm sure of it."
"And do you think Miss Rexford was right—or
do we go back as friends?"
"As friends, of course, Mr. Hollister."
"Really friends, or—"
"Why—I think so."
"I've said already that I'm not trying to be
funny," said Hollister shortly. "But—hang it—
when I can call you something else besides Mrs.—
won't you please tell me? I won't mention it again
—ever—but when you think we're really friends—"
"When we're at that stage," said Ballin's cousin,


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 177
with dancing eyes, "I'll promise to tell you. I'll
promise to let you know. Only—not quite yet."
Hollister helped her carefully through the trees
to the highway.
"Where are we?" he inquired, in a voice which
was freighted with some stronger emotion than a
scholar's love for geography.
"Now? This is still Pembroke Parish. This par-
ticular part of it is Fairyland."
"Fairyland!" said Hollister. "Well—" He looked
sidewise at Ballin's cousin. "Well, / knew it," said
Hollister deliberately.


XV
T the Hamilton there was a letter for him; he
j[ \_had no sooner beheld the typed superscription
than he knew he was in possession of the instructions
he had awaited so long and so hopefully. In the
safety of his own room he ripped the flap of the
envelope, and drew out a sheet bearing the charac-
teristic water-mark which identified it as a bona fide
communication from Joshua W. Brown. There
were only a few lines; they were as compact and
economically worded as though the lawyer had said
them aloud, instead of entrusting them to the mercy
of the mail.
"My client desires not later than one week from
your receipt of this missive a complete diary of your
acts, reactions, experiences and deductions, with an
analysis of all persons with whom you have come in
more than casual contact, and of their various mo-
tives and characters. Forward this by registered
mail to Sarah Vose, 160 Broadway. Until further
notice, continue as a guest at the Hamilton."
Hollister read the lines twice, and when he had
memorized the governing items, he touched a match

178


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 179
to the sheet, and watched it burn in the grate. After
that he grinned boyishly at the mumbo-jumbo of it.
There was now little doubt in his mind that he was
inextricably tangled in the affairs of his friends, and
their satellites; his chief concern was to know what
he would be called upon to do. As yet he hadn't the
slightest inkling of his real task; he didn't know
who was responsible for his engagement, or who was
the proper subject for his investigation. It was
credible that he was supposed to observe the entire
party in the interests of a separate person, a stranger
to him. But as for any genuine labor in the col-
lection of statistics—Hollister laughed immod-
erately!—the idea was preposterous! It was clear
that the contract was for the sole purpose of hood-
winking him! No one could so easily have stepped
into such a domestic hunting-net, and become so
thoroughly enmeshed, if he hadn't been carefully
guided.
His own participation in it was a matter of con-
jecture. Hollister grew more serious as he con-
sidered the possibilities. He told himself that had
he once imagined the nature of the task, he wouldn't
have considered it for ten seconds. He was no so-
ciety detective; he didn't care for that sort of status.
Suppose, for example, that he was expected to spy


180 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
on Ballin's cousin—he was appalled, and dismissed
the thought as best he could. And yet why not?
If his immediate destiny lay within the group which
had sat about one table at the Aspinwall, it must in-
evitably be bound up with either present allies or
present enemies. What other alternatives were
there?
He smoked a cigarette or two, and vigilantly went
over the basic facts. Hartwell and Miss Rexford
distrusted him, or feared him, or both. Why? Mr.
Cloud was neutral—he had been born to chronic
neutrality; so that in him this dormant quality
lacked pith. Ned Ballin and Kirby and Ballin's
cousin liked Hollister and believed in him. That
was apparently the result of natural causes. But
Hartwell wanted to marry Ballin's cousin, and she
didn't agree with him; and Kirby and Ned were
afraid of Hartwell. Why? There could be no ques-
tion of physical fear; there could be no question of
fear of the law. What other sources of fear are
there?
"Money!" said Hollister half-aloud. "I wonder
if it's money I I wonder if he's got a strangle-hold
on 'em!"
Even if it were a matter of money, he couldn't
surmise where he fitted into the general scheme.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 181
There was nothing about Mrs. Cloud which her
brother-in-law, and Ned and Kirby also, and, to
some extent, Miss Rexford, didn't already know.
No one of the others could be a mystery to all the
others. Their inter-relations were too tightly
drawn. In any event, Hollister's connection with
all this hodge-podge was distasteful to him; and as
he smoked his final cigarette he promised himself
that he'd wait one more week—wait until his report
was due, and by that time he should assuredly be
able to diagnose the various complications, and
formulate his definite conclusions. If he chose, he
could probably find a sufficient reason for breaking
his contract. Meanwhile, there was Bermuda to en-
joy—and there was also Ballin's cousin.
Nevertheless, as he dressed for dinner, he wasn't
especially happy. He was vaguely ashamed of him-
self for having started out upon a blind undertaking;
he felt like a trout that has risen too promptly to
the worm of adventure, and found the hidden barb.
All that formality of Joshua Brown deceived him;
for as Miss Rexford had written in her steamer
letter, he was very susceptible. Diplomacy and tact
—bah! He broke his collar-button, and found sur-
cease in the richness and beauty of his own vo-
cabulary.


182 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
He dined, as he had agreed to do, at the Clouds'
table. It wasn't a joyous meal, for all four of the
quartet were preoccupied. Hollister had strung his
hope upon a moonlight stroll with Ballin's cousin,
but when, as coffee was served, he made the pro-
posal to her, she pleaded a headache.
“Ask Edith,” she said in an undertone. “I haven’t
told her about this afternoon—I don't intend to-
I want her to change her mind all by herself. Take
her out and talk to her—it’ll do you both good.”
Not with the best of grace, he did ask her; and
to his consequent sorrow, she accepted at once.
Within the quarter-hour, then, they had sauntered
down the slope of Queen Street, and headed toward
Spanish Point. A half-mile from the center of town,
the houses ceased to embrace, and the road ran hard
and smooth between rows of fern-like trees, and
sweet-smelling hedges. It wasn't dark—merely dim
—but Miss Rexford put her hand on Hollister's arm
with the reluctance of a timid maiden in Stygian
blackness. The act pleased him; he deduced from
it that no matter what else the girl might be, she
was human. Moreover, he wasn't too adamant to
recognize that whether she liked him or not, whether
she misjudged him or not, whether she suspected
him or not, she was a very fragrant and


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 183
a very attractive personality, especially on a
dusky road in Bermuda. The moonlight, sifting
through the treetops, gave him an occasional glimpse
of her face; he adjured himself not to deny that he
had always conceded that she had real beauty. Her
face was nearly a perfect oval; her features were
daintily made, and y,et not babyish; she had life
and fire, without which no beauty can be truly su-
perlative; and she was no dumpling, nor yet a lath
—she was all curves, but they were curves of esthetic
strength, not of soft weakness. As she walked be-
side him, her hand resting on his arm, he wished
devoutly that he didn't know so well that he couldn't
trust her.
"What a view!" said Miss Rexford, easing to a
standstill. "Did you ever see anything to equal
that?"
Hollister noted that they had come within a stone's
throw of the wall where he had sat that same after-
noon with Ballin's cousin.
"Wonderful I" he said absently.
"Pure silver I Do let's stop a moment—"
"There's a wall yonder," said Hollister. "If you
prefer to sit down—"
"Oh, let's!" she exclaimed eagerly.
When he led her to the point of vantage, she ex-


184 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
claimed again; partly at the view, and partly at the
idyllic quiet and seclusion.
"I thought this would be great in the moonlight,"
said Hollister.
"Oh! You've been here before?"
"With Mrs. Cloud. To-day."
"Oh!" said Miss Rexford. Her tone had lost
some of its verve. She looked at Hollister, and
laughed gently. "I'm so silly," she said. "Do you
know—it really made me peevish to think this isn't
a discovery!"
Hollister's eyebrows lifted.
"You startle me—as usual."
"Do I? How?"
"On the sentimental side—this time."
Miss Rexford tapped her heel thoughtfully against
the wall. Hollister revised his earlier estimates;
she was beautiful plus!
"Because—well, what is the because—this time?"
In his reply, Hollister was unhurried. He wished
his muscular control to be very apparent. Once
more Miss Rexford's air toward him had undergone
a metamorphosis which wasn't at all subtle. It was
abrupt and striking. It transmitted itself to his
nervous system, and made him a trifle uneasy, but


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 185
the uneasiness was tinctured with a trace of self-
satisfaction.
"Generally," he said, "I think of you as very
practical."
"That's funny! So you think I haven't any emo-
tions?"
"Not that exactly. Lots of practical people have
emotions—but they're in leash most of the time."
"And as a plain matter of fact," said Miss Rex-
ford, locating the moon and watching it dreamily,
"I'm probably the most emotional person you've
ever known."
"I'm not an infant, Miss Rexford."
"That's your way of saying that you don't believe
me?"
"No—only my way of saying that I've seen a
great many people."
"Curious!" she commented, inclining ever so
slightly toward him.
"What is? That I'm so ancient?"
"No—that you're so near-sighted."
"And yet," said Hollister, "I've been sharp enough
to observe some very trivial things—haven't I?"
Miss Rexford shook her shoulders impatiently.
"Mr. Hollister—if you were really so clever, don't


186 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
you think you'd have guessed by now what's in my
mind?”
“I never claimed to be clairvoyant, Miss Rex-
ford.”
“Well—I've made a-mistake.”
Hollister was philosophical.
“We all do that.”
“We don't all admit it. But I do. You see—
I've thought that you weren't—nice. I told Mrs.
Cloud that. I thought you were fortune hunting.
I really did. And that's why I wrote Mr. Hartwell.
Only I still think it was rude of you to-to take that
pad. We saw you trying to read the impression.
But you must have thought horrid things about me,
or you wouldn't have done it. And I can explain—”
She looked away, and looked back at him. “If you
discovered anything that alarmed you, I can explain
it.” Hollister said nothing. “I’m telling you that
I made a mistake.”
“About me?”
“Yes. And I want to do whatever I can to make
up for it.”
“You’ve decided that I’m quite respectable?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Intuition a bit delayed—or facts?”
“Well—both.”


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 187
“I’m acquitted of everything, then?”
“Oh, surely! And—I'm sorry.”
“As a matter of fact, I haven't shown that letter—
ahem! When did you have this change of heart, Miss
Rexford?”
Her alertness was suddenly doubled.
“Why, I don't know—”
“Oh, not in hours and minutes—was it before or
after you cabled Hartwell to hurry down here?”
If he had expected her to show dismay, he was
baffled. She merely gave him that faintly ironical
smile of hers, and said promptly: “Afterward. But
—you are a little bright-eyes, aren't you?”
“That's what they pay me for.”
Miss Rexford laced and unlaced her fingers. She
had pretty hands; the movement wasn't unattractive.
“I’ve made several bad mistakes—isn't it some-
thing for me to confess to you?”
“I appreciate it,” said Hollister. “It's mighty fine
of you.” To himself he added: “And mighty
queer.”
Miss Rexford resumed her scrutiny of the unre-
sponsive moon. Hollister, leaning against the wall,
resumed his scrutiny of Miss Rexford.
“I don't know why I should expect you to under-
stand,” she said at length, “One always does ex-


188 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
pect it—but nobody ever understands. It's so hope-
less—"
"I shouldn't say that—"
"But then it's because you haven't the courage to
say it! It's a fearful truth. I've done something
that was very hard to do—and you take it as frig-
idly as though I'd only told you that it's cooler out
here than I thought it was." Under her lashes she
gave him a gentle stimulus. "I thought you'd ad-
mit something. It was a—sort of trade last."
"Haven't I been demonstrative enough? I can
soon mend that deficiency." He met her eyes
squarely. "I think it was corking of you—corking!
I don't know any other woman I've ever met who'd
have said what you have—so frankly—and so un-
necessarily. I admire you for it."
"Thank you. That's much better. Won't you
sit down, Mr. Hollister?"
"I'm all right—"
"But you look as though you were on the point of
going somewhere! You don't look restful."
* Hollister laughed, and sat down beside her on the
limestone wall.
"Now are you convinced that I won't maroon
you?"
"Perhaps." Miss Rexford moved almost imper-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 189
ceptibly nearer to him, and almost imperceptibly
shivered.
"Are you chilly?" he asked solicitously. "Shall
we start back?"
"Oh, not yet! I'm just beginning to enjoy it. It's
wonderful, but it makes me a little—helpless. Does
it you?"
"Helpless!" said Hollister. "Far from it I"
"Somehow the vastness of it—the infinity of it,"
said Miss Rexford earnestly, "takes my breath away.
I feel awfully insignificant, and—removed from all
the rest of the world. And—I suppose it's what you
meant—sentimental. Only not in the common way
—not feeble at all, not—" She stopped, and then
went on: "I like big things—great, big, im-
pressive things—that's why I love the out-of-doors
so much. I like big horses and big men and big
achievements—I hate little, sordid, trivial affairs
like my own life! Sometimes I wish I'd been an
elephant—or anything bigger than this miserable
little atom of an Edith Rexford! Think of it! Me
—and the distance to the moon up there! I could
go crazy with the thought of it! The bigness of
all that—compared with the littleness of all this!
And to go from this to something even littler—
routine, and letters, and shopping—it's sickening!"


190 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
She finished in a blaze of vehemence; and Hollister
could see that her chin was trembling. He was
sincerely affected by the manifestation of what she
had so recently confided to him.
"But the biggest things are all around us, aren't
they?" he said. "You can't imagine anything more
tremendously big than life itself, can you?"
"Mine isn't more than an insect's life," she said
bitterly. "Nothing signifies. Mrs. Cloud's life—
that's different. But—what is there for me?"
"What isn't there for you?"
Miss Rexford faced him; and he was again start-
led at her display of feeling.
"For me? Why, Mr. Hollister, what can there
be? Is there anything big and compelling about
poverty? Is there anything about dependency? Is
there anything about loneliness?"
"You shouldn't be lonely," he said sagely. "No
one as beautiful as you are could possibly be lonely.
If you are, it's because you haven't a mirror."
Miss Rexford turned to him slowly, as though
stunned by the point-blank compliment.
"You don't honestly think that, though," she said
in a low voice.
"But I do," he reiterated. "If you're lonely, it
must be your own fault. Because if you ever tried—"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 191
"Tried what?" she asked, when it was clear that
the sentence wasn't destined to advance further.
"I beg your pardon! I must have been wool-
gathering. What had I said?"
"If I ever tried—?"
"Oh! Why—if you ever tried, you could do any-
thing you want—have anything you want—be any-
thing you want."
"Do you honestly think that?"
Hollister looked down; and was uncomfortably
cognizant that Miss Rex ford was very close to him,
and that she was deeply agitated. She was breath-
ing rapidly, her lips were parted, and her eyes shone
with an eager light which wasn't wholly lost upon
him.
"Absolutely sure," he said. "You could do any-
thing—"
"And—have anything—"
"And be anything," he finished.
Miss Rexford sent out her hand to touch his,
which was resting dormant upon the wall.
"You give me courage," she said. "You see—
no one ever told me that before—I've thought ex-
actly the opposite—" She laughed suddenly, and
withdrew her hand. "Still," she said in an ordinary
voice, "I suppose you say the same thing to every


192 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
girl you've ever walked with in the moonlight.
They're stock phrases, aren't they?"
"Hardly!"
Her hand crept back, and came to harbor.
"I didn't mean to hurt you—I wanted to be sure
you were in earnest about it. You don't know what
my life has been; you don't know that I've never
lived like other girls—so—some very slight things
give me some very great joys—I want to bury your
words like hidden treasures—so that I can come
back to them, and dig them up, and gloat—when I
need to."
"Surely you won't try to persuade me," said Hol-
lister, not at all angered by the pressure of her cool
fingers, yet not at all secure of the standard of his
gratification, "that nobody ever told you you're beau-
tiful."
"No one ever told me in a spirit of—friendliness.
I've been told in—passion, and I've been told in—
jealousy. But—you're different!" Her clasp tight-
ened. "Oh, Mr. Hollister!" she said quickly. "If
I told you how much I'd give to have you for a
friend—you'd think I'm insane! I haven't a soul
in the world who takes me as an individual—to other
people I'm a companion; I'm almost a domestic serv-
ant; to you—"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 193
"Nonsense! You're educated, and—"
"That doesn't count! I'm poor—and that does!
To you I'm something mysterious and repulsive.
You've showed that! To-night you've helped me
and encouraged me—for a few little minutes—but
to-morrow it'll be over! You're a friend of Mrs.
Cloud's—and I'm her paid companion! And you've
read a letter of mine, and put a bad construction
on it—"
Hollister's hand strayed toward the pocket where
that incriminating document now reposed.
"I'm not altogether a hypocrite, Miss Rexford.
I'm not going to ignore you to-morrow."
"No, but you're not going to hunt me out, either!
I'm here now only as a substitute! You asked Mrs.
Cloud! You didn't ask me!" She released his hand
with a primary movement of propulsion; and with
her own she beat impotently upon the quarried lime-
stone. "Oh, if I could only have a bulwark—a
strong, strong friend to lean on—just one—a man
with the strength of the Rock of Gibraltar—who'd
know I'm not what you think I am—and instead of
that—" She choked, and halted.
In spite of himself, Hollister was touched. He
was also increasingly timorous. Miss Rexford, with
her magnetic personality and her surcharged voice,


194 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
seemed to have the faculty of playing upon his
nerves; his balance rocked on the verge of over-
throw.'
"If you need friends so badly," he ventured, "why
don't you look around you?"
"Around me? Haven't I?"
"Perhaps too far away."
She carried one hand to her breast in a pretty ges-
ture.
"And—by that remark—you mean—"
"I mean that a volunteer is ready."
"You?" she breathed.
"Even so," said Hollister.
Miss Rexford slipped to the ground, and went a
few steps down toward the sea. Her face was up-
turned to the tropic sky; her arms, held outward
and downward at her sides, her palms to the front,
her fingers separated and extended, gave her an air
of supplication, and of exaltation combined. Stand-
ing out against the lawn, and the silvered bay, she
was a cameo of wondrous purity and grace; Hollis-
ter, recalling his Greek, was even charmed by the
white fillet in her hair. Intent, speculative, he ad-
mired her, and waited.
Her arms dropped, but still she stood apart from
him, her face uplifted to the glory of the sky, and


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 195
Hollister, catching something of her mood, won-
dered if any grain of truth had lurked among her
uncovered emotions. He, too, set his feet on solid
earth, and went down to her.
Presently she turned, with incredible swiftness,
snatched one of his hands in both of hers, and held
it convulsively to her heart. Hollister, drawn
nearer to her, found her fathomless eyes searching
his; and his circumspection went below par.
"How can I thank you?" she said tremulously.
"What use are words—"
"I've done nothing but volunteer—"
"Yes—yes! But you've done more than I can
tell you—are you sure you meant it?"
"Positive!"
"That I can have what I want—"
"And do—and be. It's up to you, that's all."
"Because I'm so—please tell me again!"
"So very beautiful," said Hollister gravely.
What was her purpose?
Miss Rexford's breathing was rapid and tu-
multuous.
"If there is anything I can do—anything I can
give—to thank you for what you've given me to-
night—"
"Your simple thanks overpay me, Miss Rexford."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 1.97
in the pier glass formed silently the same word
thrice.
Hollister made a grimace of terrific repugnance.
“Well, damn it,” he said bitterly, “in a pinch like
that—what's a man going to do? Kiss her?—or
slap her wrist and tell her to keep quiet?”
The ghost of a smile hovered at the corners of his
mouth. He watched it in the mirror. He became
very, very serious. He was thinking how, out of
that lurid moment, Miss Rexford had so mar-
velously become self-possessed enough to ask again
if he had really read her steamer-letter. He sank
more luxuriously into the chair, and gave way to
introspection, and to a burning memory.
Two days later, Hollister, lounging on the dock,
saw on the boat deck of the incoming New York
steamship three men, two of whom waved excitedly
to him, and shouted joyously. The third was Hart-
well. Hollister had expected the lawyer, he hadn't
dreamed that Ned Ballin and Kirby would accom-
pany him; so that his pleasure in the reunion was
correspondingly great.
Long before the newcomers had passed customs,
Hollister's resolution was fixed. He had settled
once and for all the matter of his duty toward his
/


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 199
throat. It'll harm me a good deal, but that's imma-
terial. I won't go into details unless you see some
good in it. But I can't help putting real friendship
above things like temporary jobs—I'm afraid there's
something crooked going on around here. First—
do you mind telling me if Mrs. Cloud has much
money?"
Ballin and Kirby both nodded.
"And Hartwell's after it?"
"Y-e-e-s," said Ballin reluctantly. "He's after it"
"He's come a long way after it,"' said Kirby.
"Well, then—my flat statement is that this Miss
Rexford isn't straight. I know that! She's got
some game she's working. And this is my hunch—
and I can come pretty close to proving it, too—Miss
Rex ford's working for Hartwell. Underground—
tunnel stuff—I don't knoW why, or what for. She
may be trying simply to help his case, or to stave
off suitors—I don't know what. But I'll bet a thou-
sand dollars to a cracked spark-plug you'll find she's
Hartwell's private spotter! You'll find she's pretty
close to a professional! You'll find she's a sleuth-
hound! You'll find she reports to Hartwell! You'll
find she's hand in glove with some raw deal he's
working! That's what I want to tell you fellows,
and—" He broke off to look from one grinning


200 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
face to the other. "What in thunder is the matter?"
he demanded aggrievedly.
"Stale news," said Ballin shortly. "It's mighty
fine of you to tell us, old chap—but we knew all
that six weeks ago!"


XVI
A FTER an interim of solid silence, during which
i \ Hollister's respiration quickened, and his nos-
trils dilated, he said, in blank skepticism: "You
don't expect me to take that literally—do you?"
Ballin burst out laughing, and laughed immod-
erately.
"Phil, you look like a scared duck in a thunder-
storm! Come back to earth! Sure I mean it lit-
erally!"
"What he does mean," improved Kirby, polishing
his glasses, "is that we've hunched about all you've
told us, and more, too. And a fat lot of good it
does us."
Hollister looked painfully from one to the other.
"Well—I only thought—" His voice died away,
and was lost in a wordless murmur. Ballin made
haste to enlighten him further.
"It's mighty decent of you, old man—and don't
think I don't appreciate it. You're a real friend.
But, as Pete says, we've had rather more than an
201


202 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
inkling of all this. There isn't much doubt that
you're absolutely right. You're a good guesser."
"Well, then," said Hollister incisively, "the
sooner you get rid of Miss Rexford, the better it'll
be for everybody, won't it? It's out of my hands
now—the whole thing—it's up to you. You can do
exactly what you please, of course. But as a matter
of fact, if you hadn't happened to land here just
when you did, I'd have been so sore I'd have come
pretty close to telling Mrs. Cloud myself!"
The effect of this paternal statement was seismic.
Little Kirby, who had been teetering actively on the
hind legs of his chair, grabbed frantically at Ballin
to save his equilibrium; and Ballin, who had lolled
in calm indolence through the previous conversation,
straightened himself with such a spasmodic contrac-
tion of his muscles that Kirby was shaken off, and
left for an instant astride of vacancy while his chair
clattered to the floor. The faces of both were
stamped with deep consternation; Ballin was fairly
apoplectic.
"Phil! Phil!" he implored. "You liaven't told
her—have you? You haven't done that?"
Hollister, agape, shook his head.
"No, I haven't. I—"
"Oh, thank God!" said Kirby, collapsing with a


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 203
spurt of febrile laughter. “Ned—come to! Cheer
up! Phil says he hasn't spilled the beans yet!—
didn't you, Phil?” He was seized with a momentary
fit akin to ague. “Whew! Brace up, Ned' It's all
right so far, old dear!”
Ballin slowly relaxed, and began to breathe reg-
ularly. The new lines which had formed athwart
his mouth and eyes gradually merged and dissolved;
but the new contour which had come to his chin re-
mained unaltered.
“That's good,” he said, swallowing hard. “That's
fine! Phil—do try to remember!—have you said
anything to Frances about this? Anything at all?
The least intimation? Ever?”
Hollister's negative was colloquially emphatic.
“Gosh!” said Kirby, exhaling from the very bot-
tom of his lungs. “Then don't! Whew! That was
a narrow squeak!” He fanned himself, and righted
the fallen chair.
Ballin, less demonstrative, but more profoundly
moved, got to his feet, and went across to the win-
dow, where he stood in labored thought, scowling
down at the thoroughfare of Church Street. Kirby,
too, was all at once absorbed in reverie; and Hollis-
ter, whose curiosity had swollen equally with his
wonder, carried his eyes back and forth, and put


204 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
his hand to his head, and exonerated it from any
culpability. He couldn't blame it for swimming. It
had cause to swim.
"What in the mischief is the matter, Ned?" he de-
manded. "Pete, can't you loosen up? What is this
—a dynamite plot?"
"Just about," said Kirby. "And fifteenth century
Florentine vaudeville—with stilettos and meat-
axes."
"Don't say things like that, Pete! The truth's
plenty bad enough!"
"Understand me," said Hollister quickly. "I'm
not trying to jimmy my way into any secrets of you
fellows. I just gave you some information it seemed
to me you ought to have. If it's a chestnut to you,
let it go at that. And if you don't care to act on that
information, it's none of my business. I haven't'any
vested right to know any more than you want me to.
We can call this whole thing off, if that'll relieve
you any, and I'll be more of a clam than a clam is
himself!"
Ballin gesticulated impatiently.
"No—listen, Phil! I said we knew all about Miss
Rexford six weeks ago. That's an exaggeration.
But we've come to believe virtually what you do."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 205
"Then I shouldn't think it would take a wise
man very long to fire her—"
"On the contrary, it can't be done," disputed
Ballin. "At least, not now."
"Why not? Don't you admit she's a menace?"
"Because—hang it all, Phil, it can't be done!
And before we go a step further, I want you to
promise me faithfully that you'll never even hint to
Frances what you've told us. You've got to prom-
ise, Phil! It's the biggest thing you can do for us.
It's vital!"
Hollister, adrift on a sea of perplexity, said:
"Well—by all means, if that'll be any real advantage
to you—"
"It's the other way around," maintained Kirby,
coming to the rescue. "If you passed this dope
along to Frances, Phil, it would stir up more trouble
than you've ever dreamed of after a rarebit party.
And don't think for one holy minute that we're mag-
nifying—"
"You see," put in Ballin, "it isn't a question of
Frances getting any backfire from this. She won't
even be discommoded. Edith Rexford can't bother
her for ten seconds. I'll take my oath on that—"
"So will I," said Hollister warmly. "Up to a


206 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
certain limit I'll stay on the outside, but you fellows
have got to realize sooner or later that I'm—"
Ballin's anxiety was patent.
"Hold on a minute! Keep your shirt on, Phil!
Now Miss Rexford was hired as a companion, and
strictly as a companion, she's a corker. Frances
likes her. Nobody else could find fault with her.
She's always on the job, and she's earning her salary
and a little bit more. She's a good investment. So
Frances wouldn't sack her without a genuine rea-
son. To be sure, we've got one; but would she?
The only one we've got is the only one we can't use.
Swallow that whole, will you? It's unvarnished
fact—we can't use it. Now Pete Kirby's told you
how crazy Jim Hartwell is about Frances. He's a
downright nuisance. And when Jim makes up his
mind to do anything, he'll walk through hell-fire to
do it. He hasn't any more principles than a book-
agent. So it wouldn't be astonishing if he's en-
dowed Edith Rexford to boost his game, would it?
If he's paying her to keep tabs on the way the game's
going?"
"No, but—"
"Of course, it's a shyster trick," said Kirby; "but
that's Jim's style. He'd hire a detective to find out
how his own mother spent the egg-money. Now if


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 207
Frances got wind of any such stunt, she'd fire Miss
Rexford, wouldn't she? And she'd put it right up
to Jim, wouldn't she? And Jim would know where
it started, wouldn't he?"
"Oh, not necessarily. If you're uneasy about a
little trick like that, I could manage it—"
"Phil!" Ballin's earnestness was puissant. "If
this ever got over to Frances, she'd discharge Miss
Rexford in two shakes of a lamb's tail. She'd have
to! She wouldn't have any alternative. And no
matter what your analysis is, / say that Jim would be
wise. She'd go to him herself—she isn't afraid of
him! And that would raise double-distilled Hades!
I can't make that too definite. It would give Jim
Hart well a club that he could—"
"Be careful, old dear!" warned Kirby.
"I will! It would put Jim Hartwell where he
could hurt Frances more than ten regiments of
Rex fords ever can. That's gospel! He could pretty
nearly wreck her future for her—he could knock all
the happiness out of it anyway. You can believe
that a hundred per cent, net! So if it matters to yc
whether Frances is annoyed or not—or whether
are or not—salt this away in the back of your ht
Don't talk to her about what you know; don't
fr
to anybody! Don't knock either Edith or Jim!


208 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
it on ice! And don't go out of your way to be nasty
to Edith Rexford, either. Let things ride. You
don't need to play around with her a lot, but don't
snub her. Don't avoid her so much that it'll be
noticed. Be natural. You'll help pull us out of a
quicksand—you will, really."
"You see," reenforced Kirby, "Jim can make a
bale of trouble; and if he does, Ned and I simply
can't stand it. It'll paralyze us. So for a while
we've got to wear blinders. And Ned's said that
nothing Edith can do is going to bother Frances.
Sit tight, Phil. You'll just have to take us on
faith."
Hollister capitulated.
"Well, I don't pretend to understand this hulla-
baloo—and I'm not dead sure I want to. It's your
business. Well, that's all right. I was sort of ap-
prehensive—but I'll take your word for it. If this
Hartwell's likely to cause you fellows any serious
distress, and my keeping my mouth shut is going to
stave it off, and isn't going to damage anybody—
gQ; with you. But here's a point I don't quite get:
«;e engaged to Mrs. Cloud?"
"No—not officially," said Ballin. "But he's so
that to be that every now and then he thinks he
ho\ <y is."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 209
Hollister brightened.
"Look here! You don't suppose he's—"
"Yes."
Hollister frowned thoughtfully.
"It just occurred to me—did Pete describe our
little directors' meeting up at the Aspinwall?"
"He did—yes."
"You remember what you said about that imita-
tion diamond ring, don't you, Pete? Well, I know
that wasn't Miss Rexford's!"
"Do you, old top? I knew it myself. I knew it
that night. How'd you find it out?"
"On the boat. And while we're on the subject,
you don't imagine Hartwell tried to sandbag me be-
cause he thought I might be a sort of competitor
of his, do you?"
"It's possible," grudged Ballin.
"It's the only answer," said Kirby flatly. "But
he's mighty sorry he did it."
"But is it the only answer? I was—why, I met
her that night! That doesn't sound plausible! Isn't
there something deeper—?"
"Not a competitor in the sense you mean," said
Ballin hurriedly. "/ meant commercially. It was a
money matter pure and simple. There are some big
deals loose, Phil—enormously big. You certainly
-


210 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
have spotted us. Jim sized you up as a wet-blanket
on one of his pets. He'd have paid good money to
pry you off—and if you were the man he thought
you were, he could have handed you five thousand
dollars in cash to make yourself scarce, and he'd
still be on velvet. But you'll find him different down
here—much different. He'll probably try to soft-
soap you. That's another point. If you want to do
me the biggest possible favor, you won't mention
this incident to anybody—not to Jim himself—un-
less he does. And then accept any old explanation
he gives you. It's past and gone, and if he really
did it, he's darned sorry now. It was just an error
of judgment on his part. He sized you up for an
opponent, and he used his regular methods—knifing
in the back. Will you let that drop, too, unless Jim
brings it up? I know it's a lot to ask, but if he apol-
ogizes—and after all, you can't prove that he engi-
neered—"
"It's a full-sized order," said Hollister soberly.
"I'm afraid I'll have to hedge on that one; but at
least I won't tell your cousin. . . . Oh! Can
either of you explain why Miss Rex ford should have
written—here! I'll let you see for yourself! She
wrote to Hartwell from the Devonian, and men-
tioned—that's funny!—I know I had it yesterday."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 211
He made a second shifting of his papers. "Wait
till I look in another coat."
"What was it, Phil?"
"It was a copy of a letter—well, it isn't here!
That's mighty curious! Now—let me see—no, I
had on this coat—"
"What's the matter? Can't you locate it?"
"The copy of a letter!" said Ballin half humor-
ously. "From the Devonian—"
Hollister stopped. A numbing recollection flashed
through his brain, and came slowly back, and waxed
mighty, and became in turn an opinion, a conclusion,
a conviction, a dogma.
"Fellows!" he said haltingly. "I had that letter
in this coat pocket—I know I had it! Wait! It
wasn't yesterday morning—it was the day before!
And—it isn't here now! It's gone!" He saw as
clearly as in a photograph how it had gone, and
when. He knew who had it, and what she had
done with it. But he couldn't force himself to con-
fess to his friends! He wet his lips and stammered.
Ballin was poring over half a dozen sheets which
he had taken from his own pocket.
"Was it a copy of this, Phil?"
Hollister took the proffered page. The stationery
and the handwriting were startlingly familiar; the


212 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
first instalment of the narrative he could have re-
peated almost by heart. He looked penetratingly at
Ballin, and read:
"Dear Mr. Hartwell:
"As I notified you by wireless, Mr. Hollister is
on board. He was on the passenger list under an
assumed name. I had a talk with him this morning,
but nothing came of it.
"Mr. Hollister is a very susceptible boy, but I'm
afraid he knows too much.
"He gave me this morning a pin of mine he
found on the floor of his room at the hotel, and
told me a long rigmarole about a plant in his room.
I wish you had told me if there was anything doing.
It might have spoiled everything, because I had to
think too fast to be consistent. I hope you'll come
down as soon as you can. Mrs. C. is refractory. The
next two weeks are critical. Keep B. and K. off if
you possibly can. I'll go ahead with H, and find out
all he knows even if I have to"
Hollister passed to the second page, which was
of a different weight and weave:
"hypnotize him in the dark of the moon, and
take turns shrinking like a violet and shrieking like
an Amazon. But I'll get the story! I'll mail this
as soon as we land, and if the situation appears
worse, I'll cable before I go to the Hamilton.
"Always and always, your
"Edith."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 213
In attempting to restore the letter to Ballin, Hol-
lister's perturbation was so great that he let both
pages slip from his hands. Ballin stooped and re-
covered them, and nonchalantly stuffed them into
his pocket.
"Is that the one you had in mind, Phil?"
Hollister gulped.
"T-that's the one! I only had a copy of the first
sheet! Great Scott! Where'd you get it?"
"Jim Hartwell had a relapse," grinned Kirby.
"Too much Gulf Stream. He lost it somewhere be-
tween the Battery and St. David's. Ned picked it
up. It isn't so awfully important at that—I mean,
there's no news in it."
"But—that ending I"
"Well, what about it?"
"What about it! When you've told me repeat-
edly—that big blackguard's trying to be engaged
to your cousin! And a thing like this doesn't get
under your skin! That woman finishing a letter
like that! If it doesn't show her up—and him, too
—I don't know what would! For the love of mud,
man, haven't you any feelings? Aren't you going
to—"
"I haven't said that Jim's engaged," repudiated
Ballin. "I've told you he isn't."


214 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"But you said—"
"He wants to be, and he thinks he's going to be—
but / don't think so."
"Oh!" said Hollister. "Now I get it! You're
piling up evidence on him until you can make a kill-
ing?"
"Something like that," agreed Ballin. "And this
is simply one small link. We're gathering all the
facts we can get, but we can't shoot until the bird's
ready to fly. Now will you hush up, and let every-
thing drift along until I give you the high-sign?"
"Gladly," said Hollister. "I'm beginning to see
daylight, Ned. If I sounded too arbitrary, I'm
sorry; but some of it certainly did look raw—all I
wanted was to do the right thing."
"I always said you're a good scout," corroborated
Ballin. "Well—suppose we talk about something
else for a change. What brought you down here,
Phil?"
"Don't you know?"
Ballin affected astonishment.
"Of course I don't."
"Straight?"
"Why, certainly. Why should I?"
"Well," said Hollister, somewhat caustic, "I'm
here on business, Ned. I'm representing the—the


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 215
N. N. Corporation, of New York, Paris, London,
Berlin, Petrograd and Waxahatchie Falls. I'm a
glorified Bradstreet reporter. I'm an Abyssinian
statistic-hound. I'm a commercial William J. Burns.
Don't I look it?"
"It sounds like a he-job, Phil. What do you have
to do?"
"Everything but tend the furnace," said Hollister.
"Hours from eight a. m. to eight a. m., and if I get
any sleep, it comes out of my wages. I just run
around and grab off quotations and things. Here!
You haven't a date so soon, have you? There's lots
more for us to talk about. Sit down a while."
Ballin, who had been edging toward the door,
gave the cue to Kirby.
"Can't, Phil. We've spent too much time here
as it is. We've got to mingle. You'd better, too."
"Well—maybe later. I have to draft a report—"
"All right. Business before pleasure. Butt in
any time. And—not a word to anybody. Agreed?
That's fine. We'll keep you posted whenever any-
thing interesting turns up. Coming, Pete?"
The small man bestirred himself.
"Right-o! Say, Phil—one last thought—have
you any idea how that little pin of Frances' got into
your room that day?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 217
And Ballin: "I'm a bit nervous. Phil's up to
something queer. I shouldn't wonder if he's lost his
nerve. What's that N. N. Corporation—plain
bunk?"
"No—N. N.'s a German idiom—'nescio nomen.'
It means 'I don't know the name.' It's very com-
mon."
"Humph r said Ballin. "Well—did he say that
purposely, or just by accident? What's behind it?"
Kirby shrugged his shoulders.
"He took his degree in modern languages."
Ballin shrugged his shoulders and compressed
his lips.
"I don't like that, Pete. It might have been
purely accidental, but I don't believe it. Good lord!
Have we got to shadow Phil, too?"
"Looks so," said Kirby moodily.
Up-stairs, Hollister was mentally performing a
sum in psychological addition. He performed it
again and again, but the total was invariable; and it
symbolized the ramifications of his connection with
three great conflicting forces: Ballin and his friends,
Hartwell and his friends, and Joshua W. Brown
and his undisclosed principal. Reduced to figures,
it would seem equivocal: 1+1+1=111.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 219
Hollister hadn't explained freely and frankly. He
had assumed theft out of necessity—he had thought
only that Ballin and Kirby had overestimated the
honor of their college friend. He regretted, oh, so
sincerely, the awful mistake! Would Hollister
drink a glass of sherry with him, and forget the
past? Hollister listened gravely, declined the sherry,
and estimated that Hartwell was already the cham-
pion liar of the Middle Atlantic States, and a likely
candidate for the national title. But, after all, he
didn't exert himself to be pugnacious. What was
the use? Besides, to balance the account, he owed
Hartwell something more than mere vituperation.
He also neglected Ballin and Kirby, partly on ac-
count of his desire for peaceful meditation, and
partly because he was infected with a disquieting
belief that they had intentionally thrown dust in
his eyes. To conceal their own motives, they had
given him cause to speculate upon their judgment,
if not their integrity. They conceded the treachery
of Miss Rexford; they conceded the shamelessness
of Hartwell, and yet they permitted both these indi-
viduals to come into daily contact with Mrs. Cloud.
They wouldn't even advise her to be cautious. They
wouldn't deter Hartwell from his suit; they
wouldn't prevent Miss Rexford from spying on her


220 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
employer. Hollister couldn't understand it—but he
told himself that he had to trust his friends. Surely
they realized what they were doing, and why. And
they had assured him that when they could, they
were to explode a mine under the feet of both Hart-
well and his beautiful accomplice.
Hollister wanted to invite his soul until his qualms
were thoroughly smoothed down. As for basking
in the golden glow of Mrs. Cloud's smiles, and using
them as stepping-stones to a higher plane, that was
out of the question, since Mrs. Cloud was perpet-
ually in convoy of one or more of the others. But
Hollister didn't like to be alone, and he did like to
make the most of his occasions, so that he fell into
the harmless habit of impressing Ballin's uncle as
a gratuitous courier, and going out under the
auspices of a personal conductor to see the islands.
He found them not only worth seeing, but also
well worth going to see, which, as the late Doctor
Samuel Johnson pointed out, are two distinct and
separate conclusions. And although he didn't flat-
ter Mr. Cloud by predicting that no other guide
would have shown a more exhaustive knowledge of
his subject—and that no other guide would have
been less loquacious—he came gradually to a very
tolerant sympathy with the gray little alien; and


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 221
if he couldn't comprehend Mr. Cloud perfectly, he
could at least translate him more broadly. To each
advance Mr. Cloud was pathetically responsive, and
he labored so constantly to be entertaining that he
succeeded now and then by sheer operation of the
theory of chances. He also bathed Hollister's soul
in balsam by his perennial willingness to eulogize
his sister-in-law.
Hollister, not loath to take his clues where he
found them and learn about women from any one,
made a dead set at Ballin's uncle, and the personality
of Ballin's uncle unfolded like a morning-glory at
ruddy dawn. But when Hollister, however care-
fully and artfully, brought Mr. Hartwell into dis-
cussion, Ballin's uncle, continuing the simile, con-
tracted like a morning-glory at sunset. And that
was another morsel for Hollister's curiosity to feed
upon. He had been told by Mr. Cloud himself that
the two were great friends; and on the steamer Bal-
lin's uncle had praised the lawyer with exceeding
praise. Now he would hardly suffer his name to be
spoken before he changed the subject so unskilfully
that the whole machinery of his tact clanked and
grated.
But at length Hollister visualized a diagram of
the intricate puzzle. He had discarded but few of


222 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
his earlier tenets; it was the adoption of so many
new ones that kept his imagination in a state of
flux. The astounding behavior of Ballin and Kirby,
added to the definite status of Miss Rexford and
the unsettled state of Hartwell's and Mrs. Cloud's
prospective engagement, which was of sufficient
character to make the lady weep and her relations
curse, strengthened his conclusion that Ballin's ador-
able cousin was the point from which the compli-
cations radiated. He tried repeatedly to coerce
from Mr. Cloud some material admission to this ef-
fect; but Mr. Cloud, what time he emulated the
morning-glory at eventide, also drew an attribute or
two from the mineral kingdom. He was a morning-
glory imbedded in adamant.
After the first few days, Bermuda is no haven for
chronic sight-seers. Fill in the caves, drive out the
angel-fish, deaden the blues and the ultramarines,
and substitute slabs of Quincy granite for ledges of
pure white coral—and Bermuda has no assets which
can't be duplicated in Southern California, or
Jamaica, or the seas west of Suez. It would still
have climate, and it would still have color. Dante
has shown that these qualities lack the merit of true
exclusiveness. And after Hollister had ended his


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 223
explorations by making the grand tour to the nauti-
cal gardens in a glass-bottomed boat, and visiting the
octopus and the other octupus (the plural is dis-
puted) in the Aquarium, he was ready to dispense
with his dragoman, whose value lay chiefly in his
acquaintance with natural phenomena, and take his
climate and color undiluted by the didactic drone of
Ballin's uncle.
But the morning-glory could become at will a
clinging globule of burdock which couldn't be
brushed off.
"Oh—certainly," Hollister would say, in reluc-
tant courtesy, as Mr. Cloud unfailingly waylaid him
at the portico. "Glad to have you. No—I was only
going out to walk. Come on—do!"
Mr. Cloud inevitably did.
And so the ill-matched couple sat on the sands of
the South Shore and the cliffs of Pembroke, and Mr.
Cloud lectured incorrigibly upon the trained fish in
Neptune's Cove, and the butter from Australia, and
the substitution of goat's flesh for mutton, and Hol-
lister said "Quite true" and "Isn't it?" and "I'll
have to agree with you on that," at the proper way
stations, and intermittently wished that he hadn't
been brought up to be considerate of his elders.
There came a morning, however, when Mr. Cloud


224 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
was mercurial. In accordance with his custom, he
had leaped out of ambush, and taken Hollister on
the flank; as usual, he had offered his company with
a tacit recognition of the possibility that it wasn't
particularly enticing; as usual, he had fastened him-
self to Hollister's right arm, and trotted along in
step with him. But he was uncommunicative, not in
the complacency of heart's ease, but depressingly,
resignedly silent. Now and then he looked askance
at Hollister, and sometimes catching his eye, he
jerked his head away, and grew feverishly mottled.
He held himself in reserve, however, until, at the
border of the golf links, they came to a large and
flat-topped rock, and simultaneously sought rest at
a safe distance from the black kid—foreordained
to provide the roast for Sunday week—tethered to
the nearest tree. And then Ballin's uncle ceased to
be taciturn.
"Mr. Hollister," he said, apropos of nothing
whatsoever. "It pleases old men when—young men
pay attention to them. It does indeed. These days
with you have been—delightful. I want you to
know that. You've given me great pleasure. You've
made me feel almost young myself." Hollister
didn't confess that this compliment made him
ashamed of himself, but he thought it. "You've


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 225
given me a great deal of pleasure—a great deal. We
seemed to have—mutual relish in what we've seen.
I—I hope you look upon me as a—a friend."
Hollister nodded. "You get your hope," he re-
sponded encouragingly. "I do."
"Thank you." Ballin's uncle was gazing fixedly
out to sea. "That makes it a little easier for me to
be—a trifle importunate."
"How so?"
Mr. Cloud coughed, and patted his chest in gentle
self-admonition.
"I don't know how to be nice about this, Mr. Hol-
lister. It's such a strange thing to ask, but—how
long did you plan to stay here?"
"In Bermuda? I really don't know."
"Well—a week, or a month, or what?"
"Honestly, Mr. Cloud, I don't know."
"It isn't definite in your mind?"
"Far from it."
Ballin's uncle laid a hand on Hollister's knee. His
voice was slightly tremulous, but it had an under-
tone of salient firmness. "My boy," he said, "if I'm
mistaken in you—I'll never trust another man in all
my life!"
Hollister was planet-struck by the obliquity of the
statement.


226 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Why, Mr. Cloud—"
"Let me go on. . . . You heard what I said.
. . . If you're not the man I've thought you—
I've made my last mistake in human nature. Please
don't put me off, Mr. Hollister, or quibble. It's too
serious. And please don't kill the only survivor of
all my illusions. Just answer me—if you can and
will—are you bound up in any enterprise with Jim
Hartwell?"
"No!" said Hollister, recoiling. "I should say
not!"
"On your word of honor?"
"Parole d'honneur! Why, Mr. Cloud, that's so
utterly absurd—"
"Then why did you come down here?"
"Strictly business, and nothing but that. Why,
Mr. Cloud—"
"Let me; let me!" insisted the older man. "On
your word of honor you're not—connected with Jim
in any way?"
Hollister balked.
"Well—no." He was wondering if he should
ever glimpse accurately just what his connections
really were.
"You don't say it as though you meant it, Mr.
Hollister."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 227
"I'm sorry; I intended to."
"Your word of honor?"
"Yes. Didn't I give it once?" He was increas-
ingly mystified, and eagerly expectant.
Mr. Cloud's sad eyes rose to the level of Hollis-
ter's.
"Well, then—will you please take this as the un-
reasonable^—and unexplainable—and preposterous
—request of a very staunch friend of yours—that
you pack your luggage and leave Bermuda within
forty-eight hours?"
Hollister caught his breath.
"You're not in earnest, Mr. Cloud!"
"Oh, but I am! And because I do trust you—and
believe you—I'll tell you why I ask you to leave—
and soon. Consciously or unconsciously, you're con-
trolling the happiness of—five people. The fortunes
of—of three. The safety of—of one. I am in ear-
nest, Mr. Hollister. I'm utterly and eternally in
earnest. I'm in earnest to the extent of asking this
of you—and it isn't easy for me."
"The happiness of five people—depends on me?
Depends on my leaving Bermuda?" He was mag-
goty-headed at the mere conception of it. What was
the defeasance clause in his contract?
Mr. Cloud bobbed affirmation.


228 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Yes—and you're one of the five."
Hollister exhaled lingeringly.
"No! Still—you may be right that far—"
"But I'm sure! I'm not trifling with you—I'm
stating truths!"
"And you say the—the fortunes of three people
depend on my going away from here?"
"Yes. And you're one of the three."
Hollister's emotions were volcanic.
"And the safety of one?"
"Yes."
"Who is it?"
Mr. Cloud drew back at the unexpected outburst.
"I—please don't ask that!"
"It isn't myself, of course!"
"No. I—"
"Who is it, then?"
"Mr. Hollister, won't you save me the—the pain
of refusing to answer you? I've given you the
truth—perhaps I shouldn't have given so much—
but I want you to see that this is very real, and
very important, and very imminent."
Hollister laughed mirthlessly.
"Honestly, it's hardly—why, it's the most fantas-
tic thing I ever heard! Who are these people? Are
you positive you aren't imagining a calamity—?"


230 WHAT TIE LEAST EXPECTED
"Yes, Mr. Hollister—you must! I need your
pledge! I must be surety for it!"
"To whom?"
"Again—I'm prevented from—publishing—"
"Although you're not prevented from suggesting
that I throw over my business—"
"Mr. Hollister, business can't be made an excuse
—it's a human life!"
Hollister flushed. He looked at Ballin's uncle,
and saw that he was shaking uncontrollably.
"Mr. Cloud! This won't do any good! Pull
yourself together! Come!"
"Perhaps—if we were walking—"
Hollister helped him up; and when Ballin's uncle
felt his feet under him, he smiled feebly, and fast-
ened to Hollister's arm.
"Let's get some action—it'll do you good."
"Not that way—back toward the hotel—"
"Anywhere you like. Now—go ahead. What's
all this about a human life? Whose is it? There
isn't going to be a race riot, is there? What in Sam
Hill have 7 got to do with it?"
Mr. Cloud, hanging to the flexed forearm, shook
prodigiously.
"You're the—the governing— You're the—"
"Whose life? You don't mean that it's—well,


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 231
what on earth do you mean? Tell me that, and
I'll—"
"Mr. Hollister, I can't! But it's some one who's
—a close, close friend of yours—"
"But how can / have anything to do—"
Mr. Cloud was displaying the commoner symp-
toms of undisguised fear.
"Because you're—you're suspected—and mis-
judged—and as long as you're in Hamilton nothing
v can stop the consequences. I'm unwise—injudicious
—when I tell you even this! You've got to go!"
"And by going I can save all these people—five
and three and one—everything you catalogued?"
"And more," said Mr. Cloud.
Hollister's gorge rose at thought of the turmoil
in which he had lived since the day he had executed
his contract in New York. He had already pon-
dered the advisability of a breach; his instructions to
file a detailed report had influenced him; his own
unrest had practically convinced him that his resig-
nation was imperative; this alarming statement of
Mr. Cloud was decisive. Whoever had hired Hol-
lister had obviously hired him to stand in the light
of his friends. The thing was nauseating both in
its vagueness and in its complexity. It was high
time to breathe pure air—and in retrospect the air of


232 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
New York seemed incredibly clean and pure. The
melodrama of the present was unendurable; not
even the hope of renewed acquaintance with Ballin's
cousin could withstand this repeated strain. And
instinctively Hollister felt that Ballin's cousin was
the One—and one of the Three—and one of the
Five. And was he to impede her? To perdition
with the contract!
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Hollister ab-
ruptly. "I'm tired of the whole darned thing—
Bermuda—everything. I don't care what I do. I'd
practically made up my mind to leave next week. So
I'll cable up to-day, and if it's all right—why, I've
hung around here about as long as I want to, any-
way. It makes mighty little difference to me when
I go."
Mr. Cloud's grip tightened.
"You'll sail the day after to-morrow? The
Oceana's going out then!" ,
"I'll think of it. And if I can arrange to get
away, I will."
"You weren't cabling for money, were you? I
could save your time—"
"Oh, no, thanks. Something entirely different."
Along the shaded Serpentine Road they walked at
tortoise speed into the glistening town. Several


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 233
times Mr. Cloud squeezed Hollister's arm, and
looked at him as though impelled to say something
explosive, but the words never came. As they were
climbing the steps of the hotel, however, Ballin's
uncle said rather thickly: “Thank you, Mr. Hollis-
ter. That'll relieve a great tension.”
And at the surname, a sharp-visaged man in a
suit of northern woolen, much too heavy and too
dark-hued for Bermuda, a man who had been pacing
impetuously the long veranda of the Hamilton,
stopped short, and stared hard and forebodingly at
Hollister, and followed him into the lobby.


XVIII
"/"T^HANK you, Mr. HolHster," said Ballin's
JL uncle, again. "I know you got into this in-
nocently—I wish I could show you how—how pre-
carious it would be for you. I've confided in you for
your own good—and other people's. It's been a dif-
ficult—errand. But it'll be to your advantage some
day. I hope you don't think—"
"Hush!" said HolHster. "I'll do what I can-
let's not bear down on it. I'll be glad enough to get
out—believe me!"
"I hope you will." Mr. Cloud rang for the sleepy
elevator. "I wish I could be more specific—"
HolHster held up his hands in deprecation.
"That's all right. I'm tired. If I can arrange it,
I'll take the Oceana." He smiled at Mr. Cloud,
and Mr. Cloud smiled fitfully back. The elevator
door yawned open, and Mr. Cloud went in. HolHs-
ter waved a gay farewell to him and turned irreso-
lutely. Should he cable his resignation, or write in
the form of a scathing criticism? Across the lobby
strolled a sharp-visaged man in a heavy winter suit,
234


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 235
strolled up to Hollister, and inclined his head in a
salutation which was tart rather than obsequious.
"Excuse me—am I wrong, or is your name Hol-
lister?"
Hollister wasn't as deferential as he might have
been.
"You're not wrong so far."
"P. W. Hollister, of New York?"
"Yes."
The sharp-nosed man was evidently satisfied.
"Could I have a couple of minutes' private talk
with you, Mr. Hollister?"
"I think not." The answer was swift and un-
qualified. Hollister was satiated with mystery. "I'm
afraid you can't. I've got about two seconds to
spare. If you've got anything to say to me, you can
say it right here."
"That suits me," said the thin-mouthed man. "I
can stand publicity if you can. I'd have rather gone
off in a corner with you, but—it's all the same in a
hundred years. What I want to know is this: How
much does Jim Hartwell pay you on this job?"
Hollister, although he was startled, regarded the
man contemptuously.
"Pardon me." He took a step toward the door,
"Hold up I Hold on there!"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 237
slowly, "I have no connection whatsoever with Mr.
Hartwell—"
"Stop fooling!" *
"On the contrary I—"
"You've got the nerve to stand there and tell me
he didn't hire you to stir up your share of this dev-
ilishness? That's piffle! I know!"
"How do you know?"
"You claim you're not operating for him?"
"For a starter, yes. I do claim I'm not. What's
next?"
The man's eyes narrowed.
"Mr. Hollister, you're a liar!"
The most famous of speckled beauties, Robert
Fitzsimmons, late of Cornwall, once said in response
to a request for a recipe, that the place to hit from
is where your hand is. Hollister hadn't the benefit
of this theory, but he had an irresistible impulse
which communicated a similar suggestion to his
muscles. Furthermore, he had passed many days
in indescribable wonder, and an hour or two this
very morning in hair-raising bewilderment. His
nerves were taut and itching. Finally, if any noun
in the language had the power to make him berserk,
it was that which the sharp-faced man had spoken so


238 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
coolly. Hollister's brain was erased of his intention
to glean information from the stranger.
His reaction manifested itself in a short upper-
cut. -
As the man staggered backward, his face pre-
sented the stultifying aspect of a cubist's canvas. So
many sensations were registered upon that con-
stricted area that Hollister, if he hadn't been so
fundamentally stirred to wrath, would have laughed
aloud. Rage predominated; and bitter astonish-
ment ran second; but there was also more than a
trace of gratification, and of scurvy humor. As a
map of unrelated passions, that face was unique in
its scope.
But Hollister didn't laugh; instead, he advanced a
nimble yard or two, poised on the balls of his feet,
and waited, as a gentleman should, for the counter-
attack. It didn't come. The sharp-nosed man,
smirking hideously, rubbed his chin and felt gingerly
of his jugular vein. Across the lobby a horrified
clerk wavered between propriety and a keen desire
to see if the young American could make Chapter
Two as convincing as Chapter One—to see if, in the
language of the reviewers, it would have a punch.
A knot of loungers, who had heard the smack of the
blow, were instantly on the run. Men appeared in


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 239
the main doorway. The elevator boy, heedless of
the peremptory ringing of the annunciator, held his
eyes glued on Hollister's two fists, and rejoiced that
he had seen the fracas in its inception.
"Other chap's a dub," murmured the elevator boy
professionally. "Big chap telegraphed that right—"
The sharp-featured man, smirking less and less,
dabbed his face with his handkerchief.
"You're wild," he said, locating the cut on his
Hp. "You'll break your hand some day with that
wallop. Well—I guess we understand each other."
"I guess we do!" said Hollister, breathing hard.
"And the next time you get in my way I'll knock you
silly!"
"Much obliged for the tip." The man glanced
about him. "Also for speaking so nice and loud.
Also for hitting me where there's witnesses. One
of these fine days you'll have an itemized bill—"
"Let it come!"
"It'll come fast enough."
"Very well. Any time you want to get brained—
just see me again, will you?"
Angered at his loss of poise, and mortified by his
exhibition of himself, he shouldered through the
semicircle of bystanders and went, with what dig-
nity he could mugter, up the broad stairway. As he


240 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
turned at the first landing, he perceived that the
sharp-faced man, surrounded by inquisitive guests,
was scribbling in a note-book between interrogations
addressed to each of the group in order.
"Witnesses!" said Hollister. "Pooh-pooh! Justi-
fiable assault and battery! This is an English col-
ony! Let him push it!" Nevertheless, the direct
charge that he was in the pay of Hartwell was dis-
heartening him vastly. He rather wished that he
had permitted the strange man to elucidate further.
Was he in Hartwell's employ? How could he admit
that he was, or deny that he was? And wasn't it
at least worth knowing.
"Confound it!" said Hollister savagely to himself.
"I'm through! No matter wliat the damned job is,
I'm through with it!" He slammed the door of his
room and picked up the telephone receiver. "Cable
office!" he snapped. He was still waiting rampantly
—for Bermuda service isn't metropolitan—when
some one tapped on the door. He reached out and
twisted the knob.
And saw Ballin's cousin standing, panic-stricken,
in the hallway.
For a moment his amazement was so great that
he could only gawk at her. He hung up the receiver,


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 241
slowly and without looking at the hook, so that his
motions were bungling and wasteful of effort. Then
he was struck with embarrassment, for Ballin's
cousin hadn't opened her pretty mouth, and he didn't
know what to say to her. He couldn't be hospitable;
and he couldn't demand what she wanted of him.
And yet it wasn't credible that she had come to his
room without purpose. Hollister reddened; and
Mrs. Cloud, after a quick scansion of the hallway,
stepped over the threshold.
"Oh, Mr. Hollister!" she said in subdued trepida-
tion. "Please, may I talk to you just one little min-
ute?"
"I'm coming right down. Will you meet me—"
"No." She was uncommonly high-wrought. "I
—I don't think that would do, Mr. Hollister! I'm
sure it wouldn't."
He was uneasy, and concurrently calm. Another
catastrophe!
"Well, anywhere you say, then."
"There isn't any safe place—but here." Down
the corridor footsteps echoed clearly, and voices.
Ballin's cousin slipped inside the room and closed
the door noiselessly. Hollister, fascinated, watched
her. She stood like a statue until the footsteps and
the voices passed and died away; then she looked at


242 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
Hollister, and gave him the most infinitesimal of
smiles. She was plainly frightened; and for that
matter, so was Hollister, but he wasn't too fright-
ened to note that the brilliance of her eyes and the
softly diffused color in her cheeks blended marvel-
ously to render her more lovely and more desirable
than ever.
"Mrs. Cloud—"
"I know how terrible this is," she interrupted.
"But I had to see you—and it's been three days now!
I've been trying so hard to see you—you haven't
even eaten at our table! I don't dare to speak out
loud anywhere any more. We couldn't talk outside
—so I came to you. I had to. Please help me I"
Hollister, chafing, eyed the door.
"Please tell me quickly, then. If any one
should—"
Her eyes showed that she wasn't ignorant of the
danger.
"/ know! Mr. Hollister, when are you sailing
for New York?"
That settled it! Mr. Cloud was right! Hollis-
ter shook himself.
"The day after to-morrow, if I can get accommo-
dations."
"You are?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 243
"I expect to."
"Must you go?"
He could have wished that her intonation implied
her longing for him to remain; it would have been
irresistible. Judgment told him, however, that she
was interested only objectively.
"I really must. Why?"
The quality of her appeal was highly seductive.
"Couldn't you wait over one more week—just
one? Couldn't you?"
He could have made excellent use of some inven-
tion to sweep cobwebs from the brain.
"But, Mrs. Cloud—"
She was delightfully unaffected in her plea to
him.
"Truly I wouldn't have come to you—here—un-
less it was critical. You realize that, don't you?
And it is critical. Can't you manage somehow—
to stay a little longer?"
Hollister looked down at her, and bethought him-
self of how her brother-in-law had beseeched him
scarcely an hour ago; arguing that Hollister could
offer no greater boon than his absence.
"I thought," he puzzled, "that I'd be doing a
favor for you and Ned and all the rest of you if I
decamped as soon as I could."


244 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
Ballin's cousin shook her head slowly.
"Who gave you that impression?"
"Well—isn't it true?"
"No—it isn't!"
Hollister blew out a great gust of incertitude. He
was experiencing the probable emotions of a billiard-
ball.
"Why, Mrs. Cloud, that's the only thing that
could drag me away from Bermuda! I heard I was
rather persona non grata around here. I had it—
I figured out that I'd be doing the best thing for all
concerned if I simply—faded."
"Then it isn't business that's kept you here?"
Fortunately, he had a prompt and truthful an-
swer; and taken aback as he was, he gave it speedily.
"My business is finished."
"So you can stay with us, if you choose?"
"Yes, I can."
"Won't you please stay, then?"
She had insensibly moved nearer to him; she was
now so near that his hands, idle at his sides, almost
touched her. He found some difficulty in eliminat-
ing the personal equation from this immediate prob-
lem. The whole subject was intensely and essen-
tially personal; but he would have liked to be
platonic about it. Plato, however, wasn't more than


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 245
two jumps ahead of Pluto. Hollister was young
and susceptible; and Ballin's cousin was young and
beautiful.
"Why?" he asked, with commendable repression.
"I—I've said that it's critical, Mr. Hollister."
"You haven't said how it is, nor for whom."
"No, I haven't! Mr. Hollister, I can't! But if
you have any regard for Ned, or—or Peter
Kirby—"
Hollister's palms twitched.
"Is it on their account that you want me to stay?"
She assented, but not too hastily.
"Yes, it is."
"And not yours?"
"Well—" She lowered her eyes. "Not for my
sake—primarily—"
Hollister was sure that Ballin's uncle would ab-
solve him if he reneged. Ballin's uncle would have
to. And Hollister could resign his silly mission,
and stay in Bermuda with a clear conscience.
Hadn't he been authorized to resign under stress?
"Partly, though?"
"Yes, but—Mr. Hollister, I wouldn't have come
to you like this for my sake! It's for Ned, and
Pete, and—Mr. Cloud. Please don't leave them!


246 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
You must let them know now that you'll stay. They
need you—they need you terribly. Can't you sacri-
fice something for them?"
Hollister took her hand—fraternally.
"Mrs. Cloud, I'd already planned to sail on the
Oceana, but I'll stay on one condition—if you'll tell
me what it is that makes you want me here, and what
I can actually do if I stay. I've been living in the
dark ever since I met you that night in New York.
If you'll tell me what good I can do—"
"But—that's impossible!"
"Even if I should make that condition absolute?"
"I—it's impossible, Mr. Hollister."
"You mean you won't? Not even for Ned—
and Pete—and Mr. Cloud?"
She was troubled beyond her power to conceal.
"No—because I can't!"
He released her. The aggravation of his recent
impatience threatened to atrophy his susceptibilities;
but before he spoke, he was again captive.
"You simply ask me—without rhyme or reason
—to vegetate here instead of carrying out my
plans to go home? And you simply say—very in-
definitely—that it'll be a favor to Ned and Peter and
Mr. Cloud?"
"Yes, Mr. Hollister,"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 247
He was increasingly brusk; but he had to neu-
tralize her sweetness.
"Did you expect me to agree to that?"
"I—I don't know."
"Yet you were willing to compromise yourself by
coming here to ask me?"
"I—I came, didn't I?"
Hollister was very sedate.
"Mrs. Cloud—my head's nothing but hash. I
don't know what to think. I'm not going to try. I
do want to help my friends. But—there are so
many conflicting things. . . . Well, there's no
use speculating. I'm groggy already. If I could be
sure I'd please you, I wouldn't delay another min-
ute. I'll stay over on the understanding that it isn't \
for Ned, or Pete, or anybody else—except you."
"If you do stay—I don't care so much about your
excuse to yourself—"
"But I want you to realize it. Do you?"
Ballin's cousin technically surrendered.
"I—well, yes."
"And to do it, I'm breaking a flat promise."
Even in her anxiety, she was provocative.
"A promise?"
"A promise I made to your brother-in-law this
morning. He was a lot more excited and downright


248 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
than you are, too. I promised him that I'd sail on
the next boat, if I could get a berth—"
Ballin's cousin was aghast.
"You promised him to sail?"
"Yes. He assured me that that would be the kind-
est act I could do for you. And so I—" He stopped,
marveling at the expression in her eyes. "Mrs.
Cloud!"
She regarded him steadily. Her face was very
white.
"He—did!" she whispered.
"Oh, Mrs. Cloud! I'm sorry if I've upset you—
but that's exactly what he did."
Her lips quivered, and Hollister's heart sank.
"And—now he's turned—!" She retreated to-
ward the door, both hands pressed against her
breast.
"Mrs. Cloud! Won't you let me help you?" She
fumbled for the knob. Hollister was ahead of her;
he barred the passage, and made as though to take
her in his arms—but he quashed the motion in the
nick of time. "Mrs. Cloud! I can't stand this! I
want to be of the greatest service I can to you—if
it'll help you, if it'll please you, I'll stay down here
until Hades is frozen solid—if I can work it out
to do it. But don't look at me like that!"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 249
The telephone rang feebly.
"I—I've thought I could rely on so many peo-
ple—"
"You can rely on me!"
"Haven't I?"
"And haven't I been what you'd want me to be?"
The telephone bell rang smartly.
"Yes—oh, yes!—You'll have to answer that—"
With great effort, he kept his arms in military in-
action.
"Let it wait! If I do stay over, will you let me
see you often? As I did before Ned came down?
And tell me everything you can—and hear what /
have to say?"
"Oh, yes—I want to! I will, really!"
"Then I'll do absolutely the best I can." At that
moment he recalled the injunction laid down by Bal-
lin and Kirby. He also remembered that after his
resignation, he couldn't afford to pay his board-bill;
since what ready money he had on hand had been
advanced by Joshua W. Brown on account of ex-
penses. Impotence fairly battered him into palsy.
He looked once at Ballin's cousin; and she shrank,
terrorized, against the wall. The telephone rang
maddeningly. "Y-you'd better go, now," said Hol-
lister, tempest-tossed. "Honestly you had!" He


250 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
opened the door, and made way for her. "Wait!"
He lifted her hand, and touched it with his lips. 'Til
try to stay for your sake," said Hollister. "If I
can fix it up by hook or by crook, I'll do it!"
She was contemplating the hand he had kissed. •
"Thank you—thank you ever and ever so much,
Mr. Hollister—"
She had fled! The telephone rang in four short,
choleric spasms. Hollister took the receiver.
"Hello—yes—Cable Officet—What cable office?
—Oh!—Yes, all right—Halifax and Bermudas Ca-
ble Company ?—This is Mr. Hollister at the Hamil-
ton—Can you take a message and let me pay for it
later?—I'll be down about three—all right—Vose,
160 Broadway, New York. / resign. Signed, Hol-
lister—Correct—Good-by.''


XIX
IFE had developed such speed during the morn-
J J ing that Hollister, when he went down to
lunch, was in the mood of an athlete in training.
The past and the present were as nothing to him;
the future was colossal. Eating had lost its pristine
charm as an indoor sport; it was merely the stoking
of fuel for the afternoon race. Hollister ate spar-
ingly at a solitary table—he wasn't in the humor to
join Ballin's party—and escaped to the veranda for
the universal solace of good tobacco.
"This merry-go-round," he said to himself, as
he exhaled the first voluminous clouds, "would
make the late S. Holmes, Esquire, turn in his grave."
He achieved a soul-satisfying smoke ring. "More
than that," he confirmed, "I'll bet it would* make
him spin!"
And, indeed, the alternating requests of Ballin's
uncle and of his cousin were infinitely more stim-
ulating to Hollister than the pabulum served up to
him by the languid waiter. He tried to piece out a

251


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 253
were just emerging from the hotel. Miss Rex ford,
perched on the arm of a chair, surveyed Hollister
under her lashes.
"I've been wondering if you've got neurasthenia,"
she said finally. "That does bring a loss of memory
with it sometimes."
Hollister was impelled to chuckle.
"On the contrary, Miss Rexford,—I've got a
memory like a tenpenny nail."
"Really? I thought you'd forgotten me."
"Never!" said Hollister, without guile.
"Never's a long, long time, isn't it?"
"Make it until the sands of the desert grow cold,
then," said Hollister lightly. "Or the sun and the
moon cease to shine, and the stars to endure. No
extra charge for poetry."
"Speaking of sand—and moons, and things—"
He knew what was coming.
"Yes?"
"When are we going to have another stroll to-
gether?" Their eyes met, and fenced a preliminary
bout.
"Soon, I hope," said Hollister. "I've intended to
go up to Fairyland again to hunt for something I
dropped up there."
"Something valuable?"


254 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Not to me—but it had associations. The term is
rather popular just now. A scrap of paper."
"Oh!" Miss Rexford was condolent. "That's
too bad. I'm afraid you'll have a hard time finding
it, won't you? It's been so many days—and such a
breeze—"
"Oh, I only wanted it for a souvenir."
"Of what, Mr. Hollister?"
"Of you," he said, lowering his voice.
"Of me? How extraordinary I"
"Not at all. I'm an inveterate collector of souve-
nirs—and that would have reminded me always of a
very memorable evening."
Miss Rexford's manner was maiden shy; but her
speech was that of a seasoned campaigner.
"There are plenty of evenings, Mr. Hollister."
"Surely. Plenty is just the word. It implies a
certain richness, and fulness."
"You're good at riddles, aren't you?"
Hollister grinned, but made no reply; and Miss
Rexford, after a generous pause, said: "This eve-
ning—perhaps?"
"Perhaps," he temporized.
"I've a beautiful story for you—not a Ford story,
either. You'll be crazy to hear it."
"But will I be if I do?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 255
Miss Rex ford smiled, and slipped down from the
chair-arm.
"You're to dine with us to-night, of course—we'll
arrange it then; shall we?"
"As well then as any time," he said ambiguously.
Twenty feet away he saw Ballin's cousin sending
him a pressing message by wireless; he replied in the
same fashion; and observed her, almost immedi-
ately, excuse herself to her four satellites, and dis-
appear within the Hamilton. "Thunder!" said Hol-
lister amiably. "I've left my watch up-stairs! May
.1 bequeath you to the quartet over there for half a
second?" He, too, went inside, loitered a moment
as a precautionary measure, and took the elevator
to the second floor.
As he had expected, Mrs. Cloud, deeply agitated,
was waiting for him in the corridor. She squan-
dered no time in preliminaries.
"Mr. Hollister!" she said huskily. "We've got
to have another talk somewhere—and I don't know
where! They won't let me out of their sight! They
won't let me alone! I said you and I were cycling to
Elba Beach—and they all said they'd go, too! I
can't get away from them! They won't even be
snubbed. Ten minutes is enough—but it's got to be
now!"


256 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"What's the matter with the balcony?"
"No—Edith'll be up! They send her after me if
I'm away two minutes!"
"Let's make a start right here. We can go down
the fire escape if we have to. What is it, Mrs. Cloud
—more about Ned?"
"I want you to promise me— Listen!" Above
the loud purr of the hoisting machinery, Miss Rex-
ford's laugh was distinctly audible. Ballin's cousin
blanched.
"She's coming now! Mr. Hollister—"
"What's the difference? Let's go out—"
"No! Here! Hurry! Hurry!" She darted
down the hallway, and flung open a door. Hollister,
in the daze which was becoming habitual to him,
followed stupidly. She closed the door ever so
softly, and shot back an adequate bolt. Breathless
they stood in suspense.
And then a tattoo sounded on the upper panel.
"Mrs. Cloud!"
Ballin's cousin shivered, and Hollister, with
painstaking care, took her hand, and gave it a com-
forting pressure. She glanced at him, and colored.
"Oh, Mrs. Cloud! It's Edith!"
Hollister shivered now, and Ballin's cousin lent
him courage.


258 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Get back!" he said, thrusting Ballin's cousin
away. "Get back! Lock it!"
Up the stairs bounded Ballin and a transient or
two; down the long chute of the corridor appeared
a man and a woman, who suddenly broke into a run
as they sensed the drama. Hollister, bending low,
suddenly recognized the sharp features which still
bore the marks of his badly placed uppercut.
"Phil!" gasped Ballin, seizing his coat. "Where's
Jim Hartwell?"
The lawyer, coming up behind him, spoke for
himself.
"Here I am—what in hell's this?"
More men and women, and more, and more; run-
ning and crowding into the circle, and drawing back
in horror, and jostling ahead in their desire to see
the horror more clearly.
"It's Diederick—Jim's law partner!"
Hollister straightened, and put his back to the
nearest door.
"Well—"
Hartwell was on his knees.
"Get a doctor!" he snapped. "He's hit hard!
Who did it? Get a doctor—beat it!"
Ballin grasped him by the sleeve.
"Jim—where were you?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 259
"I'd just gone into Hollister's room—waiting
for him. Didn't I say I was going after him?
Didn't I come out of it just now?" He glared at
Hollister. "I heard the row and came out—"
"That's right!" corroborated some one in the cir-
cle. "He did! I saw him!"
Ballin's articulation was strangely imperfect.
"Phil! Weren't you in your room? He says you
weren't—but weren't you? Where were you, Phil?"
In his mind's eye Hollister could see a girl trem-
bling on the other side of a thin partition. He could
also see a little note-book, and a host of witnesses to
an altercation in the hotel lobby. He could see that
the truth was impossible; and that the circumstances
of a lie were almost as bad. He squared his shoul-
ders, and looked steadily at the kneeling lawyer.
"Well," he said slowly to the shocked assembly,
"isn't that for—for the magistrate—and not ,you—
to ask?"


XX
Extract from the Hamilton Breeze of November
13, 1914
COURT NEWS
(Continued)
"The Worshipful J. L. Tunbridge then heard in-
formally the arguments in the matter of the assault
at the Hotel Hamilton, which is fully treated in to-
day's supplement. Mr. Philip Hollister, by his
counsel, represented that he had not been arrested,
that he had voluntarily appeared before the Court,
and that he was entitled, pending the recovery or the
charge of Mr. Constant Diederick, the injured party,
to be allowed to go in his own recognizance, or in
the custody of his counsel.
"His Worship inquired if Mr. Diederick had
made any statement or accusation, and was told that
he had not yet regained consciousness, but was lying
at the Cottage Hospital under medical surveillance.
"The prosecutor, however, offered to show that
Mr. Hollister had publicly threatened Mr. Diederick
on the morning before the assault, and that the cir-
cumstances were such as to point conclusively to the
fact that the assault could have been committed by
no other person than Mr. Hollister. He also offered
to bring in a transcript of a cable message filed by
Mr. Hollister shortly before the attack, which mes-
260


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 261
sage, addressed to one Vose of New York, was ap-
parently a resignation of a position. He further
offered the testimony of Mr. James Hartwell (vide
supplement) to the effect that the position in ques-
tion was one of conspiracy. The injuries to Mr.
Diederick, he said, justified a charge of felonious
assault.
"Mr. Edward Ballin and Mr. Peter Kirby of New
York, both guests at the Hamilton, volunteered to
testify to the previous good character of Mr. Hol-
lister.
"Mr. A B , Miss C D , and Mes-
dames E F and G H (the names
were ordered suppressed by the Provost Marshal at
the request of the parties, upon their promises to
appear at later proceedings) stated their willingness
to testify to events immediately following the as-
sault. These events, it is understood, include re-
marks by Mr. Hollister tantamount to a confession.
"Mr. Hollister, by his counsel, submitted that he
had made no confession; and denied technical
knowledge of the assault.
"His Worship inquired if Mr. Hollister could fur-
nish a bond in the sum of £500, and said that if this
were done, he would release Mr. Hollister in the
custody of his counsel to remain in Bermuda until
Mr. Diederick recovers sufficiently to give evidence.
The prosecutor's argument that Mr. Hollister was
not admissible to bail, was refused on the ground
that no arrest having been made, or indictment
drawn, the question of bail was extraneous.
"Mr. Hollister: I thank Your Worship. I
should like to ask a question. Is it necessary for the
bondsmen to be disinterested, or can they qualify
even if they may be involved in the case?


262 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Worshipful J. L. Tunbridge: In this instance
I will accept a cash forfeit from any one, inasmuch
as all parties to the action and the object of the as-
sault are aliens. A bond would have to be executed
by a landed resident.
"The Prosecutor: I insist that Your Worship
can not make this an exception to the rule that—
"Mr. Holxister: I think that either Mr. Ballin
or Mr. Kirby will deposit £500 in cash with you as
security.
"The Prosecutor: Your Worship, I strenu-
ously object! The law states—
"His Worship: Mr. Hollister is not under ar-
rest, and since there seems to be a reasonable doubt
in his favor, I will accept £500 in cash in place of
the usual bond.
"Mr. Ballin: I will have it here in five minutes.
"His Worship: That will be entirely satisfac-
tory.
"The amount was soon afterward forthcoming,
Mr. Ballin having previously established his credit
at the Bank of Bermuda, and Mr. Hollister returned
to his hotel."


XXI
“CUGAR” asked Ballin's cousin, holding in
readiness the same style of tongs which Eve
might have utilized.
“One, please,” said Hollister, scorning the obvi-
ous and cloying compliment. He took the cup, and
drank to Ballin's cousin only with his eyes while he
waited for her to baptize a slice of lemon in her own
tea. “Well—the sky's clearing, isn't it?”
One glance at the spotless heavens warned Mrs.
Cloud that he was juggling metaphors.
“Y-e-e-s,” she admitted. “But not too awfully
fast.”
Hollister sipped his tea in vast contentment. He
liked the Green Door, and its tables on the water-
side grass plot hardly three feet above the level of
the harbor; he liked the velvet atmosphere; he liked
his beverage; he liked the youthful simplicity of
Mrs. Cloud's costume; and he was healthily and
fervently in love with Mrs. Cloud.
“At any rate,” he said, “Diederick saved me from
263


264 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
a mighty ticklish explanation, didn't he? I wonder
why he doesn't talk? He could if he wanted to."
Ballin's cousin blushed warmly, and she displayed
much diligence in the study of botanomancy, or
divination by the activity of tea-leaves. Hollister
was convinced anew that she was never lovelier than
when one of those gentle tides of couleur de rose
spread so delicately and so evenly over her neck and
cheeks. It was in those interludes that her charm
was most virginal and appealing. Otherwise, it was
her splendid vigor and health which magnetized
Hollister. In either case, he was entranced.
"Yes—surely," she faltered.
Even though he regretted the cause of her embar-
rassment, he was too appreciative of the exquisite
result of it to be contrite. He admired her, and
thought unutterably gracious things.
"It's funny, too," he said. "He's playing possum
so hard that all the nurses are gossiping about it;
but he just lies there and won't speak. And he could
say I did it, and try to get square with me for the
punch I did give him—or he could accuse the man
who actually hit him. Why doesn't he? And yet
he looks people right in the face, and when they
asked if I did it, he shook his head; and when they
asked who did do it, he shook harder. He pretends


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 265
he can't talk, but one of the nurses swears she over-
heard him talking to Hartwell when he called. I
can't make any sense out of it."
Ballin's cousin ventured to raise her eyes, which
exerted their customary influence over Hollister.
He wondered sometimes why she didn't hear the
beating of his heart.
"Anyway, with Mr. Hartwell at the hospital so
much, and Edith having a nervous headache, we
have a chance to talk things over."
"Fine," said Hollister. "That's what we both
wanted, wasn't it? And you must have decided that
I'm fairly safe, or you wouldn't be here now."
Ballin's cousin smiled her affirmative.
"Out here in the sunlight it doesn't seem quite so
tragic as it did," she told him. "It all worked up to
a climax, and then there was a tremendous smash,
and now there's a lull. But I'm just as anxious to
talk to you as I was yesterday."
"Yesterday!" echoed Hollister. "Wasn't it a
year ago yesterday?"
Ballin's cousin dimpled. It was an unfair advan-
tage to take of him.
"It's probably nothing but business—but—well,
this is my side of it. In the first place, Peter Kirby
introduced us at the Aspinwall—"


266 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"You'll have to go back further than that," ob-
jected Hollister. "Won't you begin with Mr. Hart-
well? Who is he, and what is he?"
"Why, he's one of the executors and trustees of
my husband's estate."
"Oho!" Hollister was tinglingly alive to this
new data. "I see! So you've known him for sev-
eral years?"
"Only three. I never met him until afterward."
"And he's one of the executors? Is it impertinent
to ask who the others are?"
"My brother-in-law—just the two of them."
Hollister was ready to emit the view halloo. On
the Devonian Mr. Cloud had referred specifically to
his relations with Hartwell. Here at last were con-
crete premises.
"That's mighty interesting. And—"
"Is there anything else?"
"Why, yes—unless you think I'm rude—and I
hope you'll say so if you do. I'm only hunting for a
good take-off before I jump. How about Miss Rex-
ford?"
Ballin's cousin was vaguely disquieted. She
crumpled the crepe makeshift which tearooms sub-
stitute for real napkins, and smoothed it out care-
fully.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 267
"What is it you want me to say?"
"I understand that you found her by advertising
—and that her references were all good?"
"Oh, yes."
"Who was it that suggested your having a com-
panion?"
"I don't recall, but Mr. Hartwell and my brother-
in-law and Ned and Peter all agreed."
"Mr. Hartwell wasn't the one who first brought
up the subject?"
"Not that I remember."
"All right," said Hollister, resting his elbows on
the table and clasping his hands. "Now go ahead
with that night at the Aspinwall."
Ballin's cousin was deliciously confidential as she
bent toward him.
"Nothing happened that night—or for a day or
two, until we met you on the Devonian. Ned and Pe-
ter had told me a great deal about you, and Ned had
planned to give a luncheon so that we could meet.
Then you dropped in on us, and we didn't have the
luncheon! After you turned up so unexpectedly on
the Devonian Edith began to talk about you. You
and I discussed that at Fairyland. But after you
walked with her—the evening I asked you to—she
changed completely. She couldn't praise you


268 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
enough. Then Ned and Peter and Mr. Hartwell
came down."
"Since when," he said, "I've been lonely in the
midst of a multitude."
Her smile was a very suitable reward.
"Four or five days ago, when you and Mr. Cloud
began to play around together, and eat together be-
fore the rest of us were ready, Mr. Hartwell came to
me and—he hinted that you were trying to make
friends with Mr. Cloud for—from ulterior mo-
tives. He's always advised me, you know. He
repeated everything Edith had told me earlier and
added something. And he pro—and after that,
Peter talked to me about you—and he said that
your being here was worth thousands of dollars to
him and Ned."
Hollister proved mentally his psychological sum.
1+1+1=111.
"Indeed!"
"That's exactly what he said. Then yesterday
noon Ned came to me. He was—oh, frightfully
excited. He said he'd heard you were going north;
he wanted to know if I knew why. And when I
said I didn't, he said—I'll try to quote—he said
that if you left Bermuda now it would ruin him
and Peter both! He said it would mean a legal


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 269
battle, and money, and reputation—and he wouldn't
explain any more than just that. He said my
brother-in-law would be affected, too—and I'd no-
ticed that Mr. Cloud has been awfully worried
lately. And Ned begged me to—to be so nice to
you—if I could—so that you'd like it down here.
I know this doesn't sound very terrible to you—but
you didn't see Ned. He isn't very emotional—but he
was perfectly livid. I knew it must be critical; Ned
said that one single day would make all the differ-
ence in the world. So—I tried to make an appoint-
ment with you—"
Hollister was distrait.
"Why on earth didn't Ned come to me?"
"He said he couldn't. He said he hadn't any—
I think he said 'pull' with you. And every time I
made any movement, either Mr. Hartwell or Edith
or somebody else was there. I could send Edith off,
of course, but they were right at my heels constantly
—and when I saw how miserable both Ned and Mr.
Cloud were—I—I lost my head—I didn't think of
anything except that they must need you tremen-
dously, and—and so—"
Hollister, with a tact which she never appreciated,
was quick to interrupt her.
"And Ned and Pete were pretty lucky to have


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 271
And at lunch Ned couldn't eat a mouthful. So I
was surer then than ever that I had to have your
word that you'd stay here—and that's exactly what
I want you to talk about now. What if it, Mr. Hol-
lister? What have Ned and Peter been up to?"
Hollister would have given much for the power
to answer categorically.
"Ned won't enlighten you?"
"I should say not!"
"He doesn't seem very communicative, and that's
a fact. I've cornered him twice since yesterday, and
he's wiggled like an eel. He wouldn't even admit
that he's alive. Wouldn't Peter say anything?"
"Nor Peter." v
"He wouldn't to me, either. And your brother-
in-law?"
"Nor Mr. Cloud."
Hollister toyed awkwardly with his spoon.
"The worst part of it is—I do want so much to
relieve you, but—as a matter of fact, I'd have to
wade through a whole sea of broken promises if I
went into the fine points. I haven't had a chance for
a seance with Mr. Cloud yet—"
"But, Mr. Hollister! Only yesterday he asked
you not to stay in Bermuda! An hour or two
later Ned was telling me that he and Peter would be


274 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"And you truly don't know what the kernel of
it is?"
"I wouldn't guarantee that I even know what the
shell is! I'm trying hard to find out. And in the
meantime, I'm absolutely at your disposal."
Ballin's cousin creased and uncreased the flimsy
napkin.
"Well—I'd hoped—never mind! If you're guess-
ing, too, there isn't a great deal of use in—brooding
about it, is there? One last word—the—the things
Ned and Peter told you aren't—they aren't—per-
sonal, are they? They aren't about me?"
"Not a bit of it—merely their private business af-
fairs. It's probably nothing but a financial fight
with Mr. Hartwell."
Ballin's cousin was flamingly intent.
"A fight? Did you say a fight? Ned and Peter
with Mr. Hartwell?"
Hollister could cheerfully have sawn off his
tongue, and tossed it to the school of doctor-fish in
the harbor for clinical research. His aspect was
again that of the guilty schoolboy; he could feel the
erubescence of his ear-lobes.
"I—that was—that just slipped out," he stam-
mered.


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 275
Ballin's cousin clung relentlessly to the point.
"But is it true? Ned and Peter are having a fight
with Mr. Hartwell? Is it?"
Hollister attempted to palter.
"Be that as it may—"
But the parenthetical alibi of George W. Monroe
didn't suit the requirements of Ballin's cousin.
"Is it, Mr. Hollister?"
When his eyes met hers, he couldn't equivocate.
"I hope they'll forgive me. Yes!" he said.
Ballin's cousin took it quietly enough, and only
the rise and fall of her bosom betrayed that excita-
tion she was endeavoring to conceal.
"That—is—surprising," she managed.
"I ought not to be let loose without a keeper!"
said Hollister remorsefully. "But the cat's out of
the bag now. I never did like cats anyway."
Ballin's cousin composed herself with an effort.
"You don't know if it has to do with me?"
"Why should it?"
"Well," said Ballin's cousin, "it shouldn't—but it
might be."
Hollister nearly overturned the table in the tumult
of his eagerness.
"Mrs. Cloud! You're not engaged to him?"


276 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
Her reflex was as pronounced as it had been on
the Devonian when he attempted to congratulate
her.
"No! Oh.no!"
"But he's—he wants you to be?"
"He's insufferable!"
"Then I've got it! I've got it! That's the cause
of the whole riot! Ned and Pete and Mr. Cloud
and Hartwell and you! He's got a hammer-lock on
'em somehow—he's trying to influence them
through you! Mr. Cloud has had business with
him—he told me so himself! Ned and Pete have too
—they told me so! They're afraid to oppose him—
and you say he's insufferable to you! And there
you are!"
Ballin's cousin was very wide-eyed and white.
"That's incredible!" she said dully. "It's simply
incredible I But—it would explain a lot! I never
thought of that before. I wonder if that's it?"
"What else can it be?" he demanded.
"To—to marry that man—ugh!" Her shudder
was thoroughly expressive of her aversion to the fat
lawyer. "But, Mr. Hollister! What hold can he
possibly have on them? They wouldn't let me marry
him to save themselves money! They wouldn't
dream of it! And as for urging me—they haven't


278 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Mr. Hollister—please—"
"Has it got to be 'Mr. Hollister' still? After yes-
terday, and to-day—still 'Mr. Hollister'?"
"Please! Somebody'll see you!"
Reluctantly, he freed her. The consciousness of
his boldness appalled him; but Ballin's cousin sud-
denly smiled and grew roseate.
"Now—Mr. Hollister," she said. "You've earned
a—a sort of reward. Do you remember?"
He nodded in stupefied delight.
"I remember." As though overcome by shyness
at the realization, he added in what he meant to be
a tone of sturdy conquest, and what was in reality a
strained and feeble whisper: "Frances!" And
then, because his vocal cords were quite intact, and
because their vibration was marvelously loud, he
said in what shouldn't have been an articulate voice
at all: "You darling!"
For a moment his perceptions didn't record that
there were two startled exclamations. He heard
but one. His attention was riveted upon Ballin's
cousin; it wasn't until he saw that her gaze was di-
rected above his head that his cognoscence regis-
tered the second of the responses. Then he turned,
and found himself under the battery of Miss Rex-
ford's eyes. She was standing a dozen feet distant,


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 279
midway between the table and the steps leading
down from the street, blinking hard.
"Edith!"
Miss Rex ford's eyes filled with tears. There was
no mistaking the fact; they were corporeal, saline
tears, whatever their emotional origin; one of them,
outstripping its fellows, ventured out upon her
cheek. Miss Rexford's mouth worked pathetically.
Miss Rexford snuffled. She looked at Hollister and
at Ballin's cousin; and she took a step backward,
and another; and she whirled about and stumbled
blindly over the lawn, and up the wooden steps, and
out through the Green Door itself to the highway.
Ballin's cousin transferred her mindfulness to Hol-
lister. He was gloriously red, and shamefaced, and
demoralized; and Ballin's cousin, beholding him,
was smitten with that intuition which Kipling, the
story-teller, adduces to prove that Judy O'Grady
and the colonel's wife are both women. She knew!
Or, rather, she thought she knew. Hollister was
the one who had perfect knowledge; and through
the chaos of his thoughts ran a verification of his
belief that Miss Rexford was an accomplished tra-
gedienne and farceur. She had staged it admirably,
with the precise amount of repression to furnish
verisimilitude. She had conveyed, without uttering


280 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
a single word, an unmistakable impression of her
wrongs, and of her rights. And Hollister sat
tongue-tied, inept.
Ballin's cousin pushed back her chair, and rose.
"Mrs. Cloud! Frances!" he gasped.
"No." Her voice was ineffably weary and dis-
couraged. "I'm going back now. There's nothing
to say, is there? Don't come with me, please. I
want to be alone. I'm so tired of—explanations!"
Again—and it seemed for the thousandth time—
Hollister had none to give. He sat in dumb dejec-
tion, until at length the waitress poked the reckon-
ing under his napkin; and when he picked up his hat
and went to the foot of the steps, he was still un-
aware that he had tipped Cinderella five shillings
for serving five shillings' worth of tea. Small won-
der she said politely that she hoped he would come
again.


XXII
"T HATE these war liars," drawled Kirby irrele-
1 vantly.
Hollister, who was smoking in grim contempla-
tion of the foamy Boilers offshore, grunted, and
continued to contemplate and to smoke.
"Man in the cafe," went on Kirby, burrowing
with his elbows into the pinkish sand, "bragged he'd
invented a patent camera to take positives instead
of negatives, and develop 'em right inside the ma-
chine. Use 'em in aeroplanes—and save time in
scouting. Have your pictures of the evening's cook-
tent as soon as you land. Isn't that some stunt?"
"By all means," said Hollister absently.
"He told me," narrated Kirby, "that the Kai-
serly and Kingly governments have him for the
thereto rights fifty thousand mark ge-offered."
"Is that so?" muttered Hollister, removing his
pipe from his mouth, and looking reproachfully at
it, after which he enjoyed a brief period of strangu-
lation.
"So I told him I'd invented an X-ray field-glass.
281


282 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
When you look through it at the enemy you don't
simply see where he is and what he's going to have
for breakfast—you see what he's already had for
dinner, and what the trade-mark is on his athletic
underwear. And I told him the Kaiserly and Kingly
governments had me for the thereto rights a hun-
dred-thousand mark ge-offered. And Vermaledeite
Ungeschichlichkeit! He didn't believe me!"
"Oh, absolutely!" said Hollister; and Kirby,
glowering at him, made an uncannily close analysis
of his thoughts.
"Phil!"
"Yes?"
"Look around here."
"Well?"
"Thou hast a sentimental cast of countenance, old
dear. What irks thee? That yon orb of day seest
her, and thou—thee sees her not?"
"Oh—nothing—more or less." Hollister squinted
hard at the nearest Boiler, and smoked furiously.
"And right speedily," said Kirby with malicious
softness in his voice, "Sir Bohunkus smote Sir Hol-
stein the Bull on helm and guerdon and greave and
wrist, and all to brake his gonfalon—"
Hollister transfixed him with a flash of outraged
dignity.


284 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
on the Erie Road; dubbed Knight by our sovereign
lord the King, and a dub ever since; Colonel of H.
M.'s Own Royal Loyal Light Tight Rooting Toot-
ing Fliwering Roustabouts; Honorary Major of the
King's Own Rifles, the Queen's Own Shotguns, and
the Crown Prince's Own Pea Shooters; Commander
of the Disorder of the Bath; A. M. Litt, D. D. S. O.,
B. V. D., F. O. B., Second Vice-President of the
Timothy J. Sullivan Chowder Association—'"
"Pete, I'll slay you!"
"'—And so forth, including the Scandinavian.'
And the damsel made obeisance, and said, 'Oh, sir,
thou wottest not of what thou hast done. And e'en
hadst thou wotted—'"
"Oh, choke yourself I Get it out of your system I"
"'—Thou couldst have breasted thy spear no
more nobly. I hight the Lady Nicotine, Marquise
Corona, born of rich but honest parents, the same
being Henry Clay and Hoyo de Monterrey—"
"Humph!"
"'—Who dwell on yon castled steep at the sign of
the United Cigar Store. My pet name is Lizzie the
Lath. Father's got a Ford. Thou mayst kiss our
hand.' But Sir Bohunkus had higher aspirations,
and—"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 285
"Pete, if you want me to bounce one of these
rocks off that receding forehead of yours—"
Kirby was righteously wrathful.
"All right, you unimaginative pirate," he said.
"Here I've been trying to show keen insight into
human nature—"
"You have!"
"Sure I have! When I saw that somewhere-else
expression of yours, I spotted you cold—"
"Yes, you talked like it!"
"The Sieur Bohunkus," explained Kirby pa-
tiently, "is said by the scholiast to mean no less a
personage than Philip W. Hollister—"
"Pete!"'
"And the allegory, being interpreted, teaches us
that every man's a hero as long as he thinks about
it. Come up with the truth, now—weren't you slay-
ing dragons?"
Hollister snorted.
"No such slush as that!"
"Ah, but over it I threw the golden veil of ro-
mance and chivalry," said Kirby kindly. "For Bo-
hunkus, read Hollister. For the Lady Nicotine, read
—glug!" He was sputtering under a miniature
sirocco, which had its rise not many inches distant,


286 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
where Hollister's hands had busied themselves in
the running of sundry tunnels, and the accumulation
of much coarse sand. "That's a refined little trick!"
he said indignantly, as he examined his glasses.
"Unless the subject is changed," stated Hollister,
"you're going to find yourself in the mythical atti-
tude of the well-known ostrich! Or—in your own
style—Sir Bohunkus will all-to-brast your skinny
neck for you!"
"And all I said was—"
"I heard you the first time!"
"All I wanted to say was—"
"You've said it!"
Kirby grimaced, and removed the final atom of
isinglass from his tongue.
"Well, how are they coming?"
"How's what coming?"
"I crave benison, fair sir—"
"Venison?"
"Benison. And without fear of let or hindrance, I
ask, prithee—how's things between you and Frances?"
"Meaning what?"
"Marry, fair sir—"
Hollister laughed helplessly.
"Pete, if you had as much judgment as you have
nerve, you'd be another Napoleon I"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 287
"I thank you for them kind words. But as an
older and wiser man than you—"
"Who is?"
"I am referring to that prince of good fellows,
P. Witherspoon Kirby. As an older and a wiser
man, and one who knows well the wicked world,
and its dangers and its bitternesses, I yearn to see
you renounce your wild ways, and settle down to
peace and quietude. And in New York you told me
you were raving, tearing crazy about a certain
beauteous damsel hight—"
"Lay off that 'hight' stuff, Pete! It's nauseat-
ing!"
"Well—yclept, then. Good old English expres-
sion—yclept. We gladly exchange all verbs if found
unsatisfactory. A certain damsel yclept—"
"That's worse yet! Besides, I never said such a
thing in my life!"
Kirby's face showed both sorrow and amaze-
ment.
"You didn't sit in the Harvard Club and tell
me—
"I didn't tell you anything!"
"Ouch!" said Kirby ruefully. "Well—that's
something entirely different. I'd deluded myself
into thinking you were human after all."


288 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
With the tip of his forefinger Hollister inscribed
his initials in the sand.
"You did, did you?"
"I did; and I rejoiced, gave thanks, and sang."
"You can save a good deal of your time," said
Hollister, "by cutting out all that rejoicing. And
don't bother to sing, either. You've got so much
information that most of it isn't true."
Kirby laughed.
"I'd love to need money and sit in a poker game
with you, Phil. You don't spuffle worth a cent.
Cheer up; even Falstaff wasn't ashamed of him-
self."
"Pete, I'm out of the running—pulled up lame,
and ruled off the track."
"Such language!" reproved Kirby. "Oh, my dear
Duke, how you must have misspent your youth!"
"That's probably the reason why I've been thrust
out into utter darkness."
"So soon? You're getting along famously. I
hadn't any idea you'd got that far! Good work,
Margrave! Go kill another Saracen for her, and
the world is yours!"
Hollister refilled his pipe.
"Unfortunately you've got the wrong angle on it,


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 291
during the last week or two I've got myself all
balled up in your private affairs. In the mass it
isn't very pleasant, either. It's got me into some
real hot water. I wouldn't let that bother me a lot
if I saw any advantage in it for any of us. But in
addition to everything else, I am in wrong with—
one or two people. And I'm foot-loose again. So
I've just about decided to come to a show-down. If
the pleasure of my company is worth anything to
you, I'm afraid you'll have to write me a check,
Pete. I'm foot-loose, but I'm broke! I'd love to
loaf down here, but it costs money. So you can
make out your budget, and if you'll lend me say two
hundred, I'll be all right for six weeks anyway.
Otherwise, if I can't be of any use to you except as a
brilliant conversationalist, I'd better start to wade
back to Broadway."
"I'll lend you anything you want, Phil."
"That is—on the grounds that it'll be worth while
to you? That I won't be running up bills need-
lessly? I'm no plutocrat, Pete."
Kirby's smile was cherubic.
"Phil, it's time now to get together. That's why
I asked you to wander over here with me. I'm go-
ing to disgorge. First off, I told you in New York
that our distinguished fellow-townsman and bar-


292 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
rister thought he'd rather like to take his breakfasts
from now to by-and-by with Frances, didn't I?
And we admitted we knew he'd subsidized Miss Rex-
ford for a sort of game-warden, didn't we? Fine!
Now we also conceded that Jim had—well, Jim
had a big, juicy, stuffed club that he could shake
over the rest of us, and he jolly well shook it. We
couldn't yip. He had us where there wasn't any-
thing to do but pray for another flood. All we
could do was to spar for time and listen for the
gong. Then you came dashing up to the Aspin-
wall, and we had a breathing space between rounds.
Then you came trailing down here. That gave us
another one. And Jim guessed you were his deadly
rival, and he just naturally laid for you. Edith
Rexford laid for you. And Jim wasn't clever
enough, but it sort of looks as though Edith got
you.”
“There's no news in that, Pete.”
“Act Two,” said Kirby. “Midnight at the Old
Mill. Out of the cerulean firmament comes Died-
erick, who's Jim's law partner. He was supposed
to be slaving in New York; and he didn't throw
away any loose change in cabling anybody that he
was on the way down here. He just breezed in un-
announced. He came up on the veranda that day


294 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
of this party! Why in thunder should that pot-
bellied lawyer be afraid of me?"
"Yet he was," said Kirby.
"And if I jumped to New York, he could exert
influence of some sort to—to—compel—"
"He could have, and he would."
Hollister was able to reconcile this statement with
one which Ballin's cousin had made; and for this
small mercy he was very grateful. He didn't notice
that Kirby had used a past tense.
"Then why did Mr. Cloud ask me to pull up
stakes?"
"Did he do that? The old jackass!—ahem! Why,
if he did that, Phil, he must have gone off half-
cocked. It certainly is a surprise to me I"
Hollister put away his pipe, and embraced his
knees tenderly.
"I've been doing a lot of heavy thinking, Pete,
and I've just about decided that the safest thing
is to tell you the truth and ask you what I ought to
do. Did you ever run across another New York
lawyer—a man named Joshua W. Brown?"
"Oh, yes. He's a bear!"
"The job I've had," said Hollister, "was with
him; and—"
"I know that, Phil."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 297
doggo, and that releases you. Of course I hope
you'll stay with us of your own accord for the fun
of the thing, and I'll hand you all the money you
want. But as long as Diederick's here—"
"Who's the principal, Pete? Who's been paying
my expenses—and why?"
Kirby suddenly raised himself on his elbows.
"Here he comes now, old dear! There's your prin-
cipal. Ask him yourself I"
Hollister, turning, saw his friend Ballin hurrying
down the last few steps of the long stairway from
the heights. Ballin obviously had something on his
mind—something weighty. He didn't salute the
pair on the beach, he didn't acknowledge Hollister s
long-distance greeting. He came swiftly toward
them; and when he was eight or ten yards away, he
said harshly: "Pete! I want you! Diederick—"
He swallowed hard.
Kirby scrambled upright. His eyes were blazing.
"He hasn't taken it back, Ned! He hasn't lied to
us! Not that!"
Ballin shook his head dejectedly.
"No—it's a lot worse than that! It's worse than
ever, now. He's dead!"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 299
"At least," said Hartwell, "we can debate. Or
rather, I can narrate and you can confess—and con-
fession, I've read, is good for the soul. Just let's
sit in the shade over here, and go into executive ses-
sion. Shall we?"
Hollister had come so freshly from his talk with
Ballin and Kirby at Elba Beach that he was in no
mood to refuse. He signified his acquiescence, and
ranged a chair alongside the barrister's.
"Before you go too far, Mr. Hartwell," he said,
"you might as well realize that I know pretty well
what you're going to say."
"Do you, indeed!" The lawyer's approbation was
palpably a mockery. "Are you fond of gambling,
Mr. Hollister? Would you want to make a friendly
little wager on it?"
"No."
Hartwell lifted his eyebrows.
"My dear young man, when you're my age you'll
take your defeats more philosophically—just as
you'll take your victories. Just now, I'm calm in vic-
tory—don't you think we'll both save energy if
you're calm in defeat? If I'm ever in your place,
/H be."
"I'm not beaten yet," said Hollister stubbornly.
"Oh, but you are! You football players confuse


300 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
courage with shame. I've seen men play until they
couldn't stand, and had to be carried off the field.
That's not courage. It takes genuine courage to ad-
mit a beating—and the man who's said not to know
when he's licked, usually does know; but he doesn't
dare to appear to others as though he hasn't the
bravery to continue. He hasn't the true bravery—
all he has is its husk. And if you're generous
enough to look cold facts in the face, and if you're
courageous enough to quit at the proper time, you'll
deserve great credit, and you'll live to fight another
day. Now since you're so omniscient, what do you
think I'm going to say next?"
"I'm going to let you do the talking, Mr. Hart-
well."
"That's politic. Well, then—you've probably
heard of the very sad and shocking death of my part-
ner at the Cottage Hospital?"
"I have—yes."
"Did you hear of the curious document he drew
up?"
"No."
"The beauty of it is," said the lawyer smoothly,
"that it's not within the statute of deathbed state-
ments. It's a peculiar document—very peculiar.
Why, about two hours before he died, Mr. Died-


I
I
I
I
I
i
i


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 301
erick sent for Judge Tunbridge and a notary. He
wanted to make an affidavit, and he wanted to make
it in the presence of His Worship—you'll observe
that his is a nisi prius court. It's a court of the first
instance, that is. Possibly that's of less interest to
you than it is to me. At any rate, Mr. Diederick
swore that the assault committed upon him was not
committed by me."
"Ah!" said Hollister, alert.
"His reason for making that oath was because he
knew that certain individuals might have attempted
out of spite to drag me into the case. I had fol-
lowed him up-stairs. I had left him at the top, and
gone to your room, and gone in—the door was un-
locked—but there were no witnesses to prove it. He
wished to relieve me from even the slightest embar-
rassment."
"I see," said Hollister slowly. His forehead was
cold with perspiration.
"Furthermore, Mr. Diederick solemnly swore that
the assault was not committed by you."
Hollister stiffened.
"What?"
"He had already denied by signs that you struck
him, except in a previous altercation, but this time
he desired to make his denial a matter of record.


302 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
He stated that in truth and in fact, it was committed
by a person or persons unknown to him; and that
neither you nor myself was in the corridor at the
time. He was unable to describe that person or
those persons unknown. To the best of his knowl-
edge and belief, it was one person—a short, swarthy
native under the influence of liquor—and this im-
ports, as you see, a motive of robbery. So that as
far as you and I are involved, Mr. Hollister—al-
though I never was actually mentioned except as a
witness for the prosecution—the matter is ended."
He beamed at Hollister, and preened himself like
an overfed pouter-pigeon.
Hollister did his best not to seem startled by news
which was, to the extent of his fear of publicity in
establishing an alibi, really a tonic relief to him. He
realized that Hartwell was merely finessing.
"That's illuminating," he said.
"Of course, I was moderately sure that you hadn't
injured poor Diederick—"
"You ought to be," said Hollister bitterly. The
lawyer gestured excellently.
"Oh, too sharp—much too sharp! The fates
were against you, and moreover, you'd publicly
threatened to do something of the sort—but I was
moderately sure—" His voice was studiously of-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 303
fensive. "I was moderately sure you lacked the
initiative."
"It can be demonstrated," said Hollister, "when-
ever it's questioned."
The lawyer shook his finger playfully.
"My dear young man, you're so young! It's
only the most short-sighted of belligerents who ever
come to blows. One pays too much for a very brief
revenge. But we're wandering from the main topic.
Mr. Diederick has exonerated you; and after the
formality of another examination before His Wor-
ship, I think you'll find yourself free to go wherever
you like. That brings me to the crux of this con-
versation. You may remember that at one time I
offered you a considerable bonus to leave New York.
The market has sagged heavily, Mr. Hollister. To
be sure, I'm now suggesting that instead of leaving
Manhattan, you go there, but this time there's no
bonus. What's your suggestion?"
Hollister watched the course of a timid cyclist
down the slope of Queen Street.
"I'm exclusively a listener, Mr. Hartwell."
"Oh, you prefer to have me elaborate? Charmed,
Mr. Hollister. You are, I believe, a close friend—
an extraordinarily close friend—of Ned Ballin. You
satisfied me of that in the first interview I ever had


304 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
with you. To a similar degree, you are a friend of
Peter Kirby. That I also learned and verified. To
a lesser degree, you are a friend of Mr. Cloud. This
much I have seen. Now there are fundamental rea-
sons why your presence in Bermuda is distasteful
to me. These reasons are, first, that you are a
friend of Mr. Cloud; second, that you are a friend
of Peter Kirby's; third, that you are a friend of Ned
Ballin's. I'm very loath to say it, but you're about
as welcome as a cop-bunker in the wrong place.
You're a disturbing element. You're an unnatural
hazard. You interfere with a natural trajectory.
And because you haven't been able to separate
friendship and business, I won't offer to buy your
consent, as I did before; I'll reverse the proposition.
I'll make you the same offer I'd make to any paid
friend of this trio in the same contingency. Here
it is: It won't cost you a sou to clear out."
Hollister grinned sardonically.
"Yes—I anticipated that sort of proposition. But
suppose I still feel as I did when you opened negotia-
tions once before? Suppose I don't choose to en-
tertain it?"
The lawyer spanked his chair-arm with his palm.
"Don't trifle, Mr. Hollister. It isn't becoming."
"I'm not trifling."


306 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
the rest of your life—because it'll send another of
your friends to a nice gray apartment in a nice gray
building where the bars on the windows weren't in-
tended to shut out the mosquitoes. Go on back to
your own crowd, Mr. Hollister! Ask Ned Ballin
if I'm reciting any fairy story! And after he's con-
vinced you—buy your transportation—and see the
judge, will you? He'll give you your laisser-aller
—we've got an extradition treaty with these people."
Hollister sunk his nails into the palms of his
hands, and kept a curb on his temper. He had to.
"Is that all?"
The lawyer laughed genially.
"Isn't that enough?"
"It's too much in one way—and not enough in
another. When I need assistance in mapping out
my itinerary, I'll go to Cook's bureau—"
"But, my dear young man, you forget that when
you signed up with Ned Ballin, and when you em-
barked on the good ship Devonian, and when you
watched the beautiful moonlight from Fairyland—
the wonderful, illusive moonlight—and when you
materialized out of thin air to stand over Diederick
in the corridor, you mapped out for yourself an
itinerary which can't very well be altered at this
late date."


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 307
"How do you mean?" demanded Hollister after
a pause.
The lawyer stood up, and smiled paternally.
"Ask Ballin," he said. "Really, Mr. Hollister,
I'm amazed at your slowness. You want axiom dem-
onstrated. Well—see your friends once more.
Perhaps they haven't been quite candid with you.
And I'm making you a present of forty-eight hours.
If you hurry, you can easily make your reservation.
I think you'll find the staterooms on the promenade
deck amidships the most comfortable. Will you
have a cigar? No? Why so ungracious, Mr. Hol-
lister? I'm not. You won't change your mind and
have one?" His manner was condescending in
the extreme. "Well—of all people in the world!
See who's coming!"
Ballin and Kirby, who had preferred to walk
rather than to ride back from Elba, were toiling up
the grade to the Hamilton. Hartwell signaled to
them.
"Oh, gentlemen! Just a moment."
"Well?" snapped Ballin, coming to a halt.
The lawyer, posing on the veranda, smiled down
at him.
"Your Mr. Hollister doesn't comprehend why Mr.
Diederick's untimely—er—demise removes one im-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 309
still smiling, but with icy determination. His mouth
had hardened and the glint in his eyes wasn't the
glint of humor.
"Oh! That's it! Both of you heard that?"
"Jim," said Ballin hastily—"Jim f Take your
time! He—"
"Take my time! Take my time! By God, I will
—and it's now! Hollister—"
"Don't talk to me! I've nothing more to say to
you!"
The lawyer licked his chops.
"Ballin—you've struck the rocks—know that?"
Ballin put out his hand to restrain him.
"Jim! You're running wild—"
"I'll run wilder before I'm through! This young
buck is going to apologize—and get off this island
—and you're going to guarantee it—or I'll cable
the Surrogate inside of three minutes!"
From the direction of Victoria Park Mr. Cloud,
sleek and debonair in doeskin and cork helmet,
tripped gingerly into the middle distance. Kirby
beckoned frantically to him.
"Good day, everybody," said Mr. Cloud, not alto-
gether at ease as he joined the group. "What seems
to be the excitement?"
"Jim Hartwell says—"


I
XXIV
NOW after Hollister had listened to the revela-
tions of his friend Kirby, and the impreca-
tions of his friend Ballin at Elba Beach, and to the
mandates of Mr. Hartwell on the veranda; and after
he had seen the promptness with which Mr. Cloud
fainted at mention of a Surrogate, he began to per-
ceive an occasional knot-hole in the fence of mystery'
surrounding the group to which he had attached
himself. To be sure, he wasn't yet positive of the
correctness of his deductions, and his friends were
temporarily too demoralized to exchange mind with
him, but at least he had enough information for a
working basis. Ned Ballin, through the office of
Joshua W. Brown, had secretly subsidized him be-
cause he was somehow predestined to become a pow-
erful antagonist of Hartwell. Hartwell was openly
waging a campaign to remove him. Kirby had
granted that Hartwell exercised a high grade of
duress over the other three men; and Hollister sur-
mised that it was duress arising out of a financial
311


312 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
power. Mr. Cloud had collapsed under a fulmina-
tion which included in its scope the authority of a
jurisdiction which is essentially financial. Mr.
Cloud and Hartwell were co-executors of the Cloud
estate. Ergo, the foundation-stone of the under-
ground warfare indubitably rested among the con-
ditions of the will, or among the circumstances of
carrying them out.
The death of Diederick, ascribed to the effect of
the shock upon a bad heart, had discouraged Ballin
and Kirby, and exalted Hartwell. Diederick had
been Hartwell's law partner. Wasn't it natural to
assume that Diederick knew Hartwell's side of the
case? And if Diederick's arrival had been of ben-
efit to Ballin's circle, and if upon his death the ad-
vantage had reverted to Hartwell, wasn't it reasona-
ble that Diederick had come to Bermuda to reenforce
Ballin? Why not? Diederick had formed the hasty
conclusion that Hollister was in Hartwell's employ,
and had thereupon shown his instant enmity. It
was unquestionably Hartwell who had assaulted
Diederick in the hotel corridor. And that was ob-
viously to prevent Diederick from fulfilling his ex-
pressed intention of speaking to Mrs. Cloud. And
why shouldn't Diederick have spoken to her? Why
should Hartwell have attempted to dissuade him by


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 317
unless you're quite willing. Just walk down the
Serpentine with me—we'll be gone half an hour at
the latest."
She wavered.
"It's so cool to-night—"
"Would you let that keep you from relieving Ned
of his troubles?"
Ballin's cousin stopped wavering.
"You're serious, Mr. Hollister?"
"Perfectly."
She glanced about her.
"I left a wrap down-stairs—at the dining-room
door, I think—"
"I'll get it!" said Hollister. "I know the one!"
He was across the lobby and back again in a jiffy,
bearing a soft satin evening cloak, which he placed
o>«er her shoulders with sufficiently exaggerated po-
liteness to satisfy himself, yet without sufficient ten-
derness to deserve a rebuke, although Mrs. Cloud
weighed the niceties of the courtesy, and seemed
dubious.
"Now I" he said. "Shall we start?"
He was palpitant at the outset; and by the time
they passed the wood-carver*s shop on the road to
the cricket grounds, he was intoxicated by his own
sensations. The world lay shadowy and silvery and


318 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
ghost-like before him; the path was a wide ribbon of
platinous whiteness, coal-black where bodies of trop-
ical foliage stood massed against the moon. The
air was clear and vinous, and saturated with the
precise volume of the damp of night to accentuate
the fragrance of roses and honeysuckles from near-
by trellis and garden. From afar the drumming of
native banjos, and the sound of boisterous native
voices, muffled and muted by the distance, added the
final touch of unreality, and of romance. Hollis-
ter's eyes glistened, and he inhaled mightily.
“I’ve been trying so hard to see you,” he said, for-
getful of his covenant. “It’s been a long time—ter-
ribly long.”
She was also absent-minded, else she had enjoined
him for the moral effect, without intending to hold
him to the letter of the law.
“Of course you realize that after Edith acted so
queerly, I had to make her tell me the truth. She
didn't want to—I made her.”
Hollister inclined his head. ,
“And of course you believe her implicitly?”
“Implicitly.” -
He wasn't unprepared for that verdict; still, it dis-
appointed him.


ve been trying so hard to see you”
“I’
_…__--_-_ae） ----_|------|---_-）--→ → → _= --！！！！！！--|





320 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
impersonal demeanor required by his agreement.
He was both impressionable and ingenuous, and it
was almost beyond his endurance to surround himself
by the seductions of a Bermuda night, and attach
himself to the prettiest girl in all the Bermudas, and
yet keep his voice steady and his nerves flaccid and
quiescent. He looked at Ballin's cousin, and sighed
inaudibly, and reflected upon the futility of human
achievement.
"Well," he said, "I suppose you know what hap-
pened out on the veranda to-day?"
"My brother-in-law?"
"Yes. It's all over town by this time."
"How silly!" said Ballin's cousin. "Hasn't any-
body ever been prostrated by the heat and—and ex-
ertion before?"
Hollister had also heard that specious rumor.
"Nobody's hinted that Mr. Cloud hadn't exerted
himself, then?"
"Why, no."
"And nobody's suggested that he's the only per-
son in six months who's been prostrated by the
heat?"
"Why—?"
"Because," said Hollister, "neither one of those
reasons is within a thousand miles of the truth," He


322 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"It happens that I was there on the veranda,"
said Hollister. "And I'd been there for some time.
And if Mr. Cloud really was prostrated by the heat,
don't you think it's rather curious that the minute he
picked out to be prostrated in was the exact minute
he was threatened by Mr. Hart well?"
"Threatened? That's twice you've used that
word! How could Mr. Hartwell threaten him?"
"I'm not absolutely sure how he could—all I'm
sure of is that he did! And I've figured out what
the matter is. I've figured out that Ned and Pete
and your brother-in-law have kept a good many de-
tails away from you in the hope that they could
squirm out of their troubles without bothering you
needlessly. But it's only a matter of time now—and
perhaps Ned and I don't agree about you. Perhaps
he thinks you can't stand bad news. / think you can
rise above it. And it's worth taking a chance—"
Ballin's cousin was somewhat less conventionally
dignified.
"Mr. Hollister, you—you needn't prolong it—if
you're going to say anything unpleasant."
"I certainly won't prolong it a second. You're
the cause of the whole hullabaloo. And if I only
had—"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 323
At length Ballin's cousin urged: "Yes, Mr. Hol-
lister?"
"I can't say "it!" he blurted. "It's too nervy!
You think it over for yourself—it's centered in your
estate! It's money!"
Ballin's cousin exclaimed aloud.
"In my estate?"
"Yes—your husband's, I mean. Mr. Cloud and
Mr. Hartwell are the executors, aren't they? If you
can get somebody to search into it for you, I think
you'll find out a queer state of affairs. Important
things are being kept away from you—because the
men who are your friends are afraid you'd be
shocked, or—something. And what knocked out
Mr. Cloud was a reference by Mr. Hartwell."
"But I don't understand—that was your theory
yesterday, but it can't be so bad as that—"
"So if you want to save yourself and every one
else a vast amount of pain—"
Unconsciously they had veered from the high-
way, and taken the path to the terraces which over-
looked the Great Sound and Agar's Island and the
Aquarium, and as they approached the familiar wall,
with its chevaux-de-frise of bamboo and Spanish
bayonet and oleander, they heard voices, excited


324 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
voices, a man's and a woman's, on the lower lawn.
Ballin's cousin touched Hollister's arm.
"There's some one there! Let's go back before
they hear us I"
"Wait!" objected Hollister. "Listen!"
"Mr.Hollister!"
"Sh-h-h!" he whispered impatiently. "Isn't that
Hartwell? Isn't it?"
"Mr. Hollister, if you don't—"
"And Miss Rexford!" He seized her hand and
drew her into the shadows. "Hush! Please!"
She struggled furiously.
"It's despicable! It's horrid! I'm—"
From the lawn Hartwell's big laugh boomed
ominously, and was cut short as though in a sudden
recurrence of discretion.
"And you call yourself a first-class detective I" he
sneered.
"Yes—and I am!" retorted Miss Rexford's
throaty contralto.
Ballin's cousin was suddenly tense and rigid; and
the hand she had laid on Hollister's arm tightened
around his relaxed biceps. In the pale light he could
see that the pupils of her eyes were dilated, and that
her lips had parted in horror. Quite logically, he
was gratified at her display of emotion, which was,


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 325
in effect, a corroboration of what he had failed to
persuade her; but in the next moment he was over-
whelmingly sympathetic. At last he had stumbled
upon a line of communication which might lead to
vindication.
The voices grew in volume and clearness, and
slowly became less distinct. Hartwell and Miss
Rex ford were walking up and down the lawn as
they debated. Ballin's cousin had allowed the satin
cloak to slip from her shoulders; Hollister recovered
it carefully and replaced it, but she was too intently
thrilled to note the attention.
"I might have known you wouldn't come through
without a rake-off," said Hartwell contemptuously.
"You never intended to play square, did you? Your
word's as good as your bond—just about!"
"That isn't it," said Miss Rexford shakily. "That
isn't it, and you know it! You lied to me at the
beginning, and you've lied to me ever since! You
haven't a decent thought in your head—you haven't
a truthful word in your mouth—"
There was a short cynical laugh from Hartwell.
"A hell of a moralist you are! Two wrongs make
a right—that's your argument!" His voice changed
sharply. "Well, are you going to come through, or
aren't you? Now's your chance! And you better


326 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
think twice, Edith—if / get in dutch, you're in just
as deep—just as deep! And there'll be this differ-
ence—I'll have to pay through the nose to get out;
but I can pay, and I can get out—and you can't!
Think it over!"
"I'm not thinking about myself, Jim—"
"Oh, you're not! Great stuff, this golden rule!
Went to church last Sunday, didn't you? I suppose
you weren't thinking of yourself when you flim-
flammed Hollister into a bow-knot right in this same
place, were you? Or when you edited Mrs. Cloud's
correspondence for her? Or when you lied to the
judge—or when you boosted me to Mrs. Cloud!
Oh, no! An extra hundred a week—that's all you
thought about! Come down to earth—how much
more do you want?"
Hollister almost cried out at the agony of his
biceps. Mrs. Cloud had found a hitherto undiscov-
ered muscle.
"I don't want anything more—I'm simply telling
you I can't go on."
"That sounds fine and heroic, doesn't it? Very
dramatic-^brave Joan of Arc! Well, you will go
on!"
"No, I won't!"





.WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 327
"You don't seem to remember that I can make
you!"
"I—you can't!"
"Oh, I can't, can't I? You'll damn' soon know
whether I can or not!" His tone altered again, and
became wheedling, patronizing. "Look here, Edith
—don't be a fool! After we've deported Phil Hol-
lister, it won't take us two weeks to close the deal.
And he's wise, all right, all right! They'll have him
on the carpet to-night, if they haven't already, and
they'll shoot him back to New York so fast he won't
know whether he's afoot or horseback! And then
we'll straighten out for the finish. And there's a
good bit in it for you—"
"I don't want anything more, Jim! Nothing you
could give me would make any difference now. I
can't go ahead!"
The pair halted not twenty feet distant, and Hol-
lister held his breath. The girl at his side was still
motionless, torpid; but he feared that her self-con-
trol might desert her at any instant—and this was
no time to lose a single sentence.
"You aren't thinking I'd double-cross you?" said
Hartwell, with a fair approximation of genuine feel-
ing. "I'm not that kind of man, Edith. I wouldn't


328 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
double-cross both parties to one deal! What's got
into.you? You aren't jealous of Mrs. Cloud—"
"But I am jealous, Jim! I'm jealous because
she's got what I haven't!"
"What's that?"
"A decent man who loves her!"
Hartwell laughed mockingly.
"Edith, you can't work any of that pious stuff
off on me! You're no angel of purity! Cut it out,
and be sensible! I've told you five hundred times
that after this has blown over, you get what you
want. Any apartment in New York you may select,
and—"
"Don't, Jim!—don't!"
"Oh! Lady Disdain, aren't you? So you're off
that, too?"
"Please don't, Jim!"
"Well, what is it? What's the idea? What are
you driving at? What's your price?"
Miss Rexford's voice was slightly choked.
"It's been such a rotten, rotten game, Jim—all the
way through! I didn't know it was going to be like
this! You lied to me, Jim! If you hadn't, you
know I wouldn't have got into this! You said Mr.
Cloud was crooked—you said the boys were
crooked! I thought you meant that—then! I


330 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
over one way or the other—and if we can keep her
away from Hollister until Saturday, when he's leav-
ing, and then start the big drive, we'll cash in!
That's positive! And then—everything just as I've
promised! I wouldn't let money stand in the way!
Diederick's gone, and I've got the goods on all the
rest of 'em. All you've got to do is to boost, boost,
boost—"
"B-but—I don't want to!"
"Look here," said Hartwell, exasperated. "Damn
it! I'll pay in advance! I'll give you a check to-
night! I'll—"
"But that isn't it, Jim. I—"
"Well, what in the devil do you want?"
"I don't want anything, except—I want to feel
clean! And I can't go on—I can't! It's too much
for me—too much! She's been so wonderful—"
"She! Listen, Edith! Look up here! Look at
me! That's more like it! Now, listen! You've
got a fool notion that she's a good woman, haven't
you? If I can prove that you're dead wrong—that
I know this crowd from A to Z—that not one of
'em is any straighter than—than—"
"Than you are?"
"Let it go at that. If I can prove that to you—?"
"You couldn't ever—"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 331
"I said, if I could—would you go ahead? Or at
least keep your mouth shut?"
"Jim, I told you—I don't know what to do—I
don't want to give you up; and yet—"
"Listen to me, Edith! I've been holding this for
an ace in the hole! Don't you know why Hollister
was so flabby when we went to court after Diederick
was hurt? You know he didn't lay a finger on
Diederick up there! Where was Diederick—what
part of the floor? How did Hollister get there so
quick? How was it he got there at all when he
wasn't in his own room, or down-stairs? He didn't
fly there, did he? Who else disappeared about the
same time, and didn't show up during all that jum-
ble—and came down later, talking about a nap!
Get it?"
Hollister, crazed with anger, was trembling so
violently that he anticipated instant discovery. Bal-
lin's cousin was as carved stone. Both of them,
however, sensed the fact that they would profit by
remaining silent.
"Jim—why—why, Jim—"
"I tell you, I've got 'em all four ways from the
jack! If any of 'em opens his head, Cloud goes up
the river! He knows it—they all know it! And
that pair of kids can't wriggle out!^ They can't


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 333
"Because you've fallen for that mealy-mouthed
girl?"
"She isn't, Jim—she's—"
"/ know what she is—and I've told you! And
still you'll—why, you lying little stool-pigeon! The
last time—you know damned well you can't stop
me—are you going to stick by me, or aren't you?"
"N-no, Jim, I'm not—" The sentence ended with
a gasp. Then, after a moment: "Jim—Jim, dear—
you—you wouldn't do that!—Put it up, Jim—
please—"
Hartwell laughed scornfully.
"I thought I'd just show you. Here's where it
lives—see? In my hip-pocket, right where it's
handy. See how quick I can get it out? Seven lit-
tle messenger boys—little .38's. If you stick by me,
and we flivver, the worst I can get is a suit for con-
spiracy—and they can't prove it. But if you don't,
and I'm in trouble, Edith—dear, sweet Edith; help-
ful little Edith; you little lying hypocrite!—I've got
this for both of us. Get that? If you turn me down
cold, and go to Ned Ballin, I know just as well as
you do what'll happen. But don't fool yourself—
they'll never have the laugh on me! When I'm
licked, I'll make my own exit—and I'll have com-
pany, too! Look at me! Ever catch me bluffing?


336 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Take it easy, old lady—there!" After a very
brief hiatus: "Damn it, you're not responsive
enough to break any world's records."
"What?"
"You might show a little enthusiasm without
straining yourself. Or do you save up all your pep
for histrionics?"
"What do you mean, Jim?"
"Nothing—oh, nothing! Only you were so proud
of the way you worked up your scene with Phil Hol-
lister—I was just wondering why you couldn't act
for me, too. It looks as though your fake kisses are
a lot better than the real thing. Try the fake ones
on me for a change."
"You're cruel, Jim—always."
"That's all you understand. You're as danger-
ous as a hell-cat. If I don't cage you, you'll claw!"
"Please, Jim—"
"Well?"
"Kiss me just once—"
Again a pause.
"This seems to be your pet spot for asking men to
kiss you, Edith. Haven't missed yet, have you?"
"Jim! I loathe you—"
"No, you don't—you're crazy about me. Here's
another! Now—is it all settled?"


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 337
"I—think—it—is."
"And you'll stay with me to the limit?"
"No, Jim."
There was a loud exclamation of revulsion.
"What in hell do you mean?"
"Don't strike me, Jim—I'm not afraid of you!
I can't let you go ahead."
"You can't let me—"
"I can't let you marry her."
"But, you idiot, I've told you that won't make
any difference between us—"
"Jim! Jim! I want you myself! She can't
have you—she can't! I won't let her!"
"Gread God, haven't I told you what it's for?
You don't think I care a plugged nickel about her,
do you? / want that money!"
"But it can't be—"
Hartwell's voice rose.
"When I'd send Cloud to Ossining rather than
let loose my grip, do you think I'll let you stand in
the way?"
"You'll have to, Jim."
"I will not! I—"
"You can't have her. I'll tell—"
"You will, will you!"
"Jim—don't! You're hurting me! You—"


338 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Will you promise—to keep your mouth shut?"
he panted. Her response was choked and strangled.
"Answer me—yes or no?"
"J-Jim—oh, don't—!"
"Yes or no!"
"Don't—don't—"
"Yes or no! Answer me, or, by God, I'll answer
for you!"
"N-no, Jim—"
There was a rustling in the grass, and the echo of
a swinging blow, and a scream in crescendo.
And Hollister was through the hedge.
The moon had chosen this juncture to slip modestly
behind a veil of drifting clouds, but the bulk of the
man Hartwell was sharply silhouetted against the
silvered waters of the Great Sound. Before he
could lift his hands, or brace himself, Hollister was
upon him in a smashing rush which carried both men
heavily to earth, rolling and tumbling down the de-
clivitous pitch to the lower terrace and the decaying
sea-wall. There they struggled passionately, and
struggling, fought upward to. their feet, and so,
locked tight together, buffeted and strained. In the
first instant of conflict Hollister realized that he had
met no weakling; that he had come to quarters with


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 339
a man heavier and perhaps nervously stronger than
himself; but he also realized in a lightning flash of
intuition that Hartwell hadn't staying power. Hol-
lister knew that in two minutes, or three minutes, or
five minutes at most, he himself would be bruised
and battered certainly, but still strong, still fighting;
and so he battled doggedly, silently, reserving
always that precious last ounce of strength which
he should need, and use.
His gorge revolted at the physical contact, even as
he clung to Hartwell, and clinched, and wrestled.
Once the lawyer's right arm tore free, and his big
fist found its mark, clean and true, and Hollister
staggered and felt the turf undulating in the motion
of great waves at sea, and felt sparks in his eyes;
but the cool air revived him as he pounded his way
doggedly into another clinch. And once, in turn, he
drove his man to his knees, but Hartwell was up and
in again, heedless of punishment, and giving blow
for blow. And then the two were flung far apart
by the might of their own strength, and Hollister,
as he caught his balance, saw Hartwell's hand go to
his pocket, and saw the gleam of diffused light on
polished metal. He laughed and rushed again. He
knew his safety! The revolver wasn't even loaded!
But as he crashed into Hartwell, hammering at his





344 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
cle, Hollister sat up. His head was reeling, and un-
less some one had lent him active aid, he couldn't
have remained even partly independent. The air of
the sea invigorated him. He breathed experimen-
tally. He breathed in great gulps. He turned his
head.
The two girls were regarding him fearfully; and
out of the wealth of his pride, he compelled a smile
to hearten them.
"I—he must have—blackjacked me," said Hol-
lister.
"Mr. Hollister—there's no hurry! Please don't
sit up! Wait!"
"I'll wet the handkerchief again!"
"Lie down until you're stronger!"
"Please do what she tells you to, Mr. Hollister."
"I'm all right." Indeed, he was able to see them
almost clearly. ,
"Don't try to stand up!"
"Mr. Hollister—you mustn't!"
"I'm all right," he insisted.
But he was no sooner on his feet than he began
to sway perilously; and regardless of his self-esteem,
he was glad to feel the renewed assistance of his two
companions. Even then he wouldn't consent to re-
main stationary; and so, steadied by Miss Rexford


346 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Yes, he did. Oh, I thought—you were so
white, and so still—"
"The next time I see him," said Hollister, in a
tone which was singularly emotionless, "one of us
is likely to quit living. That's three items—" He
tripped, and recovered himself. "How long was I—
out?"
"Oh, ever so long. Edith and I—"
"Is she hurt? Is she?"
"No—no. You were in time."
"I wasn't sure—it seems a century since—I left
you."
"Poor boy!" said Ballin's cousin softly. "You
poor boy!"
"To have died—and come to life again—there?"
Ballin's cousin looked out across the Sound.
"I'm hating myself so, Mr. Hollister—"
"Why should you?"
"I've been so unjust to you—"
"Have you?"
"Haven't I?"
"But everything was so confused—I'm satisfied
if you're sure now that I didn't—" He broke off
and compressed his lips.
"That you didn't do what?"
"I've forgotten what I was going to say."


348 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"It was right here," he said, "that you and I
started to be friends—and it was here that Miss
Rexford and I—mixed things up—and—"
"And it's here," she said, subdued, "that you've
showed me how brave and strong you really are—"
"And right where we are," he went on, hardly
above his breath, "I began to—to love you—and
I've loved you ever since—"
To his amazement she interrupted him. And the
manner of her interruption was a source of vastly
greater amazement. She put up her hand and placed
a sweet restraint upon his mouth.
"Not now," she whispered. "Oh, not now! Not
until you've—"
But Hollister, whose innate stubbornness was
magnified a thousandfold by the aching across his
temples, had conceived an intention, and he didn't
have the preventive energy to quibble about it. He
bent toward Ballin's cousin and swept her into his
arms, and kissed her quickly and thoroughly and de-
vouringly; kissed her while she clung to him in limp
and despairing weakness; kissed her until there were
untold depths in her eyes, and she was unresisting.
"Now," said Hollister shakily, as he freed her,
"where's that carriage?"


XXVI
W. from a troubled sleep with the un-
comfortable fancy that his eyeballs were be-
ing prodded by Hartwell's thumbs, Hollister was
solaced by the discovery that the phenomenon was
due to the sunlight shining in his face. He yawned
and stretched himself cheerfully, emitted a very
heartfelt and entirely pardonable groan as he inad-
vertently bumped his skull against the headboard of
the bed, and finally composed himself to enjoy his
new sensation of relief and freedom from mystery.
It was as clear as crystal now—all but two details
—and Ballin had sworn to reveal those to him this
morning, since last night Hollister hadn't reached
the hotel in fit condition to receive explanations.
Furthermore, no one had bothered much about him
after he had once been interned in his room with a
bandage on his head and spirits of ammonia inside
of him. The general public had interested itself
chiefly in Mr. Hartwell, who, in an extraordinarily
disheveled condition, had come in hurriedly at half
past nine; and in fifteen minutes had gone out again,
349


352 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
an eye on Frances ever since her husband died; he
was a trustee, you know—he was decidedly for it.
So we advertised, and by and by we got Edith
Rexford. As it turns out, Edith Rexford's a sort of
society detective, just as you thought—only we
didn't know that then, of course—but she had a
wonderful appearance and some wonderful refer-
ences—they ought to have been; she wrote 'em her-
self—and she was so far ahead of anybody else who
applied that Frances engaged her. Jim had engaged
her for private reasons first, and sent her over to
Frances to get the companion's job. Hello! Here's
your waiter. What are you having?"
Hollister cogitated.
"Oh, half a grapefruit and some oatmeal and a
young steak—with French fried potatoes—and—
and waffles and a pot of coffee."
"You are ill, aren't you?" Ballin went to the
door and gave the order. "Where was I? Oh, yes.
Well—we didn't know, of course, that Jim had her
working for him. She was to keep him posted on
anything we might do that would tend to break his
hold on Mr. Cloud—just a general all-around spot-
ter, she was. All right. Jim came to me one day
and said he wanted to marry Frances. Naturally I
began to tell him what J thought of him—and he said


354 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
you'd told me about your future, the idea came to
me— Now, you see, if I put any obstacles in Jim's
road, he could absolutely send my uncle to a term in
Sing Sing. I had to sacrifice either my uncle or
Frances unless she just happened to marry some-
body else. There wasn't any great rush, you under-
stand; and Frances always liked your type, and I
knew she'd like you—and I knew I couldn't hope to
get a finer man than you are—and I thought if you
two were thrown together a lot—"
"Holy smoke!" His lips formed the voiceless
words. His eyes were saucer-like.
"And she was over at the Aspinwall, and you
were flat broke. So I turned you down flat that
night, Phil, and went home and doped out a plan—
to invent a job that would sound like some sort of
war service, or diplomacy, or commercial reporting,
and call for traveling—and advertise so that you'd
fill the bill exactly—and I got Josh Brown to handle
the details for me—and you know your side of
that."
"Zowie!" gasped Hollister, pop-eyed.
"And we were going to think up so many assign-
ments for you that you'd never suspect, but the
trouble was that we couldn't be consistent and effi-
cient at the same time. Well, then Pete came—and
■


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 355
went into the thing with me, and before we'd made
up any plausible sort of schedule for you, you met
us at the Aspinwall. Instantly, Jim was suspicious.
By now, I'd begun to see through Edith Rexford,
and she knew I was getting dubious, and she'd told
Jim. At first he was afraid of you because he
thought you were my sleuth-hound to get the goods
on him and to counteract Edith—and secondly be-
cause for several days I'd praised you so extrava-
gantly to Frances that Jim tumbled to the fact that
I was more than commonly interested in having you
two get along together. And he was paying Edith
to see that Frances didn't get many attentions from
other men—because as soon as she was married, or
even engaged, he'd lose his grip on my uncle."
"Holy mackerel!" said Hollister. "Give me
something to smoke!"
"So, as it appears, Jim saw you later that night
and pumped you, and made up his mind that he was
right in his suspicions. So he tried to buy you
off—"
"But i f he had bought me off, you could have got
somebody else—"
"There's more to it than that, Phil! Jim was out
to show me that he could control the situation from
any angle. He was out to show me that he could


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 357
looked very thoroughly yourself. He'd already
kicked about losing his wallet. The waiter was to
tip off Edith that he'd made the plant; and after
that, she was to report a loss. She wouldn't report
it, you see, until it was certain that the plant was
made, and that you'd be caught. Then she reported
what Jim had told her to lose—a diamond ring.
That was a bad slip on Jim's part, because it takes
a pretty clever pickpocket to steal a ring off some-
body's hand—and that left 'em only the theory that
you'd been burgling rooms. Of course, Jim's wal-
let was the big evidence."
"Yes—it was," said Hollister reminiscently.
"That bar-pin must have fooled you—as a matter
of fact, Frances gave it to Edith—" *
"I know that."
"And the crooked chambermaid stole it—actually
stole it from Edith's room—and lost it in yours!"
"Good lord! What makes you believe that?"
"Because they pinched her the next day for for-
getting to put somebody's cuff-links back where she
found 'em, and she admitted it—she didn't admit
she'd been in cohoots with the waiter—but I'll guar-
antee she will when I want her to. She did admit
stealing that pin from Edith, and swore she lost it,
she didn't know where. Pete and I got that out of


360 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
partner for a good many years, and first and last
they must have put through some pretty raw deals
together. Diederick knew enough and guessed
enough about this one to get a pretty fair leverage;
and Diederick was ill and tired, and he didn't have
much money, so the day before Jim left New York,
Diederick started in to see if he couldn't blackmail
him. Jim ducked, and Diederick needed some ready
cash, so he chased Jim down here to prod him at
close range. He'd heard Jim speak of you and of
Edith, and he got the names twisted. He thought
you were Jim's watch-dog. So there's where your
row started. And this is how Diederick got hurt—
he came up to the veranda just as you went in after
lunch. Jim saw him, and went out fast to flag him.
They had some conversation, and Jim dared Dieder-
ick to do anything radical. And Diederick went
straight to the office, where they told him Frances
was in her room, and he went up intending to tell
her the whole story. Jim caught him—and got out
of it temporarily because you'd been careless enough
to wallop Diederick earlier, and say you'd do worse
the next time. And—I don't suppose I need to say
that Edith took the opportunity to push you in a
little deeper by telling Frances about your evening at
Fairyland.”


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 361
“But, Ned Why did you and Pete make such
a fuss that first day you were here about my telling
Mrs.-telling Frances what I'd found out about
Miss Rexford?”
Ballin shrugged his shoulders.
“I thought you grasped that, Phil. We were do-
ing our best to stop Jim before he could make too
much progress. And if the facts had ever got to
Frances, she certainly would have done anything in
the world to save my uncle's skin, even to promising
to marry the beast—I mean Jim—and if we'd ham-
pered Jim too much he'd have had my uncle's scalp
in ten seconds. We'd have defended him to the end,
but it would have cost us a pile, and in the long run
we couldn't have saved him. So there you are And
we had to make you think he was attacking you
under a misapprehension, because we didn't know
yet whether you were getting along well with Fran-
ces or not. We couldn't afford to take a chance on
you just at that stage. We couldn't let you suspect
too much—or you might have quit right there. And
besides, you did disturb me because you talked so
queerly about your job. We thought you might
have spoken about it carelessly—and if Frances had
known that, the jig was up for all of us—because
she'd have ordered you off, and then we wouldn't


362 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
have had you to play against Jim. And we couldn't
have stepped in to clear you without telling the com-
plete story—and then she'd probably have gone
right to Jim and agreed to whatever he asked."
"But—aren't you going to give me the real rea-
son, Ned? What's the basis of it?"
Ballin drew a long breath.
"When Frances' husband died, he left an estate
of some four hundred and sixty thousand dollars,
net. The income was to go to Frances for five years,
and after that, if she hadn't married again, she was
to get the principal. If she had married, she was
to get a hundred thousand on her wedding-day, and
the remainder was to go to my uncle.
"Now to Mr. Cloud Jim looked like a pretty solid
citizen—he's big and imposing and a corking good
blow-hard. And Jim likes to be with men he can
dominate. So they went around a lot together—
they came down here once—and eventually Jim had
my uncle sewed up tight. My uncle thought he was
a financial wizard—always making clever deals in
Wall Street—all'that sort of bunk. And the more
Jim lied, the more my uncle got infected with the
get-rich-quick idea.
"Jim had to go south one time, and because he is
usually pretty prudent, he made my uncle sign an


366 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
"Yea, Phil. I can't blame you for what you
must be thinking—"
"Whoa! This is my monologue! Honest, Ned,
that was a wild scheme! You'll have to admit that
yourself! It's worked out pretty well for you—"
"It's you I'm thinking of now."
"So am I. Under the circumstances, if you're
sure you wouldn't have objected to me anyway—"
"For Frances? Phil, I certainly would not. Why,
that's what decided me! I'd always thought so
much of you—"
"But now that Miss Rexford's given up Hartwell
—well, your uncle's still in danger, isn't he?"
"I'm afraid so," said Ballin gloomily.
"And if Frances is married, he'll be safe?"
"Positively."
"Hartwell can't touch him?"
"Not after that."
"And you still think you're willing to have me
marry her?"
"Yes, Phil! Old man—for the love of mud—"
"I'm going to, that's all," said Hollister placidly.
"Everything is fixed. Don't rip around so! Sit
down and watch me eat!"
And he applied himself vigorously to his cold and
sodden breakfast.


XXVII
R. JAMES HARTWELL, in whose person
M the governor and council and the provost
marshal had more than a superficial interest, had
disappeared. Not on a north-bound steamship, for
none had cleared at night; not on a south-bound
steamship, for none had departed the port. Nor
had Mr. Hartwell taken refuge on any of the ves-
sels in the anchorage of the Great Sound, off Gray's
Bridge, and Buck Island, or in Castle Harbor by
St. George's, or off Whalebone and Tobacco Bays
on the North Shore. At half past nine at night he
had simply walked out of the Hotel Hamilton, and
down Queen Street, and vanished utterly.
But the colonial associates of the race which nur-
tured Sherlock Holmes have inherited from the
common ancestry that peculiar determination, that
inflexible perseverance, which makes its progress
as unexciting and as inevitable as the march of the
tides and the lapse of time. A few unprepossess-
ing men in unfashionable clothes went out-of-doors,
and scattered to the four corners of the islands, a
367


368 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
subaltern in a bare office spoke leisurely over his
telephone, and straightway the Bermudas were in-
visibly walled by a barrier somewhat less penetrable
than steel and iron. Mr. James Hartwell—43, 12
stone, 5 ft. 11 in., dark, slightly bald, grayish hair,
grayish mustache, black eyes, good teeth, smallish
ears close to the head, last seen at 9:30 p. m. at the
corner of Front and Queen Streets, dressed in a
light gray flannel suit, fedora-shaped Panama hat,
tan shoes, carrying a black leather hand-bag—Mr.
James Hartwell of New York—was wanted. And
since the only way Mr. James Hartwell could have
removed himself from Bermuda was by boat, and
since he hadn't done so, the men in unfashionable
clothes coincided, without exulting, in the belief that
they ought to pick him up in about twenty-four
hours; for since Bermuda is a colony of hardly more
than twenty-five square miles, and admits but a
thousand of population to the mile, a census of aliens
is a comparatively easy matter. And in the mean-
time, owners and commanders of boats were politely
reminded of the statute concerning whomsoever shall
harbor, or give aid or comfort to a fugitive from
justice.
Mr. Hartwell, it was conceded, had made the
usual error of those who gamble with the laws. He


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 369
had confided too much to a woman who loved him.
And, given time and opportunity, any such woman
becomes a betrayer for one of three reasons: because
she is naturally talkative, because she has ceased to
love, or because she has developed a conscience. Mr.
Hartwell had entrusted to Miss Rexford the secrets
of his guilt in the legal provinces of fraud, of tres-
pass, of breach of trust, of conspiracy, of black-
mail, and of felonious assault, which had suddenly
become merged in the graver crime of murder. That
last offense was what would swiftly terminate the
hitherto successful career of Mr. James Hartwell—
if apprehended.
And there was little doubt that he would be ap-
prehended. Twenty-five thousand people, inflamed
not so much by the colonial reward as by the excite-
ment of the chase itself, set fifty thousand eyes to
the task; and innocent middle-aged strangers,
equipped with grayish mustaches and a tenth of
a ton of avoirdupois, found it expedient to remain
indoors, and read Tom Moore's poems until the
quest was over.
By noon of the first day, a native Bermudian of
chocolate tinting, a happy-go-lucky longshoreman
with more thirst than sagacity, paid for his three-
penny brandy with a twenty-dollar gold piece. An


370 whAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
hour later the governor and council, the provost
marshal and the rural constabulary knew that Mr.
Hartwell had been ferried out last night to the five-
masted schooner William and Mary, at anchor off
Ireland Island, that he had stayed half an hour on
board, and returned to shore.
At mid-afternoon, a frightened master of craft,
denying under oath all knowledge of the incrim-
inating circumstances, related how a gentleman had
unexpectedly come aboard, explained his pressing
need for silence in the manner of his going—the
gentleman had unfolded a narrative which would
have done honor to the ingenuity of the Brothers
Grimm—and paid two hundred dollars down. The
William and Mary was to sail Thursday for Liver-
pool via the Azores; she was to weigh anchor at
eleven o'clock at night, and she was to prepare to
receive the gentleman when he came out in a launch
from Bailey's Bay. The gentleman regretted that
he couldn't remain aboard now; he had other busi-
ness. The governor and council saw that Hartwell
had anticipated the searching of all vessels at anchor;
and the men in unfashionable clothes made an un-
ruffled pilgrimage to Bailey's Bay.
They pounced speedily upon another chocolate-
shaded native who owned a motor-dory, and had re-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 371
ccntly been buying brilliant gewgaws for a lady.
When his teeth had stopped chattering, this involun-
tary informer told how a handsome white gentleman
had driven up to his hovel very late at night in a
barouche in convoy of a Hamilton friend, and how
the Hamilton friend had said that the gentleman
was fair and square—and rich. The owner of the
motor-dory and the white gentleman agreed that the
gentleman was to be at the post-office dock at mid-
night Thursday, and pay fifty dollars to be taken
out to a ship. He had paid ten dollars down, and
driven away.
The barouche driver from Hamilton proved,
when tapped on the shoulder, to be a groveler. He
was a recanter and a jail-worshiper. He invoked
his ancestors, civilized, semi-civilized and barbarous,
to witness his overwhelming desire to tell everything
he knew. He confirmed the tale of the dory-owner,
and added that he had set down his benefactor at a
cross-road in the cave district where, a little way up
a wooded hill, there was an unoccupied cottage ad-
joining that of another negroid friend, to whom
he had recommended Hartwell. This had taken
place at about two in the morning.
The local authorities, knowing that Hartwell
couldn't get off the islands unless he swam to South


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 373
and release the gentleman and drive him to the
post-office near Bailey's Bay, where the gentleman
was to pay him fifty dollars. The gentleman was in
the cave now.
The men in unfashionable clothes—they were
police constables of the first grade—went back to
town, after posting a guard at the entrance to Green-
land, and furnished themselves with modern auto-
matic weapons and electric pocket torches. They
took Ballin and Hollister, with a bandage partly con-
cealed by his hat, to identify their man; and noth-
ing they could say was forcible enough to prevent
Mr. Cloud and Kirby and the two girls from char-
tering a victoria and trailing along behind. And
so, toward midnight, the caravan drew up at the
gates of Greenland Cave and Ballin pacified with
fair words and lawful money the freeholder, who
had been wailing bitterly because the explosion of a
single cartridge would destroy by concussion half
the fragile marvels among his precious stalactites.
From the tiny shack wherein he accepted daily the
shillings of sightseers, the freeholder turned the
switch which was to bathe the subterranean caverns
in white light. He unbarred the huge wooden door,
swung it inward and stepped back.
"I don't hardly b'lieve I'll go down," he said


374 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
doubtfully. "Clarence'll show you the way—Clar-
ence always was a good boy. Wasn't you, Clar-
ence?"
The negroid, who wasn't transported with joy at
his orders to proceed as skirmisher, chattered feebly.
He held back until he was reminded that ahead of
him there was only one revolver, and behind him
there were a dozen. Timidly he crossed the
threshold, and timidly he began the descent.
Hollister had seen several of the caves, and found
them essentially similar. Greenland was no novelty
to him, although this was his first sight of it. At
the outset there was a winding flight of steps quar-
ried out of solid limestone; steps hemmed in by
walls of glistening whiteness, damp and cold. A
draft of air, blowing briskly up to him, was dank
and devitalized, decarbonated. It was a typical cave
of the coral islands.
The negroid, faltering, was in the van; the group
of constables, quietly resolute, came next, treading
cautiously; Hollister and Ballin, as supernumera-
ries, brought up the rear. They arrived at a con-
crete platform by the brink of a frigid greenish
pool, bordered with stalagmites of dirty yellow;
over them the electric lamps shone with a chill of
their own; around them hung dead silence, broken


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 381
crystal clear, save for the deepening tint of pink
along the masonry.
Then suddenly Hartwell's ears were singing, and
his nerves shrieked. Government had discounted
the value of stalactites as against justice. Full half
of the protective wall between him and the posse
had melted out of existence. It went in a reverber-
ating roar, a shower of hail, a shattering crash as of
a thousand tons of glass; its fragments were slither-
ing down the slope and tinkling into the icy pool;
and Hartwell, realizing the insufficiency of his pali-
sades, made ready for his last shot.
And then, as though timed by the gods of evil for
the benefit of evil doers, the lights overhead flick-
ered, dimmed, flared up once, and slowly, slowly
went out. It was twelve o'clock. The men in un-
fashionable clothes had also forgotten a trifling de-
tail. The power company shuts down at midnight.
Hartwell stood up in the darkness, and felt his
way to the extreme limit of the narrow shelf on
which he had lodged himself. He knew that he was
now nearly opposite the mouth of the alley, and his
lips curved pleasantly. At the first glimmer of a
pocket torch he fired point-blank, and at the yell of
pain which followed, he sat down, chuckling quietly


382 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
to himself, and worked slowly toward the edge of
the lagoon. Bullets spat viciously around him, but
high—three or four feet high. The remainder of
the Iceberg went out in a thunderous explosion, and
Hartwell was in the midst of an avalanche of splin-
ters and bits of stone, and a spray of molten lead.
The air had sulphur in it and biting fumes.
It was his intention to gain, if he could, the
cement walk, to climb the stairs, and to make his
dash for liberty through the guards on the outside.
There would be few sentinels, if any, and probably
they would be unexpectant.
So that he crawledgingerly along the sides of the
slope a yard or two, crouched and fired at the flash
of powder across the lake. It was a good hit.
Hartwell winced as a bullet flattened itself par-
lously near his head; he ducked and scrambled rap-
idly along the ledge by which he had surmounted the
hill of limestone.
Footsteps reverberated near him; the officers had
separated, to throw a cordon around the lagoon.
Hartwell wriggled forward another yard, lost his
hold, slipped—and was flat on his feet on a hard
pavement, He had outflanked them! The next in-
stant a ray of golden light grazed his face, and he
fired twice at the center of it, and turned to run-


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 383
and was struggling in the grasp of a vigorous and
powerful man. *
In his own way, Hartwell was philosophical. His
regret at this epochal encounter was that his plans
had miscarried. He had coolly resolved to inflict as
much damage as he could, and to deny to any adver-
sary the glory of taking him alive. He knew that
he should never permit himself to be captured;
he knew that he should never investigate a prison
from the inside. He had never sincerely expected
to escape—not since he had heard the voices
in the cave at night. But he had counted on carry-
ing out his plans. There was, however, a heaven-
sent occasion to account for one more constable.
His ambition riveted itself upon this last accom-
plishment.
As he grappled with his agile opponent, he was
blinded by more light, and deafened by the shouting
from many throats. He recognized the distorted
features of the man who was wrestling with him.
He laughed harshly. Hands were striving eagerly
to pinion him. Hands were reaching for his wind-
pipe; hands were waylaying and tripping him. He
was surrounded, trapped, doomed.
In his way, Hartwell was a stoic philosopher. His
right arm swung free for a critical instant; he had


384 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
his choice—to account for one more of his enemies,
or to carry out his plans for himself. He couldn't
do both. His act was instantaneous. The muzzle
of the revolver went to his forehead. He said—
grunting in the excess of his strain—he said, as he
brought the weapon to his temple: "You win—Phil
—good luck I"
And pulled the trigger.


XXVIII
N the smoking-room of the Devonian, Peter
I Kirby was busily demolishing the wanton ex-
aggerations of a passenger who hadn't realized the
small man's antipathy to war liars; while Mr. Cloud,
taking his fun where he found it, was rapidly puff-
ing a fat cigar in benign certainty that when the
bugle blew he wouldn't be on deck anyway, so that
he might as well enjoy himself while he could.
In two steamer chairs on the promenade deck,
Ballin and Miss Rexford were talking animatedly.
Any keen analyst might have observed that Miss
Rexford was forcing her gaiety, and that Ballin
was singularly diffident about meeting her eyes. In
fact, he was charmingly boyish about it, and palpa-
bly shy.
Hollister and Ballin's cousin were leaning against
the starboard rail, looking southward, when they
weren't looking at each other, and causing femi-
nine passers-by to exchange nudges and theories.
“Remember what Tennyson wrote? Let's para-
phrase it,” said Hollister, sighing profoundly.
385


386 WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED
“There lies a terrace in Bermuda, lovelier
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.”
Ballin's cousin nodded approval.
"It's so beautiful and colorful,” she said. “Every
time I see it I'm thrilled all over again. And no two
people ever loved it as we do.”
Hollister extended his arm toward a curved har-
bor of cobalt blue.
“We're opposite Bailey's Bay—doesn't it seem to
you that we're leaving it much too fast? We didn't
come in at any such pace as this "
Ballin's cousin laughed.
“I always say that, Phil.”
Hollister ventured a glance over his shoulder.
“Wouldn't it be funny if Ned and Edith—”
“Not funny at all! She's a darling, Phill She's
just been—different. And—there was Mr. Hart-
well. He fascinated her.”
“True—true,” he granted. “But Ned deserves a
princess in disguise. He's had a tough time of it.”
“I wonder,” she said gravely, “how it would all
have come out if Ned had dared to tell me at the
very first.” -
“Don’t think of it! I probably shouldn't have
met you!”


WHAT HE LEAST EXPECTED 389
ter of the stairs she lifted her face to him, and he
kissed her.
"Excuse met" That was Kirby, assisting the
limp and dejected Mr. Cloud to the cabins. "Brace
up, Colonel—now for one short mad dash, and .
Quebec is ours I"
The coast clear, Hollister kissed her again.
"Hurry, 'Cesca—we'll watch it out of sight."
"How c-can I hurry?"
So that he liberated her unwillingly, and as she
sped forward to her stateroom, Hollister went on
deck, and, pausing to light his cigarette, spied Ballin
and Miss Rexford. They had reversed the order of
their procedure. It was now Miss Rexford who
kept her eyes to her lap.
Hollister sighed cheerfully, and went to his favor-
ite location at the rail. The sun was setting; the
low-lying islands were relentlessly defined against a
sky of piercing blue. Here and.there among the
trees a slash of white gleamed through the riotous
hues of poinciana and poinsettia and rose. The sea
was incredibly beryl and malachite and purple and
azure; out of it Bermuda sprang like a vision of the
lost island of Atlantis, an enchanted isle, whose
Caliban had gone forever.