NEDL TRANSFER
HN 3GSH 5
Uneasu
Street
ARTHUR
SOMERS
ROCHE


iD fes42








UNEASY STREET


OTHER BOOKS BY
ARTHUR SOMERS ROCHE
EYES OF THE BLIND, THE
LOOT
PLUNDER
RANSOM
SPORT OF KINGS, THE






()()()
ChiCOMERY FACE
CARRY THIS. PLEASE."
SHE SAID.
*THIS WAS A DIAMOND PIN.


Uneasy Street
By
Arthur Somers Roche
Illustrated by
James Montgomery Flagg

osmopolitan Book Orporation
New York
MCMXX


HARVARD
COLLEGE
blommt!
Copyright, 1920, by
COSMOPOLITAN Book CORPORATION
All rights reserved, including that of translation
into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian
PRINTED IN U.S.A.


TO
MY CHARMING WIFE





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
OPPOSITE
PAGE
“Carry this, please,” she said.
*This' was a diamond pin. .. . . . Frontispiece
opposite
“I'm no blackmailer, Mr. Baird." ..... 120
“Suppose I tell you I can put Rodney Baird
in jail ?” ............. 226
Eileen rose and dropped him a courtesy. .. 282


UNEASY STREET
M HE long mirror held a most presentable figure.
1 It was true that the collar of the coat did not
fit as snugly about the neck as Baird would have
wished, but one must not expect too much of ready-
to-wear garments if one can't take the time to per-
mit necessary alterations. Anyway, it was a mo-
ment to which he had looked forward for eighteen
months, and he would not be captious. Further-
more, ready-made though the suit might be, it un-
doubtedly fitted much better than any tailored gar-
ment that he might have had made at Donchester.
Of course, had he time, he'd go to one of the tailors
on the Avenue and be outfitted right.
He discovered a sardonic smile on the lips of the
man in the mirror. He'd better amend that last
wordless statement of his. Had he time and money,
he'd patronize the Avenue. He shrugged his
shoulders—noting, as he did so, that the collar
hunched a trifle and walked to the window. He
picked from a chair and tossed upon the bed a pair
of breeches and a blguse; upon the latter were the
two silver bars of a captain.
9


10
UNEASY STREET
He drew the chair close to the window and sat
down. Upon the sill he rested his elbows. Chin
in palms, he leaned forward through the open win-
dow. It was the last day of the last year of the
great war, but nature had been merciful to New
York. The air was but as crisp as one might ex-
pect on an October evening. But, had it been zero
weather, Baird would still have leaned through the
open window. Below-twelve stories below—was
Broadway!
New York's lamp was lighted to-night. Over in
Jersey, on Long Island, even to Connecticut, Baird
knew, the city's illumination was visible against the
sky. New York, with the passing of the war,
had come into her own again.
Baird sniffed the keen air greedily. His eyes
were avid for the electric displays. His ears drank
in the holiday roar from the streets below. It was
only seven o'clock, but already the suburbs had sent
their cohorts to throng Broadway. With cow-
belļs and horns, with harsh rattles and shrill whis-
tles, with confetti and feather ticklers, the crowds
swirled and eddied about Times Square.
It was a sight. Even to a man who had wit-
nessed Paris celebrating peace, it was a sight. For
this was something more than New York's annual
greeting to the new year; it was, Baird sensed, the
city's formal but joyous tossing-away of the bur-
den of war.
He withdrew from the window. Too bad to leave
New York when one had merely glimpsed it! But
ex-captains of the A. E. F. must look for work.


12 UNEASY STREET
this, anon, me boy. You're at the Tramby. It
will take you one minute to reach the street, ninety
seconds to find a taxi, and eleven minutes—in the
mob to-night—to reach the Chummy Club. We
await you."
“But I haven't any clothes—and who's 'we?” »
“We? Wait" Baird heard him call, “Eileen,
come here and tell Captain Baird how much you
love him!”
Baird waited a moment. Then, over the wire,
came a girl's voice.
“Captain Baird,” it said, “I'm to tell you how
much I love you."
“Well, tell me,” he laughed.
“Over the 'phone?" she asked.
“Did Jimmy tell you that I've just been dis-
charged and haven't had time to get any
clothes- "
“No; he didn't tell me that, but he's told me so
much about you. And he's been trying all day to
reach you. You'll be up here in fifteen minutes,
eh?”
Baird was rather dazed as he hung up the re-
ceiver. That Jimmy Ladd should have gone to
any trouble to locate him was in itself somewhat
surprising. True, Ladd and he had been quite
good friends, but he had assumed that their friend-
ship would cease upon discharge. For young Ladd
was an heir to millions, and he, Rodney Baird,
was a bookkeeper from the town of Donchester,
Massachusetts. Not that a bookkeeper wasn't as
good as anyone else, but, somehow or other, al-


UNEASY STREET
13
though laborers had won commissions and college
men had failed to do so, the war was over. Things
must return to the status quo ante.
He colored as he glanced in the mirror. Then
he berated himself for his pettiness. Jimmy Ladd
was a fine young chap who paid him the compli-
ment of wishing to introduce him to his women
friends. Jimmy had waved aside his protest that
he had no clothing with him. A lately discharged
officer was not supposed-away from his own home
town, too—to have evening clothes with him. And,
anyway, they could take him as he was, he told him-
self defiantly.
The defiant mood was still with him as he sur-
rendered hat and coat to the attendant at the
Chummy Club. He wore the least bit of a frown
as he advanced to the door of the main dining-room.
Tall, good-looking, well enough built for his figure
to defy the ready-made suit, there was that touch
of diffidence in his manner that sometimes indicates
modesty, but more often a self-consciousness that
is born twin to conceit.
They didn't have Chummy Clubs in Donchester.
As he glanced over the crowded room, Baird re-
membered the Donchester restaurant that had es-
sayed a cabaret. It had not lasted long. The city
council had threatened a revocation of the liquor
license, and the restaurant had meekly yielded to
Puritanism.
But if Donchester had thought that innocuous
cabaret harmful, what would Donchester think of
the performance going on here now? That girl with


14
UNEASY STREET
the auburn hair and the hot gray eyes, dancing with
the slim, red-cheeked youth! It would never do in
Donchester-he was sure of that.
The girl with the auburn hair passed him again.
He knew that she spoke to her immaculately
groomed partner. Doubtless she was calling atten-
tion to his clothing, so out of place among these
dinner jackets and tail coats. He looked swiftly
away.
And then some one pounded him on the back and
breathed fervent salutation into his ears. It was
the slim youth, the red-cheeked healthy-looking
companion of the girl with the auburn hair.
“I didn't know you in those clothes, Rod, and
I'll bet a cooky that you didn't know me. You
old son of a gun-gosh, but you are changed!
Long pants and lapels sure make a hero look like
a bookkeeper!"
It was an unfortunate phrase, and Baird's blush
grew more vivid. As though Ladd were far away,
he heard him go through the formalities of intro-
duction to the auburn-haired girl. He heard his
own voice stammering acknowledgment of his pres-
entation to Miss Eileen Elsing. Quite to his amaze-
ment, he found himself upon the dancing-floor, his
arm round Miss Eileen Elsing, her face quite close
to his. They had progressed three-quarters of the
way round the room before the girl spoke.
“Jimmy's a bit of an ass, isn't he?”
“Eh? I beg pardon,” stammered Baird.
“Oh, if he's that good a friend, I apologize,”
she said lazily. Her voice was languid, almost


UNEASY STREET
15
heavy, yet rich and vibrant, too. “But,” she went
on, "why did he warn me that you couldn't dance?”
“Kindness," replied Baird.
The girl glanced up at him. She was not short.
The upward glance, so close were her eyes, had
the effect on Baird almost of physical contact.
She was not over twenty-four, he decided. Sophisti-
cated as those eyes were, they held youth in them.
“Are all heroes mock-modest?” she asked. “You
dance extremely well, and are extremely well aware
of it.” Again her eyes roamed over his face.
“Thank you,” he murmured; "but I wasn't aware
of it."
“Oh, you're a bit clumsy about the new steps, but
-if you'd let me guide you— "
The gloved hand that rested upon his right arm
exerted a slight pressure. Immediately he found
himself half reversing and moving backward.
“You see,” she said. “With me to guide
you "
“Paradise," he muttered.
“Back with banality from war," she said.
“Couldn't you think of something newer?”
“But you wanted something, and I don't think
quickly," he retorted.
The music ceased. The dancers applauded for
an encore while the girl looked inquiringly at Baird.
He nodded, and she led him to the table where
Ladd now sat. There were others there, a Mrs.
Dabney and a Miss Boffert—the former a much-
rouged, plump brunette, and the other a rather
bulky girl. Also, there was Mr. Dabney, whose


16
UNEASY STREET
crisp mustache consorted ill with the black ribbon
from which suspended his eye-glasses.
Apparently they were conserving energy against
the later evening, for they had not been dancing.
Introductions were made with a casualness that
surprised Baird, accustomed to the stiff, somewhat
self-conscious formality of Donchester. Immedi-
ately they were made, Mrs. Dabney demanded the
attention of Jimmy Ladd, while her husband leaned
toward Miss Boffert. Baird settled himself in his
chair. He had read, in Sunday editions, of the
Chummy Club. He had heard Jimmy Ladd men-
tion it. Of course, he had known that it was not
strictly a club, that it was, at least, semipublic.
But that it should prove to be merely a restaurant
was something of a surprise.
The room—he judged correctly that there were
other rooms, private dining-rooms and the like-
held tables sufficient to accommodate perhaps two
hundred people comfortably. But to-night there
were half as many more here, seated at the tables
that were so closely jammed together, or moving
about upon the dancing-floor in the center of the
room.
Carnival was in the air. Uniforms predominated;
nevertheless, there was no lack of wine upon the
tables.
Watching the confetti being thrown, observing
the toy balloons which were batted around by the
enthusiastic merrymakers, listening to the ever-
increasing noise, Baird wondered how spontaneous
it all was—how much of it was due to alcohol, and


UNEASY STREET
17
how much to natural ebullience of spirit. For him-
self, the defiant resentfulness that had possessed
him when he entered the room had passed away. It
was without self-consciousness that he rescued a
balloon from Miss Elsing's auburn head and threw
it at a pretty blonde at the next table.
“And without a drink, either," commented the
girl.
were frownter into the ragine you, as
He looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“My Puritan friend”—she shrugged her shoulders
-"one could hardly imagine you, a moment ago,
able to enter into the spirit of this affair. You
were frowning, angry-
"Oh, not all that!” he protested. “I was looking
for Jimmy. The light hurt my eyes, and
“Why prevaricate? You are a Puritan, and
you were shocked when you came in here. Well,
I hardly blame you. To return from the trenches
and find—this.” She looked about her, her lips
faintly curled, her eyes, Baird sensed, a trifle hard,
“And now”—and she laughed mockingly—"you are
doing your best to seem a bit bored.”
“I'm not,” he said hotly.
“No? Are you really bored?".
“Of course not! –I'm having—a bully time.”
“I'm not, then, and I am bored,” she told him.
Her voice was the least bit petulant. “I warned
Jimmy that we shouldn't start out until after the
theater; but no—he wouldn't have it. Just back
from France and waste time in a theater! Still,
perhaps he isn't wasting time here."


18
UNEASY STREET
Her glance at Jimmy, leaning so closely toward
the pretty Mrs. Dabney, was explanatory of her
words. Baird could not help casting his eyes
toward Mrs. Dabney's husband. But if that gen-
tleman was conscious of the flirtation occurring be-
fore his eyes, he was not too concerned about it.
The dance-music struck up again. Miss Elsing
turned to Baird.
“Are you really a worshiper of the great god
Jazz,” she demanded, “or do you dance so well be-
cause you have no other accomplishments?”
It was a casual impertinence. To resent it would
be to dignify it too greatly. Yet he did resent it,
because it seemed to him that this girl recognized
him for what he was, a bookkeeper stealing a few
last hours before returning to his desk. She would
hardly, he felt, be as rude to some one in her own
class. Her own class! It was his own mental
phraseology, but, had she uttered it herself, he could
not have been more angry.
“Dancing bores me,” he said curtly.
“Me, too, Steve,” she said. “Let's get out of
here.” At his blank look, she laughed. “Oh, don't
be shocked again. This is New Year's eve. And
we're all to meet at the Central at twelve. If you
can't trust yourself, trust me.”
He rose with her. They drifted across the
dancing-floor together, and out by the check-room.
As she put on her wraps she glanced toward the
room they had just left.
“Too engrossed—both couples," she announced


UNEASY STREET
19
shortly. "They'll not miss us until it's time to
leave. Carry this, please."
“This” was a diamond pin. Little of jewelry as
Baird knew, he recognized the exquisite taste of the
ornament. About three inches long, nine diamonds
were set in platinum filigree. Five of the stones
weighed perhaps a carat apiece; the other four were
chips. But it was the lovely flawlessness of the
five larger stones that won Baird's admiration.
Pure white, they flashed in the electric lights. So
brilliantly did they gleam to the furtive eye of an
extremely white-faced gentleman about to surren-
der his coat and hat to the attendant that he
changed his mind.
“It's a beauty!” said Baird.
"It is effective," the girl admitted. “But I
shouldn't have worn it; the clasp is loose. And as a
rather dear-a funny little aunt-gave it to me I
should hate to lose it. So you take care of it.”
"I'll be most careful,” he laughed. He dropped
the trinket into his waistcoat pocket. The white-
faced gentleman drew a bit nearer to them. The
girl looked up at Baird. In her eyes was a certain
cool hardness.
“Please do," she said. “I should hate to ask you
to replace it.”
She did not notice his gasp as she preceded him
through the revolving door. Again that resentment
toward her possessed him.
Outside, the girl looked up at him. Her hand
slipped through his arm. She drew close to him.
The coolness, the hardness had gone from her eyes.


20
UNEASY STREET
She seemed, for the moment, confiding, friendly.
Her nearness exhilarated him. He forgot his re-
sentment completely. Three steps, and they were
swallowed up by the hilarious throng. So many
persons bumped against him that he ceased to notice
it. It was a very simple matter for the white-faced
gentleman to abstract from his waistcoat pocket the
diamond pin.


U
T HE Central, while not the city's newest hotel,
was one of its most fashionable. The crowd
which had engaged tables in its dining-room to-
night apparently was made up of exactly the same
sort of people whom Baird had seen at the Chummy
Club.
It was close on to midnight when Eileen Elsing
and her companion entered the main dining-room of
the big hotel. Baird marveled at the girl. The
girls whom he had left behind him in Donchester
eighteen months or so ago would have been brazen
to leave a party with a strange man, and wander,
unchaperoned, for more than two hours through
the crowded city streets. Also, he was quite cer-
tain that even had they dared brave the conven-
tions, they would never have braved the city pave-
ments in dancing-slippers.
Yet, as a downward glance showed him, this
girl's slippers showed not a fleck of city mud on
their satin tops. She was, undoubtedly, of a sort
different from the girls of Donchester.
It was all new to Baird. Girls of Miss Elsing's
class—it suddenly occurred to him that he knew
nothing of her station in life. For that matter,
beyond the fact that Jimmy Ladd's father was
21


22
UNEASY STREET
wealthy, he knew nothing of Jimmy's social posi-
tion. It had never interested him.
That Miss Elsing was a young woman of wealth
he'd assumed from her presence in Jimmy Ladd's
party. Not that, in the school of democracy from
which he had just been discharged, a man's money
had made any difference. Still, as he'd known for
a year or more that Ladd “traveled” with a wealthy
set, he had been content with the quiet assumption
that the end of the war would mean the termination
of a pleasant acquaintance. Jimmy Ladd had, it
was true, mentioned once or twice that his father
could use a bright chap” in his office. But Baird
had dismissed Ladd's well-meant words with a smile.
But now, after some hours in the company of
Eileen Elsing, Donchester began to seem less like
home and more like jail. The girl intrigued him.
Hardly had they left the Chummy Club when
they were swept away by the hilarious crowd. A
well-dressed crowd, too, for the most part. Baird
had never seen so many men and women in evening
dress outside of a theater or ball. Women wore
evening clothes on the street here, apparently on
their way from theater to restaurant. In Don-
chester, evening clothes were “occasions.” Here
they were matters casual. It was another mark
of New York's uniqueness. As far as Times Square
they had pushed their way, jostling and being
jostled. At first, Baird had wanted to resent the
men who leered, who thrust feathers into the face
of the girl. But her own good-humored acceptance
of the night and its follies had shamed him into


UNEASY STREET
23
acquiescence. A bit out of breath, they reached
the Tramby.
“Let's have a drink,” she proposed.
“You're improving,” she told him, a few moments
later. They had managed to crowd into the Tram-
by grill, and she had ordered a high-ball. Baird
was sipping ginger-ale.
“Yes?” he said.
She drank rather deeply.
“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “You're recovering from
shock. I should say that you'll be completely cured
in another hour or so. You may even order a drink
for yourself.”
He felt himself blush.
"I drink occasionally,” he said shortly.
"Every eight or ten years, eh?” She did not
'jeer. Her voice, as always, seemed lazily indiffer-
ent. Yet Baird read into it something of scorn.
“A bit more often than that,” he declared. “But
in the army-well, it can't very well be done.”
She looked about the room.
“Nevertheless-it seems to be done,” she an-
nounced. For here, as in the Chummy Club, uni-
forms predominated.
He made no answer. He suddenly remembered
that he had a ticket for the eleven-o'clock train.
A few hours ago, that departure had seemed the
only course in the world for him to follow. New
York meant nothing to him. But now—New Year's
celebrations were a novelty to him. This girl was
a novelty. He might never see the like of either
again.


24 UNEASY STREET
“Let's go,” she said suddenly. "I want to walk
some more."
The waiter brought him the check. Baird smoth-
ered a whistle. The Tramby grill taxed its patrons
a dollar cover-charge. Of course, it was New Year's
eve, but—three dollars and forty-five cents for two
drinks! Nevertheless, he flattered himself that he
was correctly nonchalant as he gave the waiter
four dollars.
At the door of the grill-room, he hesitated a
moment.
“I intended to leave on the eleven o'clock for Don-
chester, Miss Elsing, but- "
She cast him a glance over her shoulder.
“To-morrow is another day,” she told him. “The
trains will still be running."
Once again they were in the street, buffeted by
the crowds. What it was about her that conquered
him Baird could not tell. She was handsome, boldly
handsome, but he had seen more beautiful women.
She had charm, of a sort, but he had encountered
greater. That she was a lady, even, he could not
be sure. Certainly, the ladies of Donchester would
hesitate at drinking high-balls in public cafés. He
glanced surreptitiously at his watch. It was ten-
thirty; he had time in which to attend to his bags
and catch the train. He said no more about leav-
ing. Arm in arm, they fought their way up Broad-
way.
Jimmy Ladd was waiting for them in the lobby
of the Central.
“Swift work, Eileen !” he said, with a grin. To


UNEASY STREET 25
Baird, “I suppose that you've shouted, ‘Kamerad!
into her shell-like ears?”
Baird colored. He was becoming annoyed with
himself at his lack of apt retort, at his easy
blushing.
“Hustle,” said Ladd. “The crowd's all inside."
A long table had been prepared for Ladd's guests
at the Central. Around it were fifteen or sixteen
people. This time, Ladd made no pretense of in-
troduction. Dabney affixed his eye-glasses and
stared at the late arrivals. His crisp mustache was
not so jaunty now, and his devotion to Miss Boffert
was more pronounced.
Baird looked down the table. Jimmy Ladd's ac-
quaintance was most catholic. He tried to satisfy
himself as to the occupations, the importance, of
the persons at the party. He gave it up. Good-
naturedly noisy, all of them, the most riotous seemed
to be those whose hair, if they were women, was
grayest, or whose heads, if they were men, were
baldest.
One thing they were remarkable for-their cloth-
ing. At least, they were remarkable judged by Don-
chester standards. He knew enough of women's
clothing to realize that Mrs. Dabney's simple-
appearing black-lace frock must have cost several
hundred dollars. And the yellow gown that Eileen
Elsing wore did more than hint of money.
But it was the clothing of the men that amazed
him. In Donchester, the putting-on of evening
clothes was still something of a ceremony. Men


26
UNEASY STREET
wore them a trifle self-consciously, as, in an earlier
generation, they wore their Sunday suits.
But in New York, practically every one who was
not in uniform dressed for the evening. And, some-
how, they seemed to be comfortable, to have none
of the difficulties with collar and tie and obtrusive
shirt-front that always annoyed Baird. Even Dab-
ney, a trifle rumpled now, had in his garb a certain
nicety of cut that was foreign to Baird's experi-
ence, that rumpling could not take away.
Who were these people, anyway? If quiet was
one of the first requisites of gentility--as he had
been brought up to believe these people were not
gently born. Yet, it was a celebration. And it was
the sort of celebration that Baird would have as-
sumed would naturally have been confined to youth.
Only, in New York, there were no old. That, if any-
thing, was the great outstanding fact of the evening.
In Donchester, men definitely surrendered their
claims to young women at forty. In New York, ap-
parently, men surrendered their claims at death,
and not before,
Nor was it, oddly enough, disgusting. He rather
liked the old blades of Manhattan. Why should a
man yield his patent leathers to carpet slippers if
he didn't choose to? The poets sometimes rhapso-
dized over the graceful slipping into old age. Well,
who loves a quitter? And in this city, the home
of ambitious youth, he was a quitter who relin-
quished youth.
Baird saw Jimmy Ladd on the dancing-floor, hold-
ing closely to him a pale, blonde girl. Quite with-


UNEASY STREET 27.
out meaning to, Baird cast a questioning look at
Mrs. Dabney. But in that lady's eyes was only a
good-natured tolerance. He turned to Miss Elsing.
“Shall we dance?” he suggested.
She yawned frankly.
“I'm tired from the walk. What an asinine way
to spend an evening !"
“Thank you,” said Baird curtly.
She laughed.
"Oh, I didn't mean you. But-all this. To
shout and cavort and make fools of ourselves—I
simply can't do it without liquor. Join me? It
might enliven you?”
The barb in her voice, more than in her words,
stung. He had been in the girl's company more
than two hours—had had her all alone and the
result, for her, had been boredom. And yet he
knew, without vanity, that he didn't bore most
women. He damned the self-consciousness that,
he thought, rendered him tongue-tied with this girl.
He felt suddenly angry with himself. Why the
devil had he missed his train? Who was this girl,
anyway? What did he care whether she liked him,
whether she thought him amusing? As for needing
liquor to loosen his tongue, he could talk well enough
without it, if the girl only knew it, and—he reached
for a glass. Then he reached for another.
Now, an old-fashioned whisky cocktail and a glass
of champagne merely open the eyes of some men.
Others they put to sleep. Others strike a happy
medium. Baird had been absolutely “on the wagon”
for twenty months. The whisky and wine at first


UNEASY STREET
29
of him. He saw her whisked away in Jimmy's arms.
Surely no one in the world danced as divinely as
Eileen Elsing. Heedless of the invitation in the eyes
of other women guests of Ladd, he poured himself
& glass of wine and continued staring at Eileen.
Dance with anyone else? Not he!
Of course it was all right for Eileen to dance with
Jimmy, to dance with anyone. She was perfect.
She could do no wrong. And Jimmy—bless his dear
heart had introduced Baird to Eileen. Jimmy
would always be their dearest friend.
“It's all right, Jimmy,” he said to that gay young
gentleman as the dance ended and the couple re-
turned to the table.
“What's all right, Roddy me boy?” asked Ladd.
Baird beamed benevolently. Genial kindness ex-
uded from him. Some men fight; some men cry;
some are happy; some are morose. Liquor is the
most versatile thing in the world. No effects are
beyond its power. It made Baird tolerant, gen-
erous.
"Your dancing with Eileen,” he replied. “No ob-
jection to it at all, Jimmy. Dance with her when-
ever you want. I like to watch you."
Ladd eyed his guest critically.
“Gets you pretty quick, doesn't it, Rod?”
Baird nodded heavily, ponderously.
"Minute I saw her—knew it.” He placed his
hand upon his heart. “Dance, Eileen?”
Miss Elsing grinned at Jimmy Ladd. To Baird,
she replied:


30
UNEASY STREET
“Let's sit it out. And let's have a little some-
thing to cool off.”
She did not offer the least objection as Baird
held her hand.
It was almost impossible to converse any longer.
Nineteen-nineteen was coming in with a bang. It
was immensely thrilling. What a friendly sort New
Yorkers were! Welcomed a fellow in quite as
though they'd known him all their lives, and — He
tried to say something of this to Miss Elsing, but
she evidently misunderstood him. However, she
smiled and held out her glass. Baird poured cham-
pagne into it.
Some drops fell on the girl's hand. He bent over
and kissed them away. He looked up angrily as a
shout of laughter came from the end of the table.
But it was only that Mr. Dabney had come to life.
The difficulty with the Waiters' Union had re-
sulted in the engaging of girls as waitresses at the
Central. An extremely pretty girl had just served
Mr. Dabney with something. Inspiration had come
to him as he started to tip her.
“Worth just fifty cents, m’dear, if I put it in
your hand. Worth five dollars if I put it in your
stocking. What say?"
The waitress essayed coyness, but failed in the
endeavor. Five dollars was five dollars. She turned
slightly to one side; her skirt was raised; into her
stocking-top Dabney slipped the five-dollar bill.
No invention of modern history has ever been
acclaimed with the enthusiasm that greeted Mr.
Dabney's strikingly original idea. There was a yell


UNEASY STREET 31
from Ladd's table; as explanation shot about the
room, hilarity reached its highest pitch. Immedi-
ately a dozen girls stood close to tables, while un-
steady hands that held bills fumbled at the tops of
stockings.
Baird's eyes were frightened as he turned to Miss
Elsing. But he reconsidered his offer to take her
home as he saw the mirth in her eyes, the broad
smile on her lips.
The disgust left his own eyes. Honi soit qui mal
y pense! After all, evil was in the thought, not in
the deed. It really, when you stopped to think of
it, was something of a lark, this idea of Dabney's.
He reached into his waistcoat pocket as the
waitress passed by him. He touched her on the
arm. She turned, and her face was vaguely familiar.
Somewhere, sometime, he'd seen her. But he could
not place her now. He drew her near to him; he
tipped her exactly as Dabney had done. The girl
laughed, thanked him, and moved on. He turned
to Eileen for approval.
“You warm up as the evening progresses,” she
told him.
Jimmy Ladd was settling with a head waiter for
the party. Baird joined him.
“Hadn't we better have more wine?” he asked.
Obsequiously the waiter took his order. Five
minutes later, the check was presented. Hotels are
rather careful about these matters on New Year's
eve.
Baird fished in his pocket. He drew forth several
bills. Horror suddenly came to him. Of his army


82
UNEASY STREET
savings, he had had one hundred and thirty dollars
left after paying for his new clothing. Now he had
something like seventeen dollars. He had, undoubt-
edly, put a hundred-dollar bill in the stocking of the
pretty waitress. He could feel perspiration on his
forehead. What would Miss Elsing think?
“Oh, Jimmy!” he said. “Haven't any money with
me—I'm a fearful ass. Would you mind—
"Surest thing !" And Jimmy handed him a wad
of bills. Baird selected a hundred. He paid the
waiter. Magnificently he waved the change—a mat-
ter of twenty dollars-away. For by now he was
talking with Eileen again.
He was in the midst of an ardent declaration, to
which the girl listened smilingly, when a slim man,
of forty-five, perhaps, groomed to the point of
affectation, joined the party. Immediately he ap-
propriated Eileen. She seemed not at all unwilling
to be appropriated. Taken aback, Baird surveyed
the ivory shoulder that she turned to him. Angry
speech trembled on his lips when Ladd touched
him.
"Lay off, Roddy!" warned Jimmy. “You've been
playing with the same engagement long enough.
Lots of other pretty girls here would like to talk
to you. And Sam Blackmar is one of these all-or-
nothing people, you know.”
“No; I didn't know," snapped Baird. “Who is
he? Who invited him to
"I invited him here," interrupted Jimmy dryly.
Then he grinned. "Cheer up, old top! And give
the girl a chance. Unless some handsome black-


34
UNEASY STREET
something chill. Unconsciously he quickened his
steps. He felt, he imagined, as a scrub-woman who
comes to a room that has held a banquet must feel.
Half-eaten viands, bottles, bedraggled table-linen,
scattered chairs— Broadway seemed like this.
There is no place so lonesome as a place that has
been recently filled with people. No desert is as
vacant as a summer resort in the winter. It is be-
cause people leave behind them something intangi-
ble, something of the spirit that has animated them.
Deserts are not filled with ghosts; empty houses are.
Now, in the faint hour before dawn, Broadway,
almost deserted of people—though lights still
gleamed in the restaurants—was filled with ghosts.
Baird quickened his steps. The glamour was gone.
How foolish to have seen any glamour there at all!
Yet that attitude was unjust. The curtain de-
scends on the play; the stage is cleared; the scenery
is hoisted aloft or piled away. Yet, if the play
has been entertaining, who regrets the time spent
in listening to it?
So, he had not been foolish to see glamour to-
night. If Broadway and the Avenue had been repre-
sentative of New York-people undoubtedly became
intoxicated at county fairs, but does one condemn
the fair? To-night, had he been in the mood for
it, he would have felt the great reaction from the
stress of war; he would have seen a million people
expressing their joy at merely being alive. Liquor
did not make the celebration; it was merely an in-
considerable portion of it for the great majority.
He stopped at the entrance to the Tramby. The


UNEASY STREET 35
great majority! To the north, east, west, and even
south were homes-real homes, with real people.
With kindly people, too. Not one quarrel had he
observed in the streets to-night. Kindly, decent peo-
ple. He looked up Longacre Square. The great
hotels, the tall office-buildings—these were the monu-
ments that had been builded by the people whom
he had seen at play to-night. New York could be
gay, but, in the chill dawn after a night of revelry,
one was more conscious of New York's ability to
work than of its penchant for play.
He drew in a last breath of air and entered the
hotel. It was overheated; he had hardly reached
the elevator before the headache that had been
threatening him arrived. He was nodding when
he reached his door.
He had always been a methodical sort of per-
son, and the army had accentuated this trait in
him. Always he placed his effects in an orderly
row upon his dresser-pocketbook, fountain pen,
keys, money. He grimaced as he counted the lat-
ter. Less than three dollars! Suddenly the blur
of the evening's recollections left him. Events stood
out sharply. He had borrowed a hundred dollars
from Jimmy Ladd. Well, after all, he needn't repay
that immediately. As for his hotel bill, he could
pawn his wrist-watch. His face grew suddenly
blank as his fingers, dipping into his waistcoat
pocket, failed to encounter Eileen Elsing's pin.
Slowly, then frantically, he searched his other
pockets. It was gone! He sat down on the edge
of the bed. What was it the girl had said? That


86 UNEASY STREET
she would hate to ask him to replace it? He ex-
haled heavily. That meant that she would not
hesitate to do so, if he remembered correctly the
expression in her eyes.
But even if she didn't ask him to replace it, how
long would he be content to remain under any obli-
gation to a girl who flirted with one man, kissed
him, while she was cold bloodedly planning to marry,
for money, another man twice her age?
He stared down between his knees. Something
protruded from under the bed. He pulled it out.
It was a worn, canvas-covered steamer-trunk, small,
unfashionable. A porter, doubtless, had put it in
his room by mistake. Savagely he kicked at the un-
offending box. It disappeared under the bed. To-
morrow he'd notify the office— He'd lost Eileen
Elsing's pin. That was the only thought of which
he was capable. He wondered what it was worth?
A thousand dollars? It was long before uneasy
slumber came to him.


III
DAIN is the most vital thing in the world. If
I conscience worked directly upon anatomy, there
would be fewer sinners. That is why drunkards are
always much more remorseful than burglars.
Drunkards are certain to pay within twenty-four
hours. Burglars may escape for years.
Baird had slept heavily. But now, as he pain-
fully opened his eyelids, he was sure that he had
not slept more than half an hour, although his
wrist-watch told him that it was almost two o'clock.
Only the sternest critic would have accused him of
having been intoxicated last night, but-memory
was a bit inactive, and his limbs ached. Intoxi-
cated or not, he had drunk too much.
He'd missed his train home. But that could
hardly be blamed to liquor. He'd decided to miss
it before he'd had a single drink. Because a girl,
of a sort different from any he had hitherto known,
intrigued him, he had stayed over.
A girl of a different sort. Yes; she was all of
that. She was the sort who willingly exchanged
her youth and beauty for money. He sneered at
himself. What difference did it make to him?
Suddenly he closed his eyes; memory was less
sluggish. Brilliantly, despite his lids, there danced
37


38
UNEASY STREET
before his eyes a pin-of platinum—from which
glistened nine diamonds. Memory was racing now.
How she had hesitated when she said that an aunt
had given it to her! Aunt!
But what difference did it make to him who had
given it to her? Except that, of course, he would
be even more anxious to replace a gift from Black-
mar than one from an aunt. Why, he did not
know. It was just so. Hurt, angry pride made
him forget, for the moment, his aches.
What an ass he'd made of himself last night!
The hundred dollars that he had borrowed from
Ladd, the pin that he'd lost—for the moment he
waved these matters aside, while memory brooded
bitterly upon his attitude toward Eileen Elsing.
He supposed the girl flattered herself that she'd
made a conquest. He sat up in bed and swung his
feet to the floor.
A cold bath, breakfast, the raising of some money
on his watch— On the floor, right at his foot, was
a bill. His brows drew together as he bent over
and picked it up. A hundred-dollar bill! Where on
earth— Ladd had given him a hundred. But he
had spent that. His own hundred-dollar bill had
been slipped into the waitress's stocking at the Cen-
tral. But had it? He'd been drinking. He might
easily have made a mistake. And when he'd turned
in last night, perhaps he hadn't been as methodically
careful as he imagined. He had doubtless dropped
this on the floor. His telephone-bell rang. The
bill clutched in his hand, he walked to the instru-
ment.


UNEASY STREET
39
“Good-morning, Indian! How you feeling?” It
was Jimmy Ladd, as cheerful as though his last
nights festivities had had milk as their inspirational
base.
“Sort of so-so,” said Baird.
“You ran out on us," accused Ladd.
“It was a bit too strong for me," apologized
Baird.
"For you? Not if you got into the proper train-
ing, old top. I think you've an honest-to-God
talent for being a rum-hound, Rod. Of course,
you're out of practise and all that, but you have
a way of leaping at the old juice, and enveloping
it, and making it feel at home that I envy."
“Was I as bad as that?” asked Baird.
Ladd laughed.
“ 'Course not. Except for a minute or two,
when I thought you'd pull Blackmar apart to see
what made him tick.”
“What does make him tick?” demanded Baird.
“He doesn't. He shrieks to heaven. It's the kale
that does it for him. Do you suppose Eileen Elsing
could hear him if it wasn't for that?”
“I wasn't thinking of Miss Elsing.”
The laugh that came over the wire was extremely
distasteful to him.
“Why try to deceive your uncle James?” de-
manded Ladd. “Why, if I introduced a man to
Eileen and he didn't spend at least a week doing
nothing else but think of her, I'd drop his acquain-
tance! There'd be something wrong with that man.”
“Oh, she's very nice," said Baird shortly.


40
UNEASY STREET
“ Very nice !'” mimicked Ladd. “She's a per-
fect corker—that's what Eileen is!”
“And is going to marry a man for his money,”
sneered Baird.
“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” argued Ladd. “Black-
mar's kept out of jail so far, and he has a remark-
able taste in neckties. And a man who can make
eight or ten millions isn't exactly a human zero.”
“I suppose not,” said Baird stiffy.
“Had breakfast?” demanded Ladd abruptly.
“Just woke up."
“Then I'll come over and you can weep on my
shoulder about Eileen, and I'll weep on yours.”
It was rather crude of Jimmy to harp on Miss
Elsing, but still Baird supposed that he had given
cause for it.
“What are you weeping about?” he demanded.
“Me?” Ladd's laugh was not quite as care-free
now. "Have I ever, Roddy me buck, intimated that
my esteemed father is no unchastened hellion?”
“I think that you once said that he'd rather chase
up a church aisle than Broadway,” answered Baird.
“You quote me accurately," declared Ladd.
“And perhaps, in some moment of girlish confidence,
I have painted a portrait of myself in the charac-
ter of the erring son.”
“I seem to remember something like that,” ad-
mitted Baird.
"Yea, bo! Never darken my door again!
That's father. He used to be able to repeat it
backward. And then I joined the army. For-
given? I almost drowned beneath his forgiveness.


UNEASY STREET 41
And then I returned from France, and got my dis-
charge, and the glamour wore off when I dallied
with the grape, and—well, father delivered his
famous lecture again this morning. I am no longer
Little Sunshine, the Hero Heir. I am Door-Dark-
ener, the Profligate. He happened to be slumbering
lightly this morning when I crashed into the an-
cestral mansion, and he even neglected the office to-
day, in order that he might parentally pry open my
eyes. I've forgotten the verbiage of the ultimatum,
but the gist of it is: 'On your way! Bless his
dear old heart, I'm a fearful rotter, and in three
or four days, when he's begun to miss me, I'll trot
home and explain to him that New Year's doesn't
happen often, and isn't going to happen at all if the
Prohibitionists get their way. But I've talked
enough. I'll be over in twenty minutes.”
Baird's mouth was hard as he hung up the tele-
phone. Jimmy hadn't said so, hadn't even hinted
it, but the intimation was there. Ladd could use
the hundred that he had loaned Baird last night.
Jimmy would never be crude enough to say so, but
-Baird was glad that he had not tipped the
waitress so generously last night. Thank heaven
that he could settle the debt to Jimmy at once!
He stepped hurriedly beneath the shower. The
cold spray revived him physically, and mentally,
too. Of course he'd been an utter jackass, but it
was all in the game of life, he supposed. Lots of
men, through no particular fault of their own, suf-
fered accidents entailing much more serious conse-
quences than the replacing of a diamond pin.


UNEASY STREET
And Eileen Elsing would receive a new diamond
pin. Most certainly she would!
In Linestream, a suburb of Donchester, there was
a corner lot. Before the war, Baird had been offered
fifteen hundred dollars for the property, which rep-
resented the entire savings of his father. Of course,
prices had dropped a bit, but there wasn't the
slightest doubt that he could get a thousand dollars
for it half an hour after he notified any one of a
dozen real-estate firms that it was in the market.
His own firm, Robbins & Robbins— But no; he'd
rather not say anything about it to them. Both the
Robbinses were prosy old fogies who took great
personal interest in their employees.
Rubbed briskly dry, he stepped into his bedroom
again. He reached under the bed for his shoes.
His hand encountered a bit of paper, two bits of
paper. He straightened up, staring blankly at
two hundred-dollar bills!
Maybe he had drunk enough last night to make
a mistake in thinking that he had given a waitress
a hundred-dollar tip. But certainly he had not
been in such condition as to acquire two hundred
dollars without recollection of the fact. He glanced
quickly at his overcoat. It was his own brand-new
one; he had not walked off with the wrong one.
He sat dazedly down upon the edge of the bed.
He remembered perfectly having gone through all
his pockets searching for the diamond pin. He
couldn't have pulled three hundred-dollar bills from
his pocket without seeing or feeling them. It was
credible that he'd dropped one bill, but three


UNEASY STREET 43
never! He got on his knees and looked beneath the
bed. There was that little canvas trunk—he re-
membered that, remembered kicking it angrily under
the bed. There were more bills on the floor by the
trunk. The cover was partly open; money seemed
to be oozing from it.
He reached farther under and pulled the trunk
out. His wits were acute now. He knew at once
that his angry kick last night had forced the lock,
had permitted the money that was so tightly packed
inside to expand with the cessation of pressure, to
flutter upon the floor.
A knock sounded upon the door. Harshly he
called a question. A maid answered him. Sudden
drops were upon his forehead. He laughed nerv-
ously as he wiped them away, and called to the maid
to return in an hour.
An hour? Why not ten minutes? By some amaz-
ing error, this trunkful of money had been placed
in his room, and his only course was to telephone
the office at once, inform the hotel staff of the
affair, and How much money was there? If
they were all hundreds, like these bills that he
saw, But there were thousands, too. Suddenly
it seemed that the only important thing in the world
was the adding of this money. His fingers trem-
bled as he began counting.
Two hundred and three thousand and seven hun-
dred—but he mustn't forget the hundred that he
had first picked up, and which now he knew could
not possibly be his own. Two hundred and three


UNEASY STREET
thousand and eight hundred dollars! And it had
been left in his room!
He walked to the window and stared unseeingly
at Times Square. He must think, think! This
money, this fortune-it wasn't his. He mustn't lose
sight of that fact for a second.
He turned back from the window and sat down.
The telephone, silent against the wall, seemed to
call to him. The obvious thing, the only thing,
was to telephone down-stairs and have this trunk
and its contents removed.
But there was no law forbidding a man to play
with his fancy. How on earth had it come into
his room? Well, it hadn't walked in—that was
sure. And it no longer seemed credible that a ho-
tel porter had accidentally delivered it to this room.
Trunks containing fortunes are not carelessly en-
trusted to porters.
Well then, why hadn't the person who left it here
claimed it? For eleven hours, at least, it had been
undisturbed in the room— His telephone-bell rang.
The girl announced Mr. Ladd.
“Tell him that I'll be down in five minutes,” said
Baird.
He hung up and looked again at the trunk. He
didn't have a hundred with which to pay Jimmy
Ladd, and Jimmy would undoubtedly be grateful,
in view of the parental displeasure incurred to-day,
for repayment. But there was no necessity for
weighing Jimmy's possible gratitude against-well,
against theft. A person looking on, watching him,


UNEASY STREET
45
would be justified in thinking that he intended keep-
ing this money.
He laughed. But his mirth was not reassuring
to himself. Two hundred and three thousand and
eight hundred dollars! He'd never even seen so
much money. Why, if it came to that, he doubted
if Rockefeller had ever seen so much. Bankers
might have, but the big millionaires of the country
paid their bills, acquired their properties with
checks. So much cash-
And why hadn't it been claimed? People who
have mislaid two hundred thousand dollars don't
oversleep, even on the day after New Year's eve.
Could it be possible that its last possessor did
not intend to claim the money? Well, what differ-
ence did that make? His duty was very clearly
defined. He'd telephone down-stairs immediately
and— The bell rang again. He answered it. It
was Ladd, speaking from down-stairs, announcing
that he, for one, was starved, and purposed begin-
ning his late breakfast.
“With you right away,” said Baird.
Once again he looked at the trunk. Then he
walked over to it and picked it up. In his own
trunk, purchased yesterday, he placed the canvas
one. There was plenty of room. It had needed a
big new trunk to hold his uniforms and trophies
acquired abroad. Carefully he locked it. It was
certainly his duty to guard this money against the
possible depredations of a maid. He was slightly
dizzy as he entered the elevator.


IV
TIMMY LADD, in matters gastronomical at any
rate, was a man of his word. Also, he had a
persuasive way with head waiters. The maître
d'hôtel, a captain, a waiter, and a 'bus-boy were
all scurrying round the corner-seat of the Tramby
grill, administering to the young man's wants, when
Baird entered the room.
“How do you do it, Jimmy?" asked Baird, as
the captain drew out a chair for him.
Ladd thrust his pointed spoon into the iced grape-
fruit; he conveyed a morsel to his mouth.
“What? Get action? Roddy, when I walk into
a restaurant, the check-boy knows that it's Christ-
mas. He flashes the word ahead that Santa has
arrived." He dug again into his grapefruit.
“That's one of the arguments that father uses to
bolster up his frightful injustices toward me." He
grinned. “Father says that if I'd earned my own
money, I wouldn't be so lavish with it. And he can't
see it at all when I point out to him that my main
objection to work is that it will doubtless cause
me to set too great a value upon money. He has
the thrift idea. I try to point out its economic
falsity, its glaring immorality, but he'll not listen.
He told me, this morning, that I was a sucker for
46


UNEASY STREET 47
every parasite in New York. Yes, sir; he said
'sucker.' If you knew father, you'd realize the ex-
tent of his wrath. And when I told him that so
highly esteemed a character as the late 'Diamond
Jim' Brady had said that there was a lot of fun
in being a sucker if you could afford it, father told
me that I could no longer afford it.” His counte-
nance took on a look of mock horror. “I trust, old
top, that you can pay for this sumptuous repast?”
“If you can eat it.” Baird grimaced.
A waiter removed Jimmy's fruit. Upon a hot
plate he placed buckwheat cakes and sausages.
Generously he applied golden sirup tº the dish.
Baird shook his head.
“Yours is a point of view that could only gain
ground in this town, Jimmy."
“Well, New York demands the best, the most
up-to-date," chuckled Ladd. “Give the old burg
time, and it will spread its philosophy all over the
nation. 'Cause why? Because we're the happiest
folk in the country.”
“You think so?”
"I know it,” said Ladd emphatically. “This town
is full of folks born and raised somewhere else. But
show me the town that has many New Yorkers !
There ain't no such place. And if there is,” he went
on, blissfully unconscious of contradictory utter-
ance, “those New Yorkers are all looking forward
to the day when they'll have enough money to come
back to the big town. And people don't care about
a place where they aren't happy."
Baird poured a second cup of coffee.


48
UNEASY STREET
"Sorry I don't see it your way, Jimmy. But,
to me, the town is simply the home of the bluffer,
the would-be, the imitator, the social climber."
“You have a grouch,” declared Jimmy. “There-
fore you quote the envious. Let me tell you some-
thing, man: The bluffer and the imitator have a
decidedly legitimate ambition. They aren't clams.
They know that some one else has more on the ball
than they have; so they ape him. By and by, if
they imitate and bluff long enough, they'll be the
real thing. Take a prize-fighter beginning his
career. Do any sneer at him because he hopes to
be champion? And because, at the outset, he avoids
the best men, admitting that, at present, they are
superior to him, is he a joke? Not by a long shot!
He's a wise Patsy. But he studies the champion's
tactics, his methods-imitates him in every way.
Sensible boy!"
"No argument,” said Baird. “He has a more
or less legitimate ambition. But your woman, for
instance, who sends her husband to the grindstone,
presses his nose against it, so that he may make more
money in order that she may have the pleasure of
meeting Mrs. Vanderbilt - She is a fool, and her
husband is a greater fool.”
Jimmy nodded to the waiter. The dishes were
removed. Carefully, with fingers that shook not at
all, Baird noticed, he selected and lighted a cigarette.
Baird's own fingers trembled. Though he fol-
lowed every word of Jimmy's talk, the canvas trunk
up-stairs loomed large in the background of his


UNEASY STREET 49
mind. Whose was it? Had its owner missed it?
Was a search already being instituted?
Luxuriously, Ladd inhaled cigarette smoke.
“Calling names doesn't prove anything,” he said.
“We hear a lot about expensive wives. Let me tell
you something, boy: Ambition is a funny thing.
A man would be content with ten thousand a year,
say. His wife wants fifty. She makes him hustle.
He gets the fifty. His nose is at the grind-
stone, as you say. But it sharpens his nose. It
makes him smell opportunity, and—he doesn't sag,
physically or mentally. Show me an extravagant
wife and, nine times out of ten, I'll show you a suc-
cessful husband.”
“Yes," jeered Baird; "and a man who's killing
himself for nothing, so that his wife may visit on the
Avenue.”
“Well, the Avenue's a nice place, Rod; you must
admit that,” chuckled Ladd. “And why shouldn't
she want to know the people who live there?”
“Because she doesn't belong with them,” snapped
Baird.
Ladd laughed.
“There's a fine democratic doctrine! Why
doesn't she belong there if she's an attractive per-
son socially and her husband has money enough ?”
"Why isn't she content with her old friends ?”
Baird avoided a direct reply.
"Are you? Is anyone? What's life but move-
ment, change? You've had five thousand a year,
say. You make ten thousand a year. Do you run
round with the same people? You bet your life


50
UNEASY STREET
you don't-either here or in your home town of
Donchester! Or in Peking, China, or Valparaiso,
or Evanston, Illinois. And I'll tell you why. A
motor trip is proposed. Two couples. The ten-
thousand-dollar couple wants to stay at a hotel a
little more expensive than the five-thousand-dollar
people can afford. So they travel with another ten-
thousand-dollar couple. And I'll tell you something
else: The rich don't forsake their poor acquaintances
so much as the poor forsake them. The five-thou-
sand-dollar women call on the ten-thousand-dollar
women. They resent her new rugs, her silver. They
quit calling."
“Where did you learn all this, Jimmy?” chaffed
Baird.
“Oh, I picked it up in various places,” grinned
Ladd. “Believe me, Rod, I know a lot about money
and what it does to people.”
“You never made any," said Baird sardonically.
“But I've spent a bunch,” chuckled Jimmy. “You
can learn as much watching the parade go as watch-
ing it come.”
“Well, you're all wrong, anyway," said Baird.
“That's what you say-now. Wait till you've
been in this town a while longer.”
“Afraid I'll never change, then. I must get away
to-day,” said Baird.
“Oh, but you'll come back. Of course, now that
father is on the outs with his angel child— But
he'll get over it in a week at the outside. And then
I want you to meet him. There's lots of opportunity
in his office, and I want you there, Roddy me buck.”


52
UNEASY STREET
Blackmar. Myself, I think that maybe Eileen is
making a mistake, but eight millions make loud
music.”
“Wouldn't you have that sometime?" hinted
Baird.
“Father is quite hale and hearty, thank you,"
grinned Jimmy. “And Blackmar has his."
“And she'd marry a man for his money?" asked
Baird.
Jimmy shrugged.
“Where does a lawyer take his talent? To the
highest bidder, eh? And a doctor, and an author
-anyone at all? Why shouldn't Eileen?”
“But—but it comes down to-selling herself,"
protested Baird.
“Does it? All right. Would you have her sell
herself for a pretty speech or a pleasant smile or
a good-looking face? It's a queer thing the way
people look at marriage. A girl throws herself away
on a good-looking poor young blackguard, and peo-
ple call her a fool. She throws herself away on a
rich young blackguard, and people say that she's
made a good match.”
“They say that in New York, perhaps," argued
Baird.
“They say it anywhere," retorted Ladd. “But if
she happens to marry a man twenty years older
than herself, she has to prove, absolutely, that she
loves the man before people will believe her. Why?”
“Because people suspect that money has entered
into the affair.”
“If they're both young, that doesn't matter," said


UNEASY STREET 53
Ladd. “People have the wrong idea, absolutely,
about marriage. It's the man's fault, too. A man
forty-five offers himself to a young girl. He's grown
a bit bald, a bit paunchy; his youthful good looks are
gone. But to offset that, he has a record of suc-
cessful achievement. But does he want the lady to
marry him because of his undoubted assets ? Not
by a jugful! He wants to be married for something
that he hasn't got. Gosh, when some girl accepts
me, I hope she doesn't do it because I can dance the
shimmy! I'm willing to be married because I have
brains, because I've made some use of them." He
colored slightly. “Of course," he went on, more
constrained in manner, “I'll never mount to a damn,
anyway. But just supposing People seem to
think that love is a matter of sex attraction. It
sure is; but marriage is something else again, Maw-
russ. Of course, I think it's better all round if the
girl loves the man, but if she respects him, and he
has undoubted material assets — I'm not blaming
Eileen a bit."
“I guess I look at it differently,” said Baird. He
had the faintest sneer in his voice.
“You don't look at it sensibly," said Ladd.
“Take Eileen. You know what a little sister of the
rich is? Well, Eileen is one of them. Father died
ten years ago. Her uncle brought her on here.
Uncle has two daughters older than Eileen. They'll
never win prizes in beauty contests. Chance for
jealousy, eh? You said it. Eileen always in the
background-cast-off gowns, all that. And would
they let her fit herself for a job? Not so's you'd


54
UNEASY STREET
notice it. An old-maid aunt might come in handy
when the cousins got married-keep house, all that
sort of thing.
“But you can't keep a wise girl down. And Eileen
is wise. She's got used to certain things—things
that cost money. Does she want to give them up?
Does anyone? Well, she's normal. First thing her
uncle knew, Eileen, in her cast-off gowns and made-
over suits, was a belle. The cousins could leave her
out of parties, but other people wouldn't. When
half a dozen men in a certain set want to marry a
girl, they manage to see that she's invited around.
Eileen isn't a one-punch person, Rod. She gets 'em,
but she holds 'em, too. There's an Eileen that one
doesn't meet at first-an Eileen who's gentle, sweet.
She has more than beauty, than brains, than charm.
She has all those, the Lord knows, but she sticks to
a friend the way a man does. She-oh, gosh, you'll
find out.
"Well, there you have it. Where her cousins
tossed away a thousand, Eileen counted a penny
twice. Then another uncle died. He left her four
thousand a year. And Eileen ups and moves. Lit-
tle apartment all her own on Fifty-ninth, opposite
the park. Cousins sighed with relief; Eileen was out
of the market, would render herself déclassée. But
not Eileen. Dug up a chaperon and is invited
around - It hasn't been any too easy for her, I'll
tell the world. She's been trained with a million-
dollar crowd—and likes it. She's had to count pen-
nies—has to count 'em still, for that matter. Four


UNEASY STREET
55
thousand a year doesn't buy any yachts, you know.
Every little jewel, every trinket "
“I notice that she accepts them from a man to
whom she's not married,” said Baird.
“That pin, you mean?” Ladd shrugged. “I'm
not saying that Eileen is perfect. I'm saying this:
She found out early in the game that money makes
this world go round. She found out that men can
afford to be generous, but that women ought to
run a cash business. That's why she won't hesitate
a minute to let you pay for that pin. And you'll
respect her more for it.”
“Will I?” Baird's sneer was patent now.
“Sure you will! That's the masculine of it. If
I lose your watch, you laugh it off. You won't
hear to my getting another. That's because you are
able to earn money to buy another one. But a
woman-practically all that any of them have got
they got as gifts from men. They only have a few
years—most of them, poor things in which to
collect their gifts. So they're jealous of those they
have. It's plain business. You like it in a man;
why not respect it in a woman, even though it's a
bit different?” His face grew suddenly anxious.
“Say—it won't break you, will it? That pin must
be worth seven or eight hundred— If you don't
want to see her, I'll frame up some excuse, and "
Here was Baird's chance. Jimmy Ladd was his
friend. Friends forgive mistakes; they do not judge
too harshly. It was a very simple thing to explain
to Ladd that he was under a misapprehension, that
Baird had permitted a wrong conception to arise


56
UNEASY STREET
in Ladd's mind. Ladd knew that Baird was in
moderate circumstances. Why not tell him that
he was in practically no circumstances at all, that
he was dependent on the job waiting for him?
But pride assailed him-false pride. He had not
destroyed certain assumptions that had grown up
in Jimmy's mind. Last night, he had borrowed a
hundred with an air of casualness that amounted, if
one were strictly ethical, to deceit. To ask Miss
Elsing to wait a day for payment of the value of
her pin meant that Jimmy Ladd would know that
Baird had not that much in the bank. Otherwise,
he would naturally write a check.
Jimmy Ladd's friendship might prove a great
asset. A position in the firm of Jimmy's father
might lead to undreamed-of fortune. There was no
future with Robbins & Robbins. There was a fu-
ture with Jimmy Ladd in New York.
But that future was based on friendship; friend-
ship is easily jeopardized. Jimmy Ladd, he knew,
trusted him implicitly. But if Jimmy Ladd discov-
ered that Baird had deceived him as to his financial
standing— Jimmy had expressed great tolerance
for the bluffer. But men often say things that they
do not mean.
But it wasn't Jimmy that he was considering
at all. He might as well be honest with himself.
He was thinking of Eileen Elsing. She was not
at all the sort of girl that interested him. He had
his own ideas about the sort of girl that he liked.
How could a man care for a woman who stood for
all the things to which he was opposed? Ridicu-


UNEASY STREET
57
lous! He did not realize that he was whistling to
keep his courage up, that nature works her plan
without consulting us. If love were a mathematical
formula, there would be no unhappy marriages.
She was not at all the kind of girl that he had
vaguely conceived might, some day, win his love.
That was enough for him! A girl who would de-
liberately exchange herself for money, even though
a marriage ceremony absolved her from open
shame He certainly was not going to submit
himself to humiliation at her hands. And it would
be humiliation to confess to her—though the con-
fession went through Jimmy Ladd—that he had not
cash enough in the bank to meet his obligation to
her.
“Break me?" He laughed. He signed the check
that the waiter had placed face downward on the
table without glancing at it. He gave the man a
dollar. “Not at all. And I owe you a hundred,
Jimmy.”
“No hurry at all, old chap!” protested Jimmy.
“Why not? I borrowed it in a hurry. Might as
well pay it back the same way. And I'll have just
time to drink a cup of tea with Miss Elsing before
I catch my train.”
“And you'll be ready to return soon?”
“Why-er- "Baird was thinking fast. “Maybe
I'll return at once. I'd hardly like to go to work
at my old place and leave them in a hurry. Just
attend to my affairs there, and come back.”
“Good boy!” exclaimed Jimmy. “This is Wed-
nesday. By Saturday, father will be missing his


58
UNEASY STREET
erring son. We'll have Sunday dinner together
you, too—and Monday James McPherson Ladd has
a new potential partner.”
“You think there's a place for me?”
“I don't think it, Rod; I know it.”
They were in the lobby now.
“Wait for me a minute or so, Jimmy," said Baird.
Ladd nodded assent, and Baird entered the ele-
vator. In his room he stood still for two minutes.
Then he shrugged his shoulders.
It certainly was not theft that he contemplated.
Supposing that he'd had a thousand dollars in the
bank? Would it be morally wrong for him to take
a thousand from the canvas trunk, placing his own
perfectly good check therein? He didn't think it
would be.
Well, his corner lot in Linestream was the same
as money in the bank. He'd return to-morrow after-
noon, replace the money that he was going to take
now. It was almost four o'clock. No one had come
to claim the trunk and its contents. If, by any.
possible chance, they did come, how would they prove
that he had taken anything from the contents?
Prove it? But, pshaw -no one would claim it.
When he returned, he would notify the hotel authori-
ties of finding the trunk, first replacing the money
that he had taken. He was not going to make any
confession that would humiliate him in the eyes of
Eileen Elsing. He would pay her for her pin.
He opened his trunk, and from the canvas box
inside took a thousand dollars. This time he was


UNEASY STREET 59
not dizzy when he walked to the elevator, but his
color was high.
Twenty-four hours ago, he had looked forward
to his return to Donchester, to the taking-up, where
he had left off, of what had seemed to be a satisfac-
tory career. In so far as youth ever looks ahead,
he had forecast his future as one of not too arduous
labor rewarded with modest pay. Some day, he had
always dreamed, he might possibly achieve a minor
interest in the firm of Robbins & Robbins, might go
home each night to find dinner upon the table, pre-
sided over by a nice, comfortable girl-pretty, of
course—who would hang breathlessly upon his
speech.
Last night, he had met a different sort of girl.
He had met a girl who, when she married, would
leave the preparation of dinner to a competent chef
and a capable butler. He had met a girl who would
not look upon home as the end-all and be-all of
existence, but who would treat home as man treats
it-a place to go when the important things of the
day had been attended to. A girl, in short, who
possessed as much individuality as any man, and
who would not permit that individuality to be sub-
merged beneath marriage.
He had had, last night, his first glimpse of a
life whose participants were not hampered by such
petty matters as the price-list on the menu. He
had met, on terms of equality, persons to whom
wealth, because they had it, was a casual thing.
And the very casualness with which it was treated
enhanced its value in his eyes.


60
UNEASY STREET
Donchester, while he had been in the army, had
seemed some earthly paradise to which, if God were
kind, he might be some day permitted to return.
But now Donchester seemed the tomb of ambition,
the burial-ground of hope.


M HE tea-hour is perhaps the most charming in
1 the better New York restaurants. Breakfast
is unattractive; the loveliest feminine face is not im-
proved by electric lights in the morning. Luncheon
is an utilitarian proposition, too much like putting
gasoline in the tank. Dinner and supper are apt to
be feverishly gay.
But tea is a function of refinement. One senses
that here New York has, for the time, forgotten
haste. Conversation is quieter; restraint, unforced,
is in the atmosphere. The orchestras, even when
they play the latest "jazz," seem subdued. It is the
hour of candle-light, when New York seeks relaxa-
tion after the labors of the day. Entering this at-
mosphere slowed the fevered pulse of Baird.
Blackmar and Eileen were seated in the center of
the Amsterdam's tea-room when Baird and Ladd
arrived. Plates had been laid for the later comers,
and the girl was already munching at a toasted
muffin.
“Hello, revelers !" Eileen greeted them. “You
remember Mr. Blackmar, Captain Baird?”
The smile on Blackmar's lips seemed faintly con-
temptuous, superior, to Baird. He bowed stiffly.
But stiffness left him as Eileen flashed upon him a
61


62 UNEASY STREET
smile whose radiance he had not suspected. She
wore a tailor-made suit-of blue serge, he guessed.
A stiff flat hat of the same color sat jauntily upon
her mass of auburn hair. A cream-colored collar,
stiff enough to suggest masculinity, added to the
boyish effect of the suit and hat.
Baird hated masculine women; he liked, he
thought, soft, frilly, trailing garments for them.
But the most severe tailor could not take away
from Eileen Elsing the rounded lines of her figure.
Her femininity was merely accented by her garb.
She looked boyish, but one knew that she was all
girl.
“Tea?” She looked from Baird to Ladd.
The latter grinned.
“Not a chance, Eileen. You may have better
luck with Baird, but I just finished a grapefruit,
three cups of coffee, five sausages, seven buckwheat
cakes, some toast- "
“Spare us, Jimmy!" begged Eileen. “By the day
after to-morrow, maybe, I can listen to such ma-
terial matters, but on the first day of January,
She shuddered. “Didn't you make any good reso-
lutions, Jimmy? I hope Captain Baird has some
sense of the tribute due to the morning after.”
“Oh, Baird isn't a hardened sinner like me,"
laughed Jimmy. “Besides, he has worry on his
soul. That pin of yours-
Baird saw the girl stiffen. Her lips wore a smile
that was purely mechanical as she turned to him.
“My pin?" she questioned. “It worried you?”
"It's been worrying me for some time,” inter-


UNEASY STREET
63
posed Blackmar. “That's why I'm here to-day.
I have a man down-town-sort of a wonder, he is.
I always did distrust the clasp on that pin, but
Eileen wouldn't have it changed. Thinks a good
clasp would be too bulky. But now she's going to
let this little jeweler in Maiden Lane repair it.
Sorry I can't tea with you boys—though I imagine
Eileen will do most of the teaing,” he chuckled.
“But I'll take the pin, Captain Baird, if you don't
mind, and run along." He looked at his watch.
It was quite the thinnest watch that Baird had
ever seen. Like the perfectly cut clothing of the
man, it suggested affectation. Even the trim of his
mustache How a man could make a fortune and
yet give so much thought to his appearance! He
looked away from Blackmar and met the coolly
questioning eyes of the girl. He felt his face burn.
“Your pin-yes—it has worried — —you see,
Miss Elsing, I've lost it,” he blurted.
The girl's expression did not change, unless hard-
ness crept into her eyes. A matter of a few sec-
onds—though, to Baird, it seemed minutes-she
stared at him. Then she shrugged. She turned to
Blackmar.
"Better run along, Sam, and keep that engage-
ment that interferes with tea.”
Upon him Baird felt, mocking his embarrass-
ment, the cynical glance of Blackmar. He was
furious with himself because he blushed.
"I–er-Miss Elsing, I-have been unpardonably
careless and, of course, I want to replace "
“Of course," she said, coolly. “As it happens,


64
UNEASY STREET
though, I doubt if another pin like it can be found
in the city.”
“How did you lose it?" asked Blackmar. It was
a perfectly natural question, but, somehow, in the
man's tones, Baird felt sneering elation.
"If I knew that,” he answered, “I would know
how to find it.”
Blackmar's lips pursed. He made no reply, but
there radiated from him an atmosphere of in-
credulity.
“What does it matter?” asked Eileen. “Captain
Baird is not accustomed to New Year's celebra-
tions, and— ”
Blackmar's mustache moved. The smile was fleet-
ing. But Baird caught it. He had made an ass
of himself last night, and doubtless Miss Elsing had
retailed his asininity to Blackmar. It would be just
like the girl, he told himself. How cordially he
disliked her!
“Well, it doesn't matter, Eileen. As a matter
of fact, Arabin's have another pin almost like it.
I'll try and drop in there to-morrow and get it for
you.”
Baird felt as though some one had removed him
from the scene. This calm assumption of Blackmar
that-
“In that case,” he said evenly, “I'll drop into
Arabin's. I think, Miss Elsing, that we have just
time, if I'm to catch an evening train.”
“Oh, see here, Baird,” protested Blackmar; “just
forget the matter. I'll get Eileen another pin. She
shouldn't have worn it, anyway.”


UNEASY STREET
65
Once again the man's words were all right. In-
deed, a listener might have thought Blackmar the
essence of tactful kindness. But Baird, resentful
of the man, read contempt in his voice. What right
had Blackmar to assume that he, Rodney Baird,
was not able to make good his own losses? Further,
there was patronage, too much patronage, in the
way he spoke to Baird. Why not “Mr. Baird,” in-
stead of simply “Baird”?
“You'll forgive my feeling, Mr. Blackmar, that
it's a matter I can't forget?”
The two men eyed each other a moment. Black-
mar's eyebrows raised To Baird, he was the epit-
ome of well-bred insolence. There was not a word
to which he could take exception, yet never had he
so desired to drive his fist against a man's face.
“Just as you say, my boy,” replied Blackmar.
“You'll pardon my running-away, Eileen, but—"
He nodded cordially to Ladd, bowed with the least
trace of formality to Baird, and left the table.
Baird looked after him, his eyes hard. He turned
to the girl. Somehow he felt awkward, conscious
of his newly purchased clothing. No wonder, see-
ing him unconventionally clad last night and wear-
ing the same suit this afternoon, Blackmar thought
him unable to replace the pin.
“I'm to catch the five-o'clock, Miss Elsing," he
said. “If you wouldn't mind "
“And you won't have any tea?” she asked.
“Thank you—no,” he told her.
Jimmy Ladd signaled the waiter.
“This is my party," said the girl.


66
UNEASY STREET
Jimmy grinned.
“When the hundred that Baird just paid me is
gone say to-morrow, Eileen—I'll let you buy me
dinner.”
She smiled.
“Father?”
Jimmy bowed.
“You said it. And it usually takes four days,
you know.”
The girl laughed, yet in her laughter was the
hint of a sigh.
“Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy! And everyone thought that
when you returned from France " For the first
time, Baird glimpsed gentleness in the girl. But
Ladd's grin grew broader.
“I haven't time, you know. Prohibition is com-
ing."
The gentleness left her eyes.
“You irritate me, Jimmy. You mayn't come with
us."
She looked at Baird and rose. The waiter had
not yet returned with Ladd's change.
“It's all right,” said Ladd mock-mournfully.
“Leave me to my teaful shame. Send me a wire,
Rod, the minute you're coming back.”
“I'll do that,” promised Baird. Warmly he shook
Ladd's hand.
Outside, in the taxi the Amsterdam doorman had
summoned, the girl looked curiously at Baird.
“You're returning to New York, then? To live
here?"
“I hope so," he told her.


UNEASY STREET
67
He looked straight ahead, but he felt her eyes
still curiously upon him. Inexplicably he thrilled.
It annoyed him. Beautiful she undoubtedly was;
the jaunty boyishness of her apparel, accenting
her girlishness as it did, rendered her more intrigu-
ing to the eye even than she had been last night.
She had brains, too. How he knew that, he could
not tell, but he knew it. Certainly she had said
nothing to indicate their possession. And she could
be gentle, sympathetic, understanding. That much
he knew from her words, her look when she had
chided Jimmy for his wildness. Her later harshness
could not obliterate her moment of softness.
But-she was mercenary. Jimmy Ladd could be
as much of a sophist as he chose; nevertheless, nice
girls—the kind that Baird had known in Donchester
-were not like Eileen Elsing. They did not accept
diamond pins from men, even though engaged to
them; they did not, by their attitude and speech,
show how absolutely they expected strangers to re-
place jewels which they had entrusted to the
strangers for safekeeping.
It was her hard matter-of-factness about it that
angered him, that disgusted him. Yet, why shouldn't
she be matter of fact? Wasn't it more honest to
be matter of fact? Why should she wave the mat-
ter aside, profess not to mind, when he would know
perfectly well that she did mind? Pretty protesta-
tions were all very well, but if they were insincere,
of what sense were they?
“So you're coming back to New York?” She
broke in upon his musings. "I'm glad of that.”


68
UNEASY STREET
He thrilled again.
“You mean that?”
Her eyes widened. They were lovely eyes of, now,
a warm gray.
“Why shouldn't I?” she asked. “And you're com-
ing to see me.”
Whether by accident or design, her hand slid
from her lap and touched his. Gloved though it
was, Baird sensed its firmness, its warmth. He
looked at her; her eyes held mockery in them now.
Her head was perched on one side-quizzically, it
seemed to him. It grew above the fur collar of the
overcoat that she wore like some lovely, though
exotic, flower.
“May I?” he asked. His voice shook slightly.
Her nod was assent enough. He hardly dared
breathe lest his hand move and remind her of its
proximity to her own. They did not speak again
until the taxi drew up before Arabin's.
Then they exchanged mutual smiles. Baird un-
derstood now the queer look on the taxi-man's face
when he had given him the address. The girl
laughed.
“Captain Baird, you have stolen my wits."
He bowed.
“The brain first, and then the heart.”
Her eyes did not rebuke his banality. Her lips
curved in a pretty moue.
“And I call myself a New Yorker, and forget that
all shops are closed on New Year's. Oh, well-shall
we walk ?”
With fingers that shook with sudden relief, Baird


UNEASY STREET 69
took from his pocket money for the taxi-man. De-
cision could wait! Explanations that a false pride
forbade to be given verbally could be given in writ-
ing. He turned to the girl, his eyes blurred, to find
her smiling into the eyes of an affable, portly gentle-
man, whose bland smile seemed to envelop her.
“Mr. Arabin, Captain Baird,” the young man
heard her say.
He took the gloved hand that the famous jeweler
extended. Like a condemned criminal who has been
notified that a pardon is on the way and who sud-
denly hears that the report was cruelly false, he
heard Arabin say:
“You were on your way to my store? On New
Year's? What sort of a celebration did you attend
last night, Miss Elsing?”
She chuckled.
“If you were the kindly person you looked, Mr.
'Arabin, you would take us inside and let me pick
my trinket.”
He shrugged.
“The trays are all in the vaults.”
“But you helped me select the pin that I wish to
replace,” she protested. “The one that Mr. Black-
mar bought for me.”
Arabin touched the cleft in his chin with a fore-
finger that, despite the glove that covered it, Baird
knew to be as meticulously cared for as a woman's,
and to be as soft and tenderly shaped.
“I know!” exclaimed the jeweler. “To serve you,
Miss Elsing—come !"
There were an exchange of greetings with an


70
UNEASY STREET
obsequious watchman, the rolling-back of iron shut-
ter-doors, the unlocking of an inner door, and then
the trio were inside the great main room of Arabin's.
It was not absolutely deserted, Baird noted. This
place, whose vaults held millions of dollars in gold
and precious stones, was guarded as the Bank of
England is probably guarded. But Arabin's pride-
ful explanations as to the electric wirings, the
marksmanship and proved courage of the special
detectives who lounged around rolled off Baird's
ears. He only knew that an unhappy fate had con-
trived against him. How many people in all New
York were well-enough acquainted with Arabin to
achieve entrance to his shop on a holiday? It gave
him, though, another light upon the possible social
importance of Eileen Elsing.
Arabin was no absentee owner, no owner who al-
lowed others to do his work. He might be some-
what too bland an individual, but he was an artist,
and took an artist's pride in his achievements. He
knew, Baird gathered, the exact disposition of every
article in his establishment. Five minutes after they
were in his private office, Eileen was looking at a
pin.
“I was extremely fond of the design of the other
—could it be duplicated, Mr. Arabin? Just the
least change ” She pointed to the setting of one
of the larger diamonds. “All the large ones? Could
the settings be changed?”
Arabin smiled.
“For you, Miss Elsing, all things can be done."
She nodded carelessly. Baird noticed that, now


72
UNEASY STREET
Arabin bowed ingratiatingly. He was not a gen-
tleman. A gentleman would have laughed at the
idea of a deposit when this transaction was more of
a favor on the jeweler's part than a business deal.
However, being a business man—as well as an artist
-all the time probably accounted for Arabin's
great success.
“Why, certainly, Captain,” said the jeweler. “A
couple of hundred, shall we say? And you wish it
sent?"
Baird handed him two hundred-dollar bills. Ara-
bin scribbled a receipt.
“I'm going to Donchester; I'll be back in New
York in—a couple of days— "
"It will take at least that long for the resetting,
Captain," assented Arabin. “Friday, then. Would
you care to look round the building?”
Baird mumbled an excuse. He must catch a train.
Eileen had apparently been paying no attention to
the conversation, being too absorbed, it seemed, in
looking at the pin, which she now handed to the
jeweler.
"All settled? You're a dear thing, Mr. Arabin,
to take us in here."
"I will be dearer than that,” he told her. "I
shall say nothing to our friends as to this most
amazing lapse of memory of yours. To go shop-
ping on New Year's, - You must have welcomed
in the New Year.”
Outside, the succession of bolted doors and iron
shutter-doors having been passed again, the girl
spoke to Baird.


UNEASY STREET 73
“Friday, did he say? Then-suppose you bring
it to my apartment and dine with me? Eh?”
He stammered an assent. He hailed a taxi. At
its door, she looked at him regretfully.
“Sorry I can't ask you to come along, but I must
pay a duty call in Gramercy Park—and you've to
go to your hotel, I suppose?”
He nodded. She flashed him a smile and was gone.
Thirty-five hundred dollars! He turned back to
Arabin's. He'd cancel the order! He'd get his two
hundred back and leave New York and never return!
How on earth could he ever possibly pay for it?
How dared this girl-she was a snob, too, he'd just
discovered, in addition to those other traits of char-
acter to which he objected—how dared she entrust
him with a bauble worth that amount of money? It
was her own carelessness, in the first place, wearing
it insecurely clasped. And she'd said that it was
a gift from an aunt last night, and to-day brazenly
admitted that Blackmar had given it to her. For a
girl like that—to worry— Jimmy Ladd had as-
sured him positively that there would be a place for
him in his father's firm. The salary would be well,
large. He might be able to buy the pin from his
salary_delay, some weeks, its presentation. If he
didn't buy the pin now, his opportunity with Ladd
was gone.
And, anyway, he must go to Donchester and raise
the thousand that he had borrowed-he shivered
slightly at the word–from the canvas trunk. Thou-
sand? He'd only spent three hundred of it so far.
On the first step of the short flight that led to


74
UNEASY STREET
Arabin's, while the watchman looked at him with
ready recognition, he stopped. No need of speaking
to the jeweler now. His deposit covered ten times
over the expense of the alteration in the setting. He
could wait until day after to-morrow, anyway.
There was no hurry.


VI
D ON’T worry,” “Worry killed a cat.” “Attune
yourself to the infinite and— ”
The doctors began it, or thought that they did.
As a matter of fact, when religion first emerged
from the fearsome fog of superstition, it told man to
hold to faith in the goodness of God-in other
words, not to worry.
War itself, with its tendencies toward fatalism,
teaches one not to worry. But Baird, fresh from
warfare, crumpled a newspaper and threw it on the
floor of the train. He had read an article which
told that all ills are of the mind. "If,” said the
author, “we attune ourselves to the infinite "
Security had come to Baird upon his return to
the Tramby. The clerk who handed him his key
was smilingly courteous; the elevator-boy was al-
most obsequious. In his absence, the maid had at-
tended to his room. The big trunk was undisturbed.
Surely there was nothing of suspicion in the hotel
that related to Baird.
His first impulse, upon learning the cost of the
trinket for Eileen Elsing, had been to cancel his
order. His second was to postpone cancellation.
His third was the same as his first.
But as yet there was no hue and cry. The
.
75


UNEASY STREET 77
world. Of course, a person could be happy without
money, but it was very hard to be comfortable
without it.
Back in the Hotel Tramby was a trunk that con-
tained more than two hundred thousand dollars.
With that much money– It was then that his eye
spied the don't-worry article.
His lips twisted in a sneer as he threw the paper
down. Philosophy for fools! How could a man
help worrying when he had incurred obligations
that were beyond his ability to meet?
But it was a long ride to Donchester. Baird had
ample time in which to review the past twenty-four
hours. It was quite true that he had lost Eileen
Elsing's pin. But one cannot work in a real-estate
office without acquiring a smattering of law. He
remembered that one of the clerks had been attend-
ing night law-school a few years before. Facing
an examination in a subject termed “Bailments,” he
had asked Baird to read him certain questions and
check up on his answers.
And what, as Baird remembered it, had been the
responsibility of a person who, for accommodation,
not for cash, acted as custodian of the property of
another? To use ordinary care-no more.
Well, he had certainly used ordinary care. He
had put Miss Elsing's pin in his pocket. He would
have done no more with a jewel of his own. Cer-
tainly there was no legal obligation on his part to
replace the pin. As for the moral obligation—that
was different. Of course, he should repay. But if
he couldn't? Well, all he had to do was tell her so.


78
UNEASY STREET
Before his eyes floated the face of the girl. He
could see those perfect eyebrows lifted, could see the
faint curl of the red lips, could almost feel the
contempt in the hot gray eyes. And she would tell
Blackmar. He could hear their conversation.
“Baird get your pin, Eileen?” Blackmar would
ask.
The girl would shrug her smooth, satiny shoul-
ders.
“I understand that he's just a bookkeeper on a
spree. I suppose that his salary would pay for it
in a year or two,” she'd say.
“Nasty little rotter!" Blackmar would sneer. “Oh,
well, when a beggar's on horseback, he likes to pre-
tend that he's a cavalier. I'll have it sent up to-
morrow.”
And they would dismiss him from their thoughts,
save when they met Jimmy Ladd, at whom they
would good-humoredly jibe for introducing a
welsher into their lives.
A welsher! And Jimmy Ladd would think of his
old comrade in arms as a man too poor in spirit to
confess that he was poor in worldly goods.
Baird, in his room at the Portland, in Donchester
-a room whose dinginess offended his eye after the
luxury of the Tramby-awakened next morning with
his mind made up. He must pay the price, the price
of humiliation. Furthermore, he wouldn't sell his
property. He'd taken three hundred and fifty dol-
lars from the canvas trunk. To pay his bill at the
Tramby—well, a loan of four hundred dollars would
be more than enough, counting what he still had


UNEASY STREET
79
with him. He'd give a mortgage for that much. If
he sold the land, he'd be under the temptation of
spending it, and it was his only security against mis-
hap.
Of course, it might be argued that he ought to
realize all that he could and give Eileen Elsing the
proceeds on account, but—if he waited until condi-
tions in the real-estate market were better, he would
realize just so much more. It would go to her,
he told himself sternly. She'd have to wait.
He breakfasted hurriedly. He was at the office
of Raymond & Gerritt at two minutes past nine. He
got right down to business with the real-estate men.
He waved aside congratulations upon his safe re-
turn from France.
“You know my lot in Linestream?” Gerritt, the
junior partner, nodded assent. “I want to borrow
four hundred on it,” said Baird. Gerritt pursed his
lips.
"All right. But why don't you sell? We have a
client who'll pay twelve hundred --"
“You offered me fifteen hundred two years ago,"
said Baird.
“The real-estate market is stagnant,” remarked
Gerritt. “However, our client might go to thirteen
hundred.”
Baird shook his head.
“Don't want to sell. I want four hundred for
oh, make it a couple of years. And I want the
money to-day—this morning."
Gerritt nodded.
“Have it for you at noon. But prices are sag-


80
UNEASY STREET
ging, Baird. Better take thirteen hundred and get
out from under.”
“Thanks, no,” said Baird. “I'll be back at noon,
then.”
Outside, he whistled softly. Realty conditions
weren't as bad as he'd pessimistically imagined. An
offhand offer of thirteen hundred meant that, if he
had time to bargain, he might get as much as he'd
been offered two years ago. Oh, well-all the more
proof that, if he hung on a few months, he'd get,
perhaps, two thousand. Better for Miss Elsing to
wait a few months and for him to get more.
He turned toward the office of Robbins & Robbins.
The stenographer was the first to spy him. She
gave a little shriek. The other clerks saw him; he
was in the midst of a congratulatory little throng
that did much to restore the self-esteem that he had
lost in the last two days.
“The bosses in?” His voice unconsciously low-
ered, and he flushed resentfully. He, lately an of-
ficer in the United States army, whispered when he
mentioned the men who had employed him.
Andrews, one of the salesmen, winked warningly.
“Better handle 'em careful, old top. You know,
the old New England conscience stuff.”
Baird stared.
“I don't get you,” he said.
Andrews shrugged.
“Your little party at the Central night before
last."
“What about it?" demanded Baird. He colored
again.


UNEASY STREET
81
Andrews winked; there was extreme sophistica-
tion, so Andrews thought, in the wink.
“New Year's comes but once a year, of course,
he said. “But this slipping the kale into a lady's
stocking You know," went on Andrews, “it
isn't done in Donchester.”
“Who saw me?” demanded Baird.
“Herbert,” replied the salesman. “He was over
on some business or other. Got back yesterday
afternoon. Told us all about it--some swell friends
you must have, all right,” he said enviously. “Well,
Herbert didn't stop in the outer office. He told the
bosses. Mamie”—he referred to the stenographer-
“was in there. And the old boys were sure shocked.”
Baird squared his shoulders. “Herbert” was the
nephew of the two brothers Robbins. He was not
employed by the firm, but, an attorney, he did con-
siderable work for them. It was just like the sneak-
ing little slacker-Herbert had claimed a dependent
in the draft who, Baird had known, was not as de-
pendent as young Robbins pretended-to tell his
uncles. He walked brusquely into the inner office.
The two brothers Robbins sat at twin desks.
Clean-shaven, with upper lips somewhat too long
and thin for generosity, they looked almost like
twins.
“I've come back to work,” said Baird tersely. He
didn't care a hoot whether they liked his manner or
not. Listening to gossip about a man who'd just
returned from abroad
Both brothers rose. They shook hands con-


82
UNEASY STREET
strainedly. Each seemed to wait for the other to
speak.
“You telegraphed me,” Baird said.
The younger cleared his throat.
“Why, yes, of course, Baird, of course. But I
ah "
The elder brother took up the burden.
“We-ah-we'd hoped, Baird, that participation
in the great crusade would have-ah-er-purified
you, as it were, by fire, and—ah ”
He stopped, helplessly. Baird eyed him coldly.
Within him was rising a resentment that fought for
outlet.
“But even if I'm not purified,” he said, “my job
is waiting for me?”
“Certainly, certainly,” said the elder brother.
"Most assuredly, but-er—we were most surprised
-most surprised at hearing of your conduct night
before last in New York."
“Yes? Just what did I do that surprised you?”
asked Baird.
The brothers looked at each other.
“You were drinking-drinking most heavily, Mr.
Baird. And you know that we permit none of our
employees to drink. We shall most certainly insist
upon an assurance, Mr. Baird, that, while you are
in our employ, you refrain utterly from touching
liquor.”
“I see. Any other little things you want me to
promise?”
The elder brother frowned.
“Your attitude is not conciliatory, Mr. Baird,”
ast in New Yorbaring of your most surprised


UNEASY STREET
83
he said reprovingly. “And there is something else.
Putting money in a waitress's stocking is not-ah-
the sort of thing that we can countenance."
"I see," said Baird. Impulsive, hot-tempered,
their seeming injustice fired him to instant wrath.
“Don't want me to take a class in Sunday-school,
do you?” he queried.
“Now, now, Mr. Baird; this is not at all the sort
of way to talk,” remonstrated the younger brother.
“How about the way you're talking to me?” de-
manded Baird. "Is it any of your business what I
do outside this office?”
"It certainly is !” snapped the elder brother. “No
employee of ours can be outrageously and publicly
immoral.”
“There were some fairly respectable citizens in
the Central Tuesday night,” said Baird.
The brothers sniffed.
“Donchester, thank God, has different standards
of respectability from New York,” said the younger.
“Your nephew was there,” said Baird.
The brothers stiffened.
“As a sightseer,” said the elder. “Not as a par-
ticipant in a godless orgy."
“That's what he tells you."
The brothers exchanged glances.
“Your manner," said the younger, “is not-er-
repentant, Mr. Baird.”
The flame of anger burned brightly now.
“If I were, I'd tell God about it--not you two!"
he cried. “Does a job here mean that I must apolo-


84
UNEASY STREET
gize for everything you don't happen to approve of?
Because, if it does, I don't want your job.”
The partners stared at him. The man who had
left them eighteen months ago had been a meek per-
son.
“While you are in this frame of mind,” said the
elder, “it would perhaps be as well if you did not
come back, Mr. Baird.”
“You said it just ahead of me,” said Baird.
He walked, almost blindly, from the office. He
responded curtly to the questions of the clerks in the
outer office. “I'm through,” he told them. “Those
godly gentlemen are too much for me. They'd fore-
close a mortgage with a grin, but because a man at-
tends a New Year's party- " He stalked from
the building.
From a cigar store he called up Raymond &
Gerritt.
“I'll take that thirteen hundred if I can get the
cash by noon,” he told the junior partner.
“You'll have it by noon," Gerritt promised.


VII
THE night clerk at the Tramby greeted Baird
1 by name. His smile, as he handed over the
room key, was cordial.
“No mail, Captain,” he said.
His nonchalant manner restored momentarily
Baird's confidence, which had lessened as the dis-
tance to the Tramby had lessened. If anything
was wrong, surely the clerk's manner would have
indicated it.
In his room, with the door carefully locked be-
hind him, he examined his trunk. Its contents were
still undisturbed. He sat down on the edge of the
bed and wiped his forehead with a trembling hand.
It had been a full day! Definitely he had cut all
ties that had bound him to his former life. Don-
chester lay behind, not merely the five-hour train-
journey but a cycle of existence in the rear.
Forty-eight hours' ago, Baird had been an easy-
going sort of chap, adaptable, content, averagely
ambitious. But to-night-
Excitement had carried him along through the
forenoon and half the afternoon in Donchester.
But once aboard the train, with the proceeds of the
sale of his Linestream property in his pocket, reac-
85


86
UNEASY STREET
tion had set in. Up to now, he had assumed that, if,
in his absence, a search of his trunk should reveal
the money therein, he could deny all knowledge of
the matter.
But, as the train sped along toward New York,
doubt began to arise. For instance, he would have
to convince the hotel people—the police, too—that
it was quite reasonable to assume that whoever had
left the money had possessed a key to Baird's trunk.
Of course, it was not an impossibility that a
stranger should own such a key, but it was rather an
incredibility. He had no clear idea of what his
actions would be if suspicion met him at the hotel.
Now, with the contents of the canvas trunk in-
tact, he could realize how dangerous had been his
position while he had been away. For if it had been
discovered, and its rightful owner had known the
exact amount that should have been in it- Come
to think of it, the canvas trunk was packed most
oddly. The money had been thrust in higgledy-
piggledy. And you simply couldn't get around the
dazing fact that there had been no hue and cry
raised about its loss.
There had been no inquiry made about this money!
That was the great outstanding fact, potential of
illicit profit, pregnant with possibility.
He rose to his feet, with a shrug of his shoulders,
as though tossing away a physical burden. He
walked to the telephone. The sort of thoughts that
were seething in his brain were not the proper guests
for his mind to entertain. He'd been long enough in


UNEASY STREET 87
his room for him to have discovered the money. If
he telephoned now, he would be acquitted of any
possible charge that anyone could bring against him.
Whereas, if he delayed, question might be raised
against his honesty.
His honesty! The legacy of generations of de-
cent, law-abiding men and respectable, modest
women! Why, he wasn't even dreaming of tossing
that legacy aside! It had been all right enough to
borrow, for twenty-four or thirty-six hours, money
that he could replace without difficulty, but-
The telephone-bell rang as he lifted the receiver
from the hook.
“Captain Baird?”
He left a delightful shiver run up his back. The
last voice that he had expected to hear, yet the most
welcome.
"Miss Elsing!"
Her laugh was merry.
“Do you mean it, Captain Baird?”
“Mean what?” he stammered.
She laughed again.
“I'm a vain thing, Captain Baird. Do you know,
I'm so conceited that I thought that your voice
sounded, well-pleased.”
“My voice is the truest barometer of my heart,"
he assured her.
“You've improved," she told him. “Does home
always do that for you?”
“New York is my home now,” he answered.
“Its effect is almost instant, isn't it?”


88
UNEASY STREET
“Perhaps it isn't New York that's the cause;
it might be you,” he said.
“Do you know,” she laughed, “that there isn't
a great deal of sense to what you say?"
“Do you demand sanity from your worshipers?”
“Aren't we breathless, though?”
“Why delay?” he demanded.
“Why, indeed!”
It was the merest hint at flirtation, but-Baird
thrilled.
“I suppose,” she said, “that you're wondering
why I am so unmaidenly, not to say brazen, as to
telephone you?”
“Do we question the gifts of the gods?” he re-
torted.
The faintest, most delightful whistle came along
the wire.
“Captain Baird, you amaze me! I feared you
were a stick."
“And now the stick puts forth leaves."
“Pretty flowers,” she countered.
“I am bowing," he told her.
“I courtesy to you, Captain Baird. But I
didn't phone for all this, delightful though it is.
You didn't know my address. And you are to dine
with me to-morrow evening. The Creighton Arms,
on West Fifty-ninth Street, at seven.”
“I suppose,” he said, “that Jimmy would have
told me.”
"Intimating, forward youth, that I thought up
an excuse?”


UNEASY STREET 89
“Did you?” he asked.
“For your vanity, you shall be punished, sir. I
shall invite Jimmy to dinner "
“No!” he begged.
“And Sam Blackmar.” She was very severe.
“No! No!” he cried. “The Constitution says
that we are not to suffer cruel and unusual punish-
ments, Miss Elsing.”
“Well—you should be punished, you know. I
might-heap coals of fire on your head. I might
admit that my telephoning was-an excuse to talk.
But I won't. Good-night, sir.”
He heard the click of the instrument. Dazedly he
hung up. Of course, a girl like her-engaged to a
multimillionaire-wouldn't look at a chap like him-
self, but - The bell rang again. It was Jimmy
Ladd.
"Took a chance, old topper, that you'd be back.
So excited, anyway, that if you hadn't been in, I'd
have talked to the hotel operator. Must talk to
somebody when you have something to say, eh?”
Baird laughed.
“What's on your soul, Jimmy?”
“On my soul, Jimmy? How familiar you are!
Do you know that you're talking to a man of power,
place, and influence? I suppose, in your benighted
ignorance, that you think that you're talking to
the wastrel son of James McPherson Ladd, senior.”
“What on earth have you been drinking, Jimmy?”
“Who? Me? My boy”- the voice was suddenly
solemn—"you couldn't push a drink down past my


90
UNEASY STREET
prohibitory tonsils if you used a battering-ram.
Roddy me lad, you are now listening to the junior
partner of the firm of James McPherson Ladd &
Company.”
Baird trembled.
“On the level, Jimmy?”
“Yea, verily, comrade in arms! Father didn't
wait four days. Sent for me to-night. Old boy
feeling sort of down. Only heir comes to him. Hand-
shake. "Son,' says ancient sire, 'I have pursued
wrong tactics. Made a fool of you. Now will pur-
sue correct dope. Make you a partner, give you
equal responsibilities, and you will cut the red-eye.
Eh, what?' »
There were sounds of a laughing struggle at the
other end of the telephone. Then a voice deeper
than that of Jimmy spoke to Baird.
“This is the senile sire to whom my irreverent
son refers, Captain Baird. He is a graceless vaga-
bond, eh? I think that he has no redeeming vir-
tues. Which is why I love him. I've been fighting
him all my life, and I'm tired. He wins. I shall
probably live long enough to see my name printed
in bankruptcy, but-
Another struggle sounded over the wire. Then
Jimmy spoke again.
“Age has robbed him of his optimism, Roddy.
Well, well, you and I together will show him a little
business jazz."
Quite evenly, Baird spoke.
“You really think there's a place for me in your
office?"


UNEASY STREET
91
“Think so? I don't know what Eileen Elsing
would say if I didn't fix it for you to remain in
New York.”
“I don't think I understand, Jimmy."
Anxiously, Jimmy spoke.
“Well, for gosh sake, don't misunderstand, Roddy
old top. That was a joke in bad taste: Eileen has
nothing to do with it. I want you; you're the laddie
buck I need. But”—and he chuckled—“I don't think
Eileen will mind a bit. And it will do Blackmar a
lot of good. Success is making his liver torpid.”
Into his tone, Baird tried to put an incredulous
jeer.
“As if she'd look at me! When she's going to
marry Blackmar!”
Jimmy Ladd laughed.
“Marriage isn't going to put any blinders over
Eileen's eyes, boy. It'll take 'em off. Dining with
her to-morrow night, eh? How about Saturday
with us?”
“It's a go,” said Baird
"Fine stuff! And, meantime, be a good boy and
say your prayers with an extra one for all the nice
kindly barkeepers. There's a long, hard winter
ahead of them. I'm on the wagon now. By-by.”
Baird stood a moment by the telephone. All that
he had to do was call the office now, tell them of
the money in the canvas trunk, and—kick Oppor-
tunity down the front stoop.
He walked over to his trunk. Deliberately he took
out of the canvas trunk inside three thousand dol-
lars. He wouldn't postpone until to-morrow what


92
UNEASY STREET
he knew was to be done. He'd take the money now!
Decision made, his mind was suddenly at peace. He
was asleep three minutes after the lights were turned
out,


VIII
MTHERE is no more famous jewelry shop in the
world than that of Arabin's. Its exterior
resembles a great bank, its interior the dream of
Aladdin.
One passes through a revolving door, embarrass-
edly conscious of the scrutiny of a uniformed door-
man. One hesitates—unless one is a millionaire-a
bit uncertainly beyond the entrance. Well-bred
salesmen eye one aloofly. Sauntering along the
aisles are other well-dressed, well-born-seeming gen-
tlemen. They seem to bear no relationship to the
heavy-hoofed detectives seen in hotels and banks.
Yet the initiate know that the tails of frock coats
may hide automatic pistols, that a most husky chest
may rise and fall beneath a correct cravat.
Seldom, save during the Christmas shopping-sea-
son, is there any crowd in Arabin's. The stranger
wonders how the great concern succeeds. And then,
perhaps, he overhears a fragment of the conversa-
tion between a customer and a languid, though
courteous clerk. One notes that the trifle under
examination by the customer is priced at ninety-
five thousand dollars or so. One understands.
At his late breakfast at the Tramby, this Friday
morning, Baird had been attracted by one of Web-
93


94
UNEASY STREET
ster's cartoons in an afternoon paper. It was
headed: “The Thrill That Comes Once in a Life-
time.” A small boy was looking at a circus parade.
Baird had recognized the cartoonist's gift for catch-
ing the quick joys of boyhood. Now, as he hesi-
tated momentarily, he remembered the picture and
smiled at his own thrill. Arabin's was to him what
the circus was to the small boy.
Arabin was not in his office, but his smiling secre-
tary took Baird in.
“Miss Elsing's pin? I think it's ready, Captain
Baird.”
He pressed a button; a dapper youth responded.
In three minutes the secretary was opening a dainty
box. Against its purple-satin lining the pin gleamed
and glittered. In fancy, Baird saw it against the
chiffon covering of Eileen's bosom. There was noth-
ing of hesitation in the movements of his fingers
whereby thirty-three hundred and twenty-two dol-
lars were transferred from his pocket to the clerk.
No one would pick his pocket this time; no care-
lessness would lose this pin. Inside his waistcoat he
buried the little box. Against it his heart beat
furiously. His color was high as he left the shop-
ping-place of wealth.
He was as indecisive as most persons. He was
normal, had the normal brain. And the normal
brain is as variable as an April day. But he had
the element that makes for success in life. Having
wandered uncertainly all round a problem, he could
finally, having reluctantly made up his mind, follow


UNEASY STREET
95
through on the course chosen with no lingering un-
willingness.
He had made his decision last night. There were,
as yet, no qualms of regret. He had decided that
it was necessary to his career, to his success, that
Eileen's pin be given to her. It was a condition, not
a theory, that confronted him. He had met the con-
dition. Let theories go hang!
Idly, his lifting chest feeling the pressure of the
little box in his waistcoat's inner pocket, Baird
started up the avenue. Limousines, taxis, occasional
hansoms, lured from their stables by the soft air,
passed him, crowded with people whose furs cried
of prosperity. Even those who rode the more demo-
cratic 'buses were garbed expensively. It was the
“spendingest” year that New York, accustomed
though she was to spending, had ever known. But
Baird, though unaware that even New York asked
itself dazed, the question, “Where do they get the
money?” felt himself wondering what was the ap-
parently inexhaustible source of the revenues that
the country paid to Manhattan.
He passed Forty-second Street, still drinking in
the wonder of the street. Power, glamour-and
glory! Money meant that. It might be an un-
worthy sort of glory, but surely there was some-
thing legitimate in the exultant pleasure that a man
took in his money. A thing inherently wrong could
not exist for thousands of years. Therefore, wealth
was legitimate. Its acquisition, But who cared
about that? To have it—that was what counted.
He reached Fifty-ninth Street and remembered


96
UNEASY STREET
that Eileen lived on this street. He was to dine
with her to-night, and—he ought to have apparel
suitable to the occasion.
In his pockets were over a thousand dollars. Of
course, ready-made evening clothes were all right,
but- He had passed a most expensive-looking shop
a few streets south. He retraced his stepş and
entered it. An inconspicuous sign in the window
said, “Tailored clothing without the annoyance of a
try-on.” They might possibly fit him.
They could, quite correctly. He ordered a dinner
jacket and a formal evening suit sent by special
messenger to the Tramby.
Farther down the avenue he found a haberdash-
ery. The clerk shrugged superciliously at being
asked to show ready-to-wear shirts, but—there were
some excellent soft and stiff shirts at seven dollars.
They would do, of course, for an emergency-indeed,
they were carried only as samples, really, of what
the firm could do; they would fit, yes, but— Baird
left with four shirts, an assortment of collars and
ties, some really excellent links and studs that cost
the mere trifle of one hundred and twenty-five dol-
lars, and had been measured for a dozen outing
shirts and half a dozen dress shirts. At another
shop, he bought shoes suitable for evening wear.
Then, in a taxi, he raced to the Tramby. He had
no fears, this time, upon entering the lobby. If dis-
covery had been made, he would brazen it out.
But discovery had not been made. The clerk's
friendly smile as he received his key was proof
enough of that. Up-stairs, in his room, he counted


UNEASY STREET
97
his money ruefully. He had spent, in adornment
for himself, in the neighborhood of six hundred dol-
lars.
Then he laughed. It was a good investment. A
man who was to hold a prominent position in the
firm of James McPherson Ladd & Company could
well afford good clothing.
Dressed finally, he surveyed himself in the long
mirror that backed the bathroom door. Not so
bad. He removed the dress coat and the white
waistcoat. It was to be an informal little dinner
just himself and the girl. A dinner jacket would
do— He'd wear it.
At the door, he paused and looked at the trunk.
It was locked all right. To-morrow, he'd look up
rooms. Meantime, he'd not worry. His mouth was
hard, cynical, as he locked the door and started for
Eileen's apartment.
But it was soft when the tiny lift in the building
where she lived deposited him opposite her door.
And it was wreathed pleasurably when the door
opened and the girl herself stood before him.
She dropped him a mock courtesy as he, with a
daring that he had not known himself to possess,
kissed her hand.
“My poverty does not annoy you, then?”
“ 'Poverty'?” He looked down the short hall, ob-
serving the prettily furnished drawing-room.
"I have but one maid,” she pouted, “and she is
in the kitchen. I answer the bell myself to-night.”
He hung up his overcoat and followed her down
the hall.


98
UNEASY STREET
“I see you that much the sooner,” he told her.
She smiled at him.
“Do you know, Captain Baird, I like your pretty
speeches."
They were in the drawing-room now. Beyond it
he could see a tiny dining-room, its table daintily
set.
But the rooms, delightful though they were, were
but a setting for her. He had seen her, sophis-
ticated-seeming, in evening dress. He had seen her,
still with her air of extreme worldly wisdom, in a
snug tailored suit whose boyishness could not take
away her look of knowledge. But to-night she was
a simple girl.
Her hair was low upon her head, a huge mass of it
in the rear, hiding the nape of a neck that he knew
was white as snow. Her dress was white, not nearly
so low as that dress she had worn at the Chummy
Club and the Central, yet permitting a hint of a
gentle bosom. About her neck was a string of
pearls.
She pirouetted before him.
“You like my frock?”
“I adore it—and you," he told her.
Her mouth pursed, but her eyes were merry. He
noted, for the first time, the extreme length of her
lashes.
“I see,” she said, “that I shall have extreme diffi-
culty in keeping you in hand, Captain Baird.”
“You have merely to close your fingers; I am in
your hand now," he said.
She whirled about again. He had danced with


UNEASY STREET
99
her, yet he had not realized how lissomely graceful
she was. Nor how alluringly girlish.
She was like a diamond, that in one light gleams
brilliantly cold, and that in another shines hotly,
and that in another is soft and translucent as a drop
of water.
To-night, she was soft. She radiated not merely
innocence but ignorance of the harsher, the meaner
things of life. And this was the girl that he had
condemned, termed mercenary, merely because, a
girl, she permitted the inevitable facts of life to
mold her career. He didn't blame her. She was no
Hausfrau. The finer things of life-they belonged
to her by right.
From his pocket he drew the little Arabin box.
Her eyes flashed with pleasure as he handed it to
her. She opened it, and from its satin nest took
the pin.
“You may pin it on,” she told him.
Clumsily, holding his breath, he forced his shaky
hands to put the clasp through the shimmery white
stuff of which her gown was made. He exhaled
deeply when the gracious task was performed.
"Shut your eyes,” she commanded.
He did so. He felt two light hands upon his
shoulders. He knew that she was on tiptoe. For
the merest fraction of a second, her lips touched his.
It was the sort of kiss that a primary-school girl
might give her brother, yet it burned its way into
Baird's very heart.
He reached for her. With a laugh, she eluded
him.


100
UNEASY STREET
“You have been paid," she wamed. “There must
be no usury."
• His mouth quivered. Then he forced his lips into
a smile.
“Not even a legal rate of interest?"
She pretended a frown.
“Do you dare to intimate that you have not been
paid ten times over?”
“I could not be guilty of such a thing," he said.
Her mock frown vanished. She smiled.
“Captain Baird, you're nice! I like you."
Before he could reply, a trim mulatto maid an-
nounced dinner.


IX
V OU don't care for them? But perhaps you
I wanted a cocktail first?"
He shook his head.
“Not to-night, thank you."
“I'm glad,” she whispered.
He glowed. It was as though, somehow, she had
taken a deep interest in his well-being, had decided
that alcohol militated against that well-being, and
as though he had cheerfully made a great sacrifice
to prove his great devotion. She had that gift of
making the trifle seem of importance, because it was
invested with her personality.
"No,” he grinned; “it isn't that I don't care for
them.” He eyed the hors-d'auvres upon his plate.
"It's simply that it's all so—wonderful.”
She laughed.
“Hors-d'æuvres wonderful? There is a delicates-
sen store on Sixth Avenue where I buy them, and the
wonderful thing about them is the price they charge.
That's all.”
"I didn't mean that at all,” he responded. “And
you know it.”
She pursed her lips. Her eyes held dancing
gleams. She lifted her shoulders and dropped them
with a heavy sigh.
101


102 UNEASY STREET
“Of course I know it, Captain.” Her voice was
dramatic. “I know that you are thrilled, exalted,
by my nearness. I know that in your heart a song
is singing, and—-"
Her mockery was open now. Beneath it he col-
ored resentfully. She was quick to read his thoughts.
Her voice changed. It was no longer mock serious,
but truly so. There was a little of disappointed
petulance in it, too.
"From France you should have brought back one
thing, anyway,” she told him. “Finesse. Captain
Baird, I'd love to flirt with you, only—I'm afraid
that I couldn't be sure that you were really flirt-
ing.”
He bowed across the little table.
“One might begin by flirting, but the game would
soon become serious, Miss Elsing."
She approved him with her eyes.
“That's better."
She ate her little square of toast, caviar-covered.
He had never tasted caviar before. He did not
like it. The asparagus tips, in their creamy sauce,
pleased him better.
“Tell me something about yourself,” she said.
“There is so little, Miss Elsing." He shrugged.
“For twenty-six years I emulated the clam. Then I
met you. That was three—is it days ago?”
“Does it seem so long?” she asked.
“And so short, too. I don't understand it.” He
looked puzzled. Ingenuous frankness was in his
eyes. “Do you believe in love at first sight, Miss
Elsing?”


UNEASY STREET
103
She nodded thoughtfully.
“There is,” she said slowly, “a certain-shall we
call it crudity? No; that isn't the word. Bluntness.
That's it. A certain bluntness that is not without
charm. Perhaps I was wrong in wishing finesse
from you. The other is attractive. Tell me some
more, Captain.”
He grinned.
“The easiest thing in the world, Miss Elsing.
Has it ever seemed to you that two souls, like elec-
tric sparks, leaping across a void "
She nodded with emphasis.
“Indeed, yes—many times !"
“ 'Many times,' eh? 'Many times! I don't think
that I shall enjoy your party, Miss Elsing."
“We are rather stupid, both of us,” she stated.
“Suppose that you go more deeply into the history
of those twenty-six clam-like years? Before the
army—what?”
He shrugged again.
“Nothing much. Business." His air was the per-
fection of slightly bored casualness.
The maid entered in response to the girl's ring.
She served a clear soup. Her ministrations were
a sort of screen, Baird felt, from behind which the
girl studied him. Yet her voice, while not bored,
was as casual as his own as she asked, when the
maid had gone:
“Business? What sort, Captain?”
“Real estate.”
“In Donchester?"
“W-e-l-1, I was connected with a Donchester firm,


104 UNEASY STREET
but my~own interests were in the suburbs. Line-
stream property, mostly.”
“Oh, I know Linestream. The Cathers. Did you
know them?”
“Eleanor? And her brother?”
“Surely! Bob Cather.”
“Went to school with him," he told her.
“Rock’s?” She seemed quite intimately acquaint-
ed with the Cathers.
“No,” he told her. “Bob left the high school in
the second year. I stayed on. Father didn't be-
lieve in private schools.”
She nodded understandingly.
“So many people don't. Of course, in New York
it's different. The public schools here are quite-
impossible. But Linestream. Yes, of course;
Eleanor went to the high school for a year, too."
She drank her soup. Most emphatically she did
not lick her lips with her tongue. Yet she suggested
a kitten, a very dainty kitten doing that very thing.
“See much of Bob of late years?" she asked.
He shook his head.
“Not for a long time.”
“Of course not! He came rather a cropper."
She rang again for the maid. “So you know the
Cathers,” she said musingly,
"Oh, they've probably forgotten all about me,”
he told her.
He knew her intention as plainly as though she
had told him. She would write Eleanor Cather and
make inquiries about Captain Rodney Baird. Well,
he had known the Cathers at high school-had


UNEASY STREET
105
known them as one student must necessarily know
his classmates. But that was all. Socially, they
moved in a world which he had never, until within the
past few days, even glimpsed.
But—Eleanor Cather would know nothing about
him. Her reply to Eileen must state that fact.
Therefore, Elcanor Cather would be unable to shat-
ter the fiction of wealth which he had, without an
absolute falsehood, just now builded. That he was
socially unknown would not matter to Eileen. His
acquaintance with Jimmy Ladd was sufficient Man-
hattan voucher.
“You've definitely quit real estate?” asked Eileen.
“Forever I hope,” he laughed. “Had a deal pend-
ing when I went into the army. Went back and
closed out yesterday. Going in with Jimmy.”
“As one of the firm?” She was frankly curious.
Baird felt a curious elation at her interest. He
laughed deprecatingly.
“I hardly expect anything like that just now. I
haven't the Ladd kind of money, Miss Elsing."
She pursed her lips.
“I'm inclined to believe that you will have some
day.”
"Thank you. I think so myself. I want it. Does
that seem barbarous?”
“To want money?” She glanced about her tiny
dining-room. “All the world is barbarous, then. I
have never met anyone, Captain Baird, who did not
place money above everything else.” .
“So? Then you haven't been meeting the right


106 UNEASY STREET
sort of people, Miss Elsing. Money isn't so impor-
tant as that."
“You say so," she retorted. There was the sus-
picion of a jeer in her voice. “Lots of people say
so, but I wonder if they could stand a test.”
“Oh, I think that you could,” he said.
Her shoulders lifted a trifle.
“You must say that, of course, if you are to keep
up the pretense of electric sparks leaping across a
void.”
"I'm not sure that it is a pretense, so far as I am
concerned.”
She laughed.
“Nice man!” She steered the subject away from
herself deftly. “So you are to be with Jimmy. Did
you know that his father has taken him into partner-
ship?”
“Great news!” he said heartily.
“Rather!” she exclaimed. “And his father has
sense. Jimmy is not the sort of boy to be treated
as a child. With responsibility, he will dovelop; he
will be Jimmy will be a great financier.”
Something of calculation was in her eyes now.
Baird remembered his breakfast with Jimmy, two
days ago, when the young man had openly admitted
having been rejected by Eileen. Jimmy was a po-
tential millionaire when he had proposed to the girl;
to-day he was actually a millionaire. He wondered
if the thought was running in her mind. Suddenly
he was conscious of a resentment toward Jimmy.
He tried to put it from him. Jimmy was his friend,
his benefactor.


UNEASY STREET
107
“He surely will,” he agreed enthusiastically.
“He is very fond of you,” she said irrelevantly.
He smiled.
“I return the regard.”
“Of course. Everyone loves Jimmy."
He could not be sure of it, but he imagined that
her breath left her bosom lingeringly, as though she
sighed. Again he fought against that resentment
toward Jimmy. He was glad that the entrance of
the maid interrupted conversation for a moment.
There was no fish. Roast beef followed the soup,
and with it were served roasted potatoes and string-
beans. It was, in its essentials, a homely dinner, and
yet Baird felt that never had he sat down before
so exquisite a meal. Possibly its quality lay in the
serving, but, more probably, it lay in his hostess.
He could not be sure that she deliberately steered
the conversation away from Jimmy, but during the
rest of the meal they talked of other things. He
told her of his brief experience at the front, an ex-
perience that had comprised no actual fighting, and
she commiserated prettily with him upon his ill luck
in not having had a crack at the boche himself.
Coffee was served in the little drawing-room, and
afterward she consented to sing for him. Her speak-
ing voice was rich, sensuous, warm, and he was a bit
disappointed when she sang. He had no particular
ear himself, but he recognized that, while her voice
was well trained, it held no particular elements of
greatness. However, it was sweet and pleasing. She
whirled around on the piano-stool as she finished the
Irish love-song.


108
UNEASY STREET
“Like it?" she asked.
“Immense—wonderful-great!” he told her.
“You know perfectly well it's nothing of the sort,"
she laughed. “It's the bane of my life. I don't
think that I'm realiy a lady, Captain Baird." He
looked his surprise. She nodded. “I have tricks
that-now, with all my training-years of it-I
should sing well. But I don't. Not the sort of
thing that well-bred young women should sing. But
another kind of song- Do you know the 'Rock-
ing-Chair Blues'?” He shook his head. "Listen to
me," she said.
It was the sort of song that had superseded the
old-fashioned coon-song. Filled with minors, with
quavers—it was "jazz.” And she sang it in a way
that set Baird's toes to tapping on the rug. It
was the sort of song that musical revues and "ad-
vanced” vaudeville singers feature. It was a song
that depended upon that thing known as “person-
ality.”
And she had it! Baird knew vaudeville, and he
knew musical comedy. Eileen Elsing would never do
for a romantic lead, but what she would do with the
right sort of soubrette part. He told her so. She
flushed with pleasure.
"I think I'm low," she confided. “I ought to be
ashamed of doing this sort of thing, but-if I
couldn't be a real singer, I'd rather be an eccentric
comédienne. Want to hear a secret?”
“Thrilled,” he assured her.
“Aronstein offered me the feature-part in the
"The Girl You Love.""


UNEASY STREET
109
“A manager?”
“The musical-comedy manager. The new type
of thing—the kind that features a singing sou-
brette.”
He crushed his cigarette upon an ash-tray.
“But you—I don't understand.”
“Simple thing, though; I applied for a place. He
asked me to sing. Gave me this song. I sang it.
Asked me to dance. One hundred and fifty a week,
and—I may take it."
He stared at her.
“You may take it? But I thought- " He
paused abruptly.
“Thought what?" she asked.
“Well-er-I understood that you and Mr.
Blackmar—that you were to marry him."
“What made you think so ?”
His eye rested on her bosom.
“That pin, for one thing."
She colored.
“Silly little fib, wasn't it? But I didn't—there's
no reason, when a girl isn't really engaged—even if
I were, must I tell every man that I meet?”
He laughed.
“Certainly not. But—this theater business."
“Well, it's nice to know that I could-add to my
income. Anybody'd like to know that, wouldn't
they?”
“But you say that you may take it?”
She laughed.
“I may marry you, Captain Baird. I may go to


110
UNEASY STREET
Korea to-morrow morning. So many things that
one may do! I shall probably do none of them."
“Oh, don't say that! The first suggestion—that
you may marry me; let's discuss it.”
“It might be interesting.”
“Shall we try?”
She was frankly flirtatious.
“How would you begin? Not with electric atoms,
I hope?”
"I'll try to think of another opening,” he prom-
ised.
“Do,” she said. “Think quite a while. Then,
next time you are here "
"I am coming again?"
“Well, aren't you?”
“If I may."
She crossed her knee and leaned back against the
keys of the piano.
“Captain Baird, you know perfectly well that you
are coming again. You know that I'm going to see
a great deal of you."
“You mean it?”
Flirtatiousness had left her manner now.
“Certainly. But why be intense ? Haven't you
known from the beginning that we were to know
each other well?”
“I'd-hoped so,” he stammered.
“That's the difference between a man and a
woman. He hopes, wonders, guesses; the woman
knows. That is, she knows that if the man doesn't
spoil everything "
“For instance?”


UNEASY STREET
111
“What usually spoils the friendship of a man and
a woman?”
“Marriage?” he asked, with a grin.
“Now you're trying to be clever, and you're
merely horrid. The man wanting marriage—that's
what does it.”
“I promise,” he said, “not to want to marry you
any more than I can help.”
“Fair enough,” she said gravely. “If you didn't
want to a little quite a little-I should lose inter-
est in you.”
“I shall want to—quite a little."
“Nice man!” she said. A tiny clock struck ten.
“It is time, Captain Baird, that I sent you home.”
“So early?”
“I shall be a busy girl to-morrow. In three min-
utes, I want to deliver myself into the hands of my
maid. Which means that in two minutes you must
be gone.”
In the hall, he bowed over her hand.
“I have had the most—the most delightful eve-
ning of my life," he told her.
“You're too good to be true, Captain Baird. Or,
possibly, you're too true to be good—for me."
“And just what does that mean?” he asked.
“Ask me some other time. Perhaps I'll answer,"
she smiled.
He felt her warm hand in his own, and then-
he was in the hall outside. What had she meant?
That there was a chance for him to win her? He
breathed deeply. Plenty of time to find out. She


112
UNEASY STREET
wasn't going to marry Blackmar right away. He
could be sure of that.
A man was waiting for the elevator as Baird
emerged from it on the ground floor. It was Black-
mar. Baird started to speak; then something re-
sentful, something fiercely angry bade him be silent.
Blackmar, preoccupied, did not notice the face of
the man who passed him. Under pretense of ad-
justing his scarf, Baird paused before a mirror in
the hall. He stood there long enough to hear Black-
mar say curtly to the elevator-man,
“Miss Elsing's apartment.”
At ten o'clock at night! And she had told him
that she was retiring early. What a fool, what a
fool he was! Across Fifty-ninth Street to the Cir-
cle and thence down Broadway he walked, taking tre-
mendous strides, easing the wrath within him by the
physical exertion.
But before he had reached the Tramby, common
sense had cooled wrath. Why should Miss Elsing,
having an engagement, inform him of the fact? And
as for the hour- He laughed. This was New
York, where night is made day. No scandal would
attach to her because Blackmar visited her at 10
P, M. Of course, there were certain social laws, but
Eileen Elsing, he shrewdly suspected, was a law unto
herself.
Blackmar was almost engaged to her. Instead of
berating the girl in his heart, he should be grateful
to her for her kindly tact. Good Lord, he'd only
known her three days! What did he expect from


UNEASY STREET 113
so brief an acquaintance? He was living in New
York now, not Donchester.
His pace slackened. His lips softened. She had
kissed him when he fastened the pin to her gown.
His mouth hardened again. Why should she accept
jewelry from Blackmar? That pearl necklace, too.
But where did he come into criticize her? Was it
any of his business? Jimmy Ladd knew about Black-
mar giving her presents. If Jimmy could stand it,
Baird could. He'd have to, he decided philosoph-
ically.


x
THE night clerk's wink was extremely knowing.
T He spoke to Baird from the corner of his
mouth, Broadway's approved fashion of communi-
cating information that is quasi-confidential.
"Little lady waiting for you, Captain,” he said.
Baird looked bewildered. The last half-mile of his
walk home had been given over to visions, great
dreams wherein he played heroic rôles on the stage of
finance, and in which Eileen Elsing had the part
opposite him. From his mind had departed all
worry, all uncertainty. Even Blackmar's late visit
no longer disturbed him. There can be no great play
in which there is no conflict. Blackmar supplied the
opposition essential to conflict.
But his head, which had been in the clouds,
dropped until it stood only a few feet higher than
the desk across which the night clerk handed him
his key. “Little lady,” the clerk called her. Un-
used to Broadway jargon as he was, Baird never-
theless was subconsciously aware that when a man
refers to a woman as a "little lady,” he means that
she is, possibly, little, but emphatically not a lady.
His views as to what constituted gentility on the
part of a woman had undergone radical changes
in the last few days. His Donchester standards had
114


UNEASY STREET
115
been thrown by the board. He was not prepared to
admit that those old standards were wrong, but he
was assuredly not prepared to admit that they were
the only right ones. Such an admission would be
tantamount to clouding Eileen Elsing's title to gen-
tility. For she frankly did things that Donchester
girls wouldn't do. For a moment, he wildly thought
that, for some incredible but delightful reason, it
was Eileen who waited for him. But the clerk dis-
abused him of the idea before it had really been
planted in his mind.
“A peppy brunette, Captain. The real jazz, I'd
say."
“Where is the lady waiting?" asked Baird. He
emphasized the word “lady" slightly.
The clerk lost some of his easiness. He pointed
toward a reception-room. Baird wheeled and walked
stiffly across the lobby.
There was only one person in the reception-room
when he entered. Boldly pretty, dressed rather
loudly, there was something vaguely familiar about
her. She looked up with a smile as Baird ap-
proached.
“Don't recognize me, do you, Mr. Baird?” The
overhead light gleamed upon two rows of very white
and capable teeth.
“I'm sorry,” said Baird; "but I "
“Oh, perhaps you wouldn't. Most of the boys
who ate at Smithson's would, though.” She tossed
her head with patent coquetry.
Smithson's! Baird knew the place well. It was


116
UNEASY STREET
a lunch-room where Donchester's busiest men gath-
ered at the noon-hour.
“Why, yes,” said Baird; “I do remember you
now.”
of Smit, and his "ly. som
She smiled complacently.
“I thought you would when I gave you a hint.
Great old place, Smithson's! I used to have a lot
of fun working there. Of course”—and she shrugged
—“I've got a bit above that now. So’ve you,
haven't you?”
"Eh?” Baird was confused. “Why, I don't know
exactly— "
“Oh, I do,” she said airily. “Chumming round
with Jimmy Ladd and his crowd is different from
eating one of Smithson's stews.”
She leaned back in the gorgeously upholstered
chair in which Baird had found her. From her man-
ner, Baird took it that she intended to stay quite
a while. Resentment held him; there was certainly
no reason why a waitress who had served him in a
Donchester lunch-room should think the relation
justification for renewing the acquaintance in New
York. And at this hour and place. Yet, somehow,
he felt nervous. He hid his resentment.
“You are-working-in New York?” he ventured.
She crossed her knees in leisurely manner. Eileen
Elsing had done the same thing an hour or so ago,
and modesty had not been affronted. But this girl
managed to reveal the larger part of a plump calf.
Her shoes, Baird noted, had evidently cost a large
sum, with their black patent-leather lowers and
white-buck uppers.


UNEASY STREET
117
She leaned forward, throwing open her coat-of
some imitation fur, Baird decided. An evening
gown, of pale blue, very daring in cut, gave hint of
an opulent bosom.
«'Working?” she echoed. “W-e-ll, yes. I came
over here a couple of months ago, Mr. Baird. Chorus.
Show flivvered. A girl must do something. The
waiters' strike gave me my chance to earn a dollar
or two. That's where I saw you—at the Central.
And that hundred you slipped me " She lowered
her eyes with an affectation of modesty. Yet the
glance that she shot at him from beneath her low-
ered lids was shrewdly appraising. Baird remem-
bered her now. His own embarrassment was not
feigned as he looked away.
“Why, yes, of course. Glad it was of assistance,"
he said.
She looked up now.
“Oh, it was all of that,” she said.
There was something mocking in her voice, some-
thing that set Baird's nerves on edge.
“A girl needs the kale to get started in this
town,” she said. “To get her chance."
“Yes?” He tried to be politely interested.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “You can have the looks
and the talent-everything, but-well, one thing,
you need clothes."
“Yes ?” he said again. .
“That show that Aivvered. I was getting thirty
a week, and was an understudy with opportunity.
Well-getting another job in the middle of the


118
UNEASY STREET
winter isn't easy. That's why I took the Central
job.”
“So you said,” he remarked.
“Yep. But the job won't last. No good, any-
way. Now, in the spring I guess that I can land
in some new production. Only, I don't want to wait
until spring for a chorus job. I want something
sure. I want my chance."
He eyed her speculatively. He thought that he
understood now, and he could have sighed with
relief.
“I think I understand," he told her.
For a moment, their eyes met; then sparks flashed
in hers.
“I'm not so dead sure that you do,” she said
tartly. “Get one thing into your head, Mr. Baird:
twice
a
m inte d'
vn.
I'm not that kind. I'm not asking any man to pay
my bills. Not on the usual understanding.”
He waved his hands apart.
“I don't think that I do understand," he said.
"I'll explain,” she said tartly. “The same man-
agement that produced this flivver that I was in is
going to produce another show this spring. I'm to
have a place in the chorus. I don't want it. I want
a part. I'm good enough to have one, too, and they
know it. But—I haven't any influence at all. I
know that I'll make good in time; they'll give me
my chance later on, but—I don't want to wait. If
I had a few thousand to put into the show-do you
get me?"
“I'm afraid that I don't,” he answered.


UNEASY STREET
119
“Oh, yes, you do,” she retorted. “I've made it
pretty plain, I think.”
Baird laughed.
“But, my dear young lady, what makes you think
that, even if I wanted to help you, I would be able
to do so ?”
"Poverty-stricken young men don't hand around
hundred-dollar tips."
He smiled.
“It was New Year's eve.”
She leaned farther forward.
“And lots of things happen on New Year's eve,
don't they?”
Back with a rush came the uneasiness, the sense
of panic, almost, that had been with him when first
he entered the reception-room.
"I don't think I understand,” he said stiffly. His
palms were moist, and he felt color stealing into his
cheeks.
“I'm not sure that I do,” she said. “But-stop-
ping at the Tramby-you were a bookkeeper for
Robbins & Robbins before the war. And army pay
don't mount up very rapidly.”
“Do you mind telling me what you are driving
at?” he asked.
"I don't know myself—yet,” she said. “But
next week I'll know a whole lot. Frankie Landers
will be out then.”
“ “Out?'”
“Of jail—Blackwell's, if you want to know. Ten
days for assault. Mean anything in your young
life?"


120 UNEASY STREET
He shook his head.
“I don't know the gentleman."
Her lips pursed.
“Maybe you don't. That doesn't matter. What
does matter is: do you want Franklie Landers to
know you?”
“You're rather cryptic, aren't you?” he askea.
“Meaning I puzzle you? Do I?”
He essayed a smile.
“I tell you that you do.”
“And you aren't telling all that you know.” She
stared at him. “I can keep my mouth shut as tight
-if I get mine."
He rose abruptly.
“My dear young lady "
“Holben is the name. Fannie Holben."
“My dear Miss Holben, then. I really haven't the
faintest idea what is behind all this. What I do un-
derstand is that you wish me to finance you so that
you may acquire an interest in a musical play. But
I am not a wealthy patron of the arts, Miss Holben.
I'm sorry, but- "
“You're no patron of the arts, eh?” she said.
“Very well. And I'm no blackmailer. But you can't
tell, in this man's world, what anyone is going to be
by to-morrow, Mr. Baird.”
"And what”-he strove to keep his voice level -
“what on earth would anyone blackmail me for?”
“That's what I'm not sure of, Mr. Baird. If I
were sure Well, have it your own way. It's all
right with me. I may have made a big mistake.
What's the number of your room, Mr. Baird?”



HEIM
CO
Wild
TUVAI
JARER NOGOMERY FASG.
"I'M NO BLACKMAILER,
MR. BAIRD."





UNEASY STREET
121
“My room-number?” Something sharp seemed to
pierce his heart. No pain like this had come to him
on that morning when his transport had been at-
tacked by a submarine. He told her the number.
“Would it help you any in getting my point of
view if I told you that Frankie Landers had the
next room-on New Year's eve?”
That his face was glowing, he knew. Yet he kept
his eyes fixed upon hers.
“You still speak in riddles, Miss Holben. If you
were more definite, if I knew what you meant, I might
be angry, but- "
“But you aren't? Well, it's kind of you. I'll say
that much,” she said. She rose abruptly to her feet
and shook down the folds of her gown. “This isn't
an easy town to get by in, Mr. Baird. Not for a
girl. Look at me-high boots with an evening dress.
Do you know, lots of women will do lots of things
for just a pair of the right kind of shoes ?”
"Men, too,” he agreed.
“Ye-ah. Even your kind of man, brought up cor-
rect and all that sort of thing-give him the right
bait, and he'll bite.” He merely looked at her. Her
shoulders lifted in an exaggerated shrug. “Oh, well,
no harm done, is there, Mr. Baird? If I've made a
mistake, no harsh feelings, eh?”
“None at all,” he assured her.
“And if I haven't made a mistake, why—I'll be
round again, Mr. Baird. I want to talk to you some
more.”
“Thank you. I-er "
“Oh, yes; I understand. You've seen all you want


UNEASY STREET
123
to it, but—she looks like a chicken I've seen around
with Frankie Landers.”
“Landers ? Frankie Landers?”
Baird fumbled with his key. He pretended to
hide a yawn.
“Yeh-you've heard of him. One of the biggest
gamblers on Broadway. Used to run a house in
the Forties. Swell place. Quit it when the war
broke out. Hasn't any place now that I know of,
though they say that he runs a stud-poker game
once in a while that helps him keep the wolf away.”
"Live here?” Baird asked casually.
The clerk shrugged.
“As much here as anywhere. Always has a room
here. Next to yours, it is. But he's quite a guy
for parties. Hasn't shown up since New Year's
eve. Nothing unusual in that, though. He takes
his room by the year. I suppose that he's easing off
in some country town. He usually does that when
he's been on a big party."
“Maybe he's in jail,” ventured Baird.
The clerk guffawed.
“Who? Him? Frankie Landers? Well, if he
was, the papers would run a page about it. Jailed?
For being drunk? Guess again, Captain. There
ain't a cop on Broadway or anywhere else in this
town would pinch him. And if there was, all he'd
have to do is tell the judge his name. That's all.
No; he's resting up somewhere maybe in a cure.
He's done it before.”
“And the lady—you've seen her with him?" asked
Baird.


XI
D ERRIBY'S is not unique. New York has other
fashionable restaurants where the lights are
subdued, the waiters noiseless, the orchestra sooth-
ing, the food excellent. But Derriby's is older than
most of the others. In the days when it was ven-
turesome, fast almost, to give a private dance out-
side one's own home, it was correct to have the
function at Derriby's. One who would have hesi-
tated to engage the ballroom of a hotel had no
qualms about arranging for the exclusive use for
an evening of one of Derriby's upper rooms. One
explained it at first by saying that it was so upset-
ting to the domestic arrangements to give a large
party, at home. Explanations soon became unneces-
sary. It was not needful to impress upon one's
guests the fact that one had a ballroom in one's own
mansion, for mansions began to vanish from Fifth
Avenue with the approach of trade. Many of the
most correct persons lived in apartment-houses. The
newer hotels got their share of the private-entertain-
ment trade, but Derriby's stood alone. Derriby's
was another home to the established of New York.
But, though the world knew of Derriby's, only the
initiate were aware that Derriby's, in addition to be-
125


126
UNEASY STREET
ing a famous restaurant, was also a bachelor apart-
ment-house.
It was the merest chance that brought Baird there.
He awoke in the morning thoroughly refreshed. The
breath of danger brought him no panic this morning.
To-night he would make arrangements with Jimmy
Ladd for his future; those arrangements would en-
able him to replace what money from the canvas
trunk that he might use. Let Miss Holben or the
mysterious Frankie Landers make demands upon
him! Those demands must be accompanied by
proofs, and he would not worry. Only, he must
move immediately.
He did not know what sort of place he wished to
live in, save that it must be an apartment. Hotels
were not private enough. So he glanced through
the “For Rent” columns of the morning paper. One
advertisement appealed to him.
Bachelor going abroad will rent two furnished
rooms and bath to responsible tenant. Exclusive lo-
cation. Suitable reference. Immediate possession.
It was the “immediate possession" that drew him
across the room to the telephone and made him
ask Central for the telephone-number signed to
the advertisement.
A man answered. Baird gave his name. The ad-
vertiser gave his own—George Climsby. Mr. Baird
would not mind giving references? "Mr. James Mc-
Pherson Ladd, junior?” Climsby's voice became im-


UNEASY STREET 127
mediately cordial. Would Mr. Baird care to come
over at once?
Baird would. Climsby gave him the address, and
Baird taxied over immediately after breakfast. And
at two in the afternoon, Climsby was registered in
some hotel, and Baird's trunk was deposited in the
Climsby apartment on the fourth floor of Derriby's.
Baird had intended to pay for his rooms about
eighty dollars a month. Yet his hand did not shake
as he signed a lease which obligated him to pay to
the attorneys of George Climsby two hundred and
fifty dollars a month for six months. At the end
of that time, Climsby's attorney—Climsby himself
was shortly going to South America—would sell the
furniture, and Derriby's could lease the apartment to
whom they chose.
The rent that he was to pay was exactly fifty
dollars a month more than his salary had been when
Robbins & Robbins employed him. It was sheer in-
sanity, and yet—the rooms were delightful. The
furnishings were exquisite yet thoroughly masculine.
Four stories below the front-room windows, Fifth
Avenue stretched. Compunction, fear fell from
Baird as the door closed upon Climsby and he was
alone in his new home.
Life was a gamble. One who refused to gamble
won no high stakes. And high stakes were all that
made life worth the living. This address of his would
mean money in the bank, he told himself. People
were judged by the obvious things—their clothing,
their manners, their homes. It was unfair, but-
strangers had no time in which to inquire into the


UNEASY STREET 129
ful. It took him less than ten minutes to reduce the
trunk to a mass of splinters. It took only ten min-
utes more to make a bundle of the splinters, wrap
them in the heavy paper that a Tramby bell-boy had
procured, and tie the paper securely.
Carefully he printed upon the outside: “John J.
Pelton, Peoria, Illinois.” He eyed the bundle com-
placently. If there happened to be a John J. Pel-
ton in Peoria, he would be rather surprised at the
contents of the package that he would receive in
a day or so. Baird permitted himself a chuckle. He
picked up the bundle and left his rooms.
Twenty minutes later, he was back in them again.
The bundle had been expressed from the Grand
Central. He had given, as shipper, another fictitious
name. The clerk who had accepted the package had
been a near-sighted old man. He would never be
able to recognize Baird in the improbable case that
the pieces of the trunk were traced. Rather a clever
fancy, that of smashing it. A man may carry a
bundle, but carrying a trunk arouses comment some-
times. He would never be traced.
In a stationer's in the Grand Central, he had
bought several dozen large envelopes. Into these he
jammed the bills that he had taken from the canvas
trunk. Fifteen hundred dollars he kept out, putting
the money in his pocketbook. Then he put the en-
velopes in his suitcase, which he carefully locked.
A search of the classified telephone directory fur-
nished him the names of a dozen storage warehouses.
He selected the nearest, on Columbus Avenue in the


130 UNEASY STREET
Seventies. Suitcase in hand, he walked from his
rooms to the elevator.
A uniformed boy carried the bag to a taxi. Baird
smiled as he tipped the youth. Twenty-five cents
for having been guardian and carrier of two hundred
thousand dollars!
He held the taxi while he entered the storage ware-
house. He was out again in ten minutes, and he
breathed easily. His suitcase and its immensely valu-
able contents were safe. He scoffed at the thought
that unpleasantly protruded itself into his mind
that his actions might be run down, analyzed. He
shook his head. Impossible!
Of course, he told himself defiantly, as his taxi
took him toward the Avenue again, he had not the
slightest intention of profiting any more than he
had already done. It would be his first action to
replace the money that he had taken. No claimant
had called for the money; there was nothing very
wrong in using some of it temporarily.
It was a line of reasoning, however, that he did
not care to pursue. Definitely he had taken a step;
only a coward would regret the step a moment after-
ward. That step would undoubtedly lead to suc-
cess. No one would suffer by the step. Not a penny
would be lost to the owner of the money that had so
strangely found its way into his room at the Tramby.
In a month or so he would replace most of what he
had taken, and—he wouldn't think about it.
Almost opposite Derriby's was a bank that kept
open until early evening. He had his taxi-man de-
posit him here. He emerged from the building five


UNEASY STREET
131
minutes after he had entered, the possessor of a
check-book and a bank-book in which the receiving
teller had scribbled the figures, “1500.” Mention of
Jimmy Ladd's name and the fact that he had had an
account in a Donchester bank were sufficient intro-
duction.
He walked across the street and through the por-
tals of Derriby's. It was not quite the tea-hour,
but the musicians were tuning up. He glanced into
the main dining-room. The polished floor, the rich
furnishings—he must dine here shortly.
Retracing his steps, he crossed the main hall and
entered the grill. Not to quiet his nerves now, but,
because he felt like it, he had the bartender mix him
a cocktail. He sipped it slowly. He was pleasantly
warmed by it, felt cheerfully inclined toward all the
world as he ascended to his rooms.
His own rooms! He wondered idly what the fur-
nishings of the place had cost Climsby. It was quite
possible that, when the six months had expired, he
might purchase them. Though, probably, he'd want
his own things then. Still, a chap could always be
learning. That oil-painting on the wall of the living-
room seemed rather good. A tyro could tell that.
He examined the bathroom. It was quite large,
big enough for a fellow to splash around without wet-
ting the walls. He'd always fancied having the tub
set in the center of the room.
The heavy fixtures of the hand-basin-silver-seem-
ing—the tiled flooring— He wandered again into
the bedroom. A brass bed was all very well, but this


132
UNEASY STREET
narrow mahogany four-poster was—well, it was the
real thing.
He walked into the living-room and sat down be-
fore the broad window that looked out upon the
Avenue. He sat there a long time; lights began to
twinkle from windows, on automobiles. At last, with
a sigh, he rose from his chair.
Some one knocked upon the door. He opened it.
It was a uniformed employee.
“Could I do anything for you, sir? Shave, sir?
Lay out your clothing for the evening, sir?”
Well, it was worth fifteen dollars a week to have
even the part-time of so perfect a servant as this.
“You might unpack my trunk,” said Baird,
“and— ” He thought rapidly. Jimmy Ladd was
motherless; there would be no ladies present, and
the dinner jacket fitted better than the other. “My
dinner suit,” he told the man.
“Yes, sir.” The valet nodded. He handed Baird
the evening paper.
The valet-he paused in the midst of arranging
Baird's belongings to vouchsafe the information that
his name was Grannan-started the water running
in the tub. Baird began undressing.
The tub had a shower. Baird was beneath it,
disdaining the rubber curtains, when the telephone-
bell rang. He shut off the water to listen to Grannan
as he answered it.
“Beg pardon, ma'am?” he heard Grannan say.
Then: “Yes, ma'am. Of course, ma’am. Circle, two-
two-four-seven-nine."
“What was it?” called Baird, as Grannan hung up.


UNEASY STREET 133
“A lady, sir. I told her you couldn't come to the
'phone, sir. She gave me the number. I've written
it down, sir. She wishes you to call her up.”
Baird's lips tightened. He rubbed himself dry.
But he did not go to the telephone until Grannan
had finished his ministrations and left the room.
Then he asked Central for Circle, two-two-four-seven-
nine. He recognized the voice of Fannie Holben at
once.
“This is Mr. Baird,” he said. “You called me."
The girl laughed.
“You didn't make a very successful disappear-
ance, Mr. Baird.”
"I left my telephone-number with the clerk at the
Tramby,” he retorted stiffly.
"Meaning that you weren't trying to lose me? All
right.” She was quite friendly of tone, almost cor-
dial. “Just thought I'd give you a ring, Mr. Baird.
Frankie Landers got out this afternoon. I'm hav-
ing dinner with him to-night.”
“Yes?” Baird's voice was cold.
“I thought you might be interested."
"I can't understand why I should be,” he told her.
“Well, perhaps not. But I wanted you to know
that, when I meet an old friend, I don't forget him
right away.”
“That's kind of you."
“Oh, I'm full of these kindly traits. You'd like
me if you knew me better, Mr. Baird.”
“I'm certain of that," he said.
“So'm I. Well, I just wanted to keep you think-


134 UNEASY STREET
ing of me—that's all. I've got a week in which to
buy into that show, you know."
"Have you told Mr. Landers that?” he asked.
“Oh, Frankie always wants to know exactly what
he's buying with his money, Mr. Baird. I shan't talk
to Frankie about it-yet.”
There was a sudden menace in her last word, em-
phasized by the fact that the receiver clicked imme-
diately upon it. Baird's face was white as he put
on his hat and coat.
Still—what did she know? Nothing. What did
she suspect? Nothing tangible. She was running a
bluff, and when he called, she had nothing to show.
He looked about his rooms. He could live in Don-
chester and work for Robbins & Robbins for twenty
years and not be able to do himself as well as this.
One got nothing in this world without fighting. He'd
fight.
He switched out the lights and went into the hall.
A ring brought a silent elevator to his floor. Swiftly
he was deposited in the hall on the ground floor.
From the main restaurant came the sounds of the
subdued orchestra. He paused a moment and
glanced in. The huge reception-room was thronged
with well-groomed men and marvelously well-dressed
women. These were the rich who were used to being
rich.
Well, the easiest thing in the world to become ac-
customed to is wealth, as the hardest is to poverty.
It wouldn't take him long to become used to it.


XII
TAMES MCPHERSON LADD, senior, looked
J what he was, a pillar of the church, a subscriber
to charities, and the head of a huge business. He
fulfilled all requirements of the conventional picture
of a financier, even to the side-whiskers.
Only his eyes differed from the generally prevalent
conception of the great financier. For the eyes of
James McPherson Ladd, senior, betrayed him. They
were blue, intensely alive, but their dominant charac-
teristic was mild good humor. They seemed to find
amusement in everything. Baird got the impression
that the financier was secretly rather tickled than
otherwise at his son's industrious sowing of wild
oats.
There are men who are always spectators, who sit
on the bleachers or grand stands and cheer the par-
ticipants in the games in which they are too indiffer-
ent to take a personal part. Baird conceived old
Ladd as one of these. He had devoted himself
strictly to his knitting. He had been a faithful
husband and a generous father.
But his son Jimmy had inherited considerable of
the proclivities of the elder Ladd's grandfather, who
had established a fur trade in Canada and had ven-
tured in teas and spices from the Orient. It seemed
135


136 UNEASY STREET
to Baird that old Ladd recognized that Jimmy's
wildness had simply been the urge of stirring blood.
A dignified butler passed round cocktails in the
library, whither Baird had been conducted on his
arrival.
“Father,” demanded Jimmy, “how can you tempt
me? Knowing that I have sworn the great vow- "
The blue eyes of the senior Ladd twinkled. Baird
read the tremendous pride in the son in those mild
eyes.
“James,” said the father, “I have exacted no
pledges. I have asked nothing. It is true”—and he
smiled at Baird—“that I am venturing an occasional
prayer to Fate that I will be spared the agony of
reading of my own bankruptcy in the papers sonte
morning, but—no pledges, my son. There is only
one reason for the making of a pledge—the oppor-
tunity it affords for breaking it.”
“A quaint philosophy, father. A sweet, benign
philosophy. Almost you tempt me; but—I'm off the
stuff, your reverence.” Ladd shook his head at the
butler, who fought desperately to iron out his grin.
The elder Ladd eyed his glass.
“Captain Baird, you are one of those who can-
er—take it or leave it alone?”
“He sure is! So am I,” laughed Jimmy. “The
only trouble with me is that I can't do both.”
The old gentleman inclined his head toward Baird.
He drank his cocktail. Baird swallowed his. The
elder Ladd moved toward the electrically-operated
elevator in which Baird had ascended to the library.
It was an ordinary enough scene, but Baird was


UNEASY STREET
137
conscious of a sporting element in old man Ladd.
He had exacted, he said, no pledges from Jimmy.
He was going to let the responsibility of a partner-
ship in the firm sober his son. Well, he went at it
in exactly the right fashion. If Jimmy had the stuff
in him, he'd make good. Keeping liquor out of his
sight would help not at all. The old man was wise.
Jimmy was not a child, and grown men must make
their own decisions.
Dinner was served in a room whose proportions
made Baird think of a baronial hall. Indeed, the
whole house, occupying, as it did, half a block on
Madison Avenue, reminded him of a feudal castle.
The very iron fence round its strip of lawn seemed
to speak of numerous retainers, of guarded wealth.
James McPherson Ladd, senior, was not merely a
millionaire—he was an established millionaire. His
fortune was too firmly founded for failure-despite
his jests—ever to threaten it. And Rodney Baird,
lately bookkeeper for Robbins & Robbins, was to
become a part of the machinery that turned out
granite mansions, liveried servants. He was quite
unconscious of the fact that the oysters were succu-
lent, that the soup was delicious.
It was not until dessert had succeeded a salad that
the elder Ladd turned the talk to personal chan-
nels. Up to now, he had been content to exchange
pleasantries with Jimmy-pleasantries that con-
cerned the possibility of Jimmy discharging all the
stenographers and engaging chorus-girls in their
places, and such matters. Baird gathered the im-
pression again, and more strongly, that the elder


138
UNEASY STREET
man adored his son, was proud of him, and, perhaps,
secretly envied him his laxities. Yet he could un-
derstand that, with all his love and pride in his
boy, the old gentleman could fly into fury. Mild
eyes can become angry.
“Was there any particular branch of our business
that appealed to you, Captain Baird?” asked the
old man.
Baird smiled deprecatingly.
“I think, Mr. Ladd, that opportunity is all that
I've hoped for.”
“Pish, tush, and again tush,” said Jimmy. “What
we want is a confidential man. Not an ordinary
private secretary—we can get scores of them. The
firm needs a man to sort of look things over, decide
where some jazz is required, get an angle on men,
maybe investigate propositions that are put up to
us—not from the technical angle but from the
human.”
“It's a large order, Jimmy,” said Baird.
“Why is it? A man who can command troops
knows something of human nature. Not afraid of
the job, are you, Rod?”
Baird colored.
“I'm anxious to tackle it, but—I'm not as confi-
dent as you are, Jimmy, of my ability.”
“I am," said the elder Ladd surprisingly.
Baird looked gratefully at him. The old man
smiled.
“This son of mine, Captain Baird, is a ne'er-do-
well young blackguard—a scoundrel, sir.” His mild
eyes shot an affectionate gleam at Jimmy. “But one


UNEASY STREET
189
thing, in all his wild moments, he avoided doing
he never let himself be fooled by anyone. He always
knew exactly where everyone stood, and exactly what
they wanted. He's dropped into the office, taken a
look round, and told me that one of my men was en-
riching himself illegitimately. It proved true. I
don't know how he does it, but—he does.”
Jimmy rose in his seat. He bowed low across the
table.
“I thank you, sir. From the bottom-I might
even say the dregs, sir-of my heart, I thank you."
His father shook his head.
"Laugh it off, my boy, but one thing, Jimmy,
about you—you're honest. And the critically honest
man is never deceived by others.”
“ “Critically honest?!” asked Baird.
“The man,” responded the elder Ladd, “who dares
to look at himself. The man who questions his own
motives. Jimmy is that sort, though he may not
know it. One of the reasons that I always forgive
Jimmy, no matter what he does, is because he has
never lied, because, indeed, he always gives himself
the worst of his explanations. There are many se-
crets of success, Captain Baird, but the chiefest one
is honesty. I mean a success that is spiritual as
well as material. The honest man, the critically hon-
est man, understands the weaknesses of others be-
cause he does not camouflage his own. Knowing the
weaknesses of others—and his own—he discounts
them; he reads motives before they have come into
existence.”


140 UNEASY STREET
“And I'm all of that, am I?” chuckled Jimmy.
“Rod, I'm some bear-cat!"
His father laughed.
“Your word is sufficient voucher for Captain
Baird, at any rate.”
"And I'll make you hustle; I'll make you earn your
salary, Captain !" cried Jimmy. A thought came
to him. “Speaking of salary—a couple of thousand
a month to begin? All right?”
Baird's heart almost stopped beating. But his
voice was casual as he answered:
“Perfectly—if I only knew my duties.”
“We'll find plenty for you,” laughed Jimmy.
Baird centered his eyes upon his coffee-cup. Two
thousand dollars a month! It was—no; it wasn't a
dream. The hot coffee scalded his tongue. He was
awake.
But the elder Ladd was almost asleep. He had
reached that stage of life when food superinduces
slumber.
“Don't make any apologies, father,” grinned
Jimmy. “I will explain to Captain Baird that you
are an amateur rumhound, and that one cocktail puts
you under the table. I hate,” he said to Baird, "to
have my sire's pitiful weakness exposed, but the old
boy, Rod, honest—the old boy has lost his kick."
Mr. Ladd smiled.
“Pay no attention to my erring son, Captain.
He's a disrespectful—disrespectful young”—he
paused, thinking hard of some atrocious insult-
"galoot.”


UNEASY STREET 141
Jimmy nodded to Baird. The two of them walked
quietly from the room.
“Funny thing,” said Jimmy, when they were out-
side, “about dad. Alive as a cricket, but”-he
tapped his breast—"heart.”
“Serious ?" demanded Baird.
Jimmy scowled.
"Enough to make me get off the rum and behave.
Never knew a thing about it until yesterday. Doctor
Crowninshield gave me a lecture and tipped me off.”
“He's not ill now?” demanded Baird anxiously.
Ladd shook his head.
“Not a bit. But this sleepiness—it's one of the
symptoms." He guided Baird toward the hall. “Let
us grab the bonnets and the capes and sally forth.”
“Where to?” asked Baird.
Ladd plucked a kiss from his pursed lips and
tossed it into the air.
“To Broadway, man. To-morrow is Sunday. The
next day is Monday, the day on which James Mc-
Pherson Ladd, junior, the apple of the eye of James
McPherson Ladd, senior, sallies forth to work.
There'll be no more Broadway—not for a long, long
time. So I would kiss it fondly farewell to-night.”
“Make a big clean-up of your affairs in Don-
chester?" asked Jimmy idly, as they crossed toward
Fifth Avenue.
There was the least pause before Baird answered.
“Fair enough,” he replied.
Within him, Baird felt an impulse to explain to
Ladd. Accustomed to millions, Jimmy Ladd had the


142 UNEASY STREET
millionaire's habit of assuming that his acquain-
tances were wealthy. Surely Ladd's friendship was
too sincere to be founded upon a belief that Baird
was rich. It would not lower Ladd's estimate of his
friend to know that Baird had nothing. But-busi-
ness is business. Baird was offered two thousand
a month because Ladd thought that he was well-to-
do. If Ladd knew that he could be hired for a frac-
tion of that sum- He was not deceiving Ladd.
Ladd was deceiving himself. Silence was extremely
golden, it seemed to Baird.
Their coats checked down-stairs, Jimmy paused a
moment at the entrance to the main dining-room of
the Maison d'Or. Because it was Saturday night,
the tables were almost all occupied, and the dancing-
floor was thronged.
"Some li'l place, eh, Roddy me buck?” said Jimmy.
“But there ought to be some one here to take pity
on us and offer to teach us to one-step- Who's
your friend?”
A couple had stopped on the edge of the dancing-
space, and the girl was waving in friendly fashion
to Baird. Even as he stood, staring rather blankly
at her, the couple moved toward him. He was able
to notice that Miss Fannie Holben had acquired a
pair of dancing-slippers to match her evening gown.
“Oh, Mr. Baird! Such a pleasure! Meet my
friend, Mr. Landers.”
Automatically, Baird thrust out his hand; Lan-
ders gripped it. He presented Ladd. The latter


UNEASY STREET
143
took Miss Holben's hand. He drew it under his
own arm.
"Friends, Romans, and countrymen,” he an-
nounced, “I feel the call of the wild. Mr. Landers,
you look like a kindly soul. You would not interfere
with my innocent amusements, would you?”
“If you wanna dance, kid, go to it,” said Mr.
Landers.
Jimmy's arm went round the girl; they seemed
to swoop out upon the floor. They were lost in
the closely packed throng in a second.
Reluctantly, Baird turned toward Landers. He
met a pair of hard gray eyes, set widely enough on
either side of a predacious nose. High cheek-bones,
over which the skin seemed drawn tightly, and a
thin-lipped mouth above a square chin added to
the impression of hardness.
Landers was dressed to the point of foppishness.
His hair was slicked straight back from a sloping
forehead. Emphatically he was not a gentleman.
With equal emphasis, it could be decided that he was
no dance-hound, no lizard of the hotel lounges. He
was a man of action, of affairs, even though those
affairs might be shady.
His lips widened as he met Baird's scrutiny.
“Fannie's been tellin' me about you, Mr. Baird.
I been lookin' forward to a meetin'. Didn't hope it
would be so soon as this. Come on over to my table,
Mr. Baird; I wanna chew the rag with you.”
“Why—er—we only dropped in for a minute, Mr.
Landers,” Baird protested.


144
UNEASY STREET
“Oh, maybe I can interest you a bit, Mr. Baird.
Be sociable.”
His lips still smiled, but his eyes were harder
than ever. Baird shrugged.
“Just as you say."
“That's nice,” said Landers. He wheeled and
led the way to a table.
“Drink?” he asked, as they sat down.
Baird shook his head.
“Thank you; no.”
“Don't mind if I pour myself a li'l jolt, eh?”
From the bucket beside him he lifted a bottle of
champagne. He poured himself a glass and drank
it with apparent relish.
“Won't be able to get this much longer if the
prohibitionists put it over, Mr. Baird. Sure you
won't? 'S all right.” He poured himself another
glass. “Fannie and you quite old friends, Mr.
Baird?” he asked.
Baird smiled.
“Well, not intimate, Mr. Landers.”
“That's good!” Landers drained his glass. He
put it down on the table. “That's fine! I'd hate
to meet any gentleman that was intimate with Fan-
nie or wanted to be intimate with her. I'm a queer
guy, Mr. Baird. One of these one-woman men. And
what I can't get, I won't let no one else get. Make
myself clear?”
“Unnecessarily so," replied Baird.
“Well, that's fine! I'm glad to hear that. I
didn't know but you was interested in Fannie. She's


UNEASY STREET 145
been talkin' a lot about you this afternoon, Mr.
Baird.”
"Indeed?” Baird was guardedly polite.
“Yeah; I been doin' a little stretch on Blackwell's.
Mistake, but-oh, well, business requires certain
things sometimes. I got the ear of a friend this
mornin', and this afternoon—well, I'm here. Fannie
says you been stoppin' at the Tramby, Mr. Baird.
That you had the next room to mine."
Baird's feet pressed hard upon the floor. But
he lighted a cigarette calmly.
“I believe that I did," he replied. “I moved to-
day, though.”
“Took all your baggage, eh?” Landers laughed
as though he had said something humorous.
“Why, yes,” said Baird. Faint surprise was in
his voice.
Landers leaned back in his chair. His hard eyes
bored into Baird's.
“Funny about baggage,” said Landers. “You
know, I missed a trunk while I was on Blackwell's.
Fannie say anything to you about it?”
“Why~no," said Baird. It seemed to him that
his voice sounded far away.


XIII
M HE orchestra ceased its whimpering minors.
1 Jimmy Ladd and Fannie Holben stopped close
to the table. The girl dropped into a chair, frankly
blown. Landers looked at her with a smile. His
face, that had been so hard, was mirthfully soft.
He grinned at Ladd.
“You shake a wicked leg, Mr. Ladd. There ain't
many gents can dance Fannie tired.”
Miss Holben essayed an expression of shocked in-
dignation.
“The way you talk, Frankie Landers, is enough
tom You're too darned fresh!”
A frown of concern appeared on Landers' fore-
head. Its skin looked like roughened concrete.
“Excuse me, Fannie, I- Let's have a li'l
grape.” Apology was evidently beyond him. He
filled her glass. She drank it thirstily, raising her
eyebrows when Ladd and Baird refused the wine.
“Some dance!" she sighed, putting down her glass.
“You said it !” exclaimed Ladd. “Try another?”
The music had started up again. Miss Holben
looked coquettishly at Baird. He rose promptly to
his feet. With a great sigh, Ladd sank back in his
chair.
“He cuts me out with all the girls,” he said.
146


UNEASY STREET
147
“Steals them so quick! Go on, Miss Holben; don't
mind me. I'll console myself with a bottle of ginger
ale.”
“You're consoled easy,” she retorted.
She danced extremely well. It was another jazz,
and they were three-fourths of the way round the
dancing-space before the girl spoke. Then she
nodded over her shoulder.
“He's sure a bear for action—isn't he?”
Baird followed her glance to meet the grinning
face of Jimmy Ladd. Then Jimmy reversed, and
he saw his partner. It was Eileen. She smiled at
him graciously enough, but he felt hot resentment.
What was she doing here? And with whom had
she come? And why did she have to see him dancing
with this girl, whom The girl spoke to him.
“How you been getting along with Frankie, Mr.
Baird?”
Other couples had intervened between himself and
Eileen. He looked down at the girl, whose face was
too close to his own for good taste.
“Well enough,” he responded. “I notice that you
have a new pair of slippers."
"Yeh,” she said carelessly; "I had to let Frankie
play banker-a little.”
“He seems anxious to play it a lot,” he observed.
“Uh-huh. If I'll say, 'I do' every time the min-
ister pauses."
“You might do a great deal worse," he told her.
“Sure! But I'm going to do a great deal better,
Mr. Baird.”
“He has money,” ventured Baird, "hasn't he?”


148
UNEASY STREET
She shrugged her plump shoulders.
“A lot of good it'd do me. Not that Frankie's
stingy, but-he's an old-fashioned sort of guy.
That's all right-laugh if you want to—but I'm tell-
ing you. Just because he's a 'gam' doesn't mean
anything. That's his business. But take him away
from business, and Frankie's the home-and-fireside
boy. Why, his idea of heaven is a place where the
carpet slippers are waterproofed, so you can wear
them in the rain."
“Seems to me that he'd make a steady husband,"
said Baird.
“Well, then, I wouldn't make a steady wife," she
snapped. “Think, with all I got on the ball, I'm
going to pitch for him and no one else? I've got a
career ahead of me. That's why I asked you for
some backing.”
Baird avoided the opening—or tried to.
“Landers ought to be able to— "
“I'm playing the game as square as I can,” she
interrupted. “Of course he'll back me—if I'll marry
him. And then, somehow or other, he'll yank me
off the stage."
“But if you love him?”
“Where do you get that love-stuff? The only
person I love is Fannie Holben. Frankie's a nice
guy. He's as square as most men. As soon as he
finds out that a wedding-ring is the only way to
get a girl, he either lays off or he buys the ring.
But I don't want to wear it."
"Well, you don't have to, fortunately, eh?” Baird
tried to laugh lightly.


UNEASY STREET 149
"You bet I don't !” she exclaimed. “You had a
nice talk with Frankie?” Her eyes were very near
his own.
He managed to shrug.
“He told me that you'd mentioned me to him.”
“Didn't say what I'd said?”
“Why—no. He " Avoidance of an issue did
not remove it. “He seemed interested in my bag-
gage, for some strange reason or other.”
“Yes. Frankie thinks quick. But I didn't say
anything to him, Mr. Baird. I'm not going to—yet.”
“I don't understand you.”
“You must have a copyright on that sentence.
You said it often enough the other night, Mr. Baird.
But never mind. You'll get that understanding feel-
ing by and by, maybe. Frankie talked about bag-
gage, did he? Mention a trunk of his?”
“He did,” said Baird.
“Of course that meant nothing in your young life,
did it?" she asked.
“Why should it?” he countered.
"I'm not saying that it should. I'm asking if it
did.”
“Suppose, Miss Holben, that we drop a subject
that I'don't understand.”
She laughed good-humoredly.
“Surest thing. Only, get this: When it comes to
a show-down, I'm out for Fannie Holben, every min-
ute of the day. Understand? But I forgot-you
ain't understanding much these days. Never mind."
They walked, with the cessation of the music, to
the table where Landers sat alone. To Baird's re-


150 UNEASY STREET
quest that they dance the encore, the girl smiled
a refusal. She patted her hair in explanation-it
was tumbling down—and left the table to make re-
pairs in her coiffure, Landers toyed with his wine-
glass.
“Some chicken!” he said.
Baird nodded polite agreement.
“Ye-ah," said Landers emphatically; "workin' her
way up. Been a waitress in Donchester—that's
where she knew you, wasn't it, Mr. Baird?” Baird
nodded again. “She's got the stage-bug bad,” went
on Landers. “At that, I think she's probaʼly got
something. But I can't see it for her. Not for her.”
“Have something better in mind?”
“Well, I think it's better. Marriage-stuff.”
“Indeed!" Baird's tone was congratulatory.
Landers waved the congratulation aside.
“Not yet,” he said. “The fact is, Fannie is kinda
up-stage. I don't get it. She's busted-flat. Had
to take a stake from me. First time she's ever done
it, too. Yet she talks mighty big. Swears she's goin'
to have a part in a new show. Goin' to have a piece
of the show, too. I dunno where she's goin' to get
the coin. Do you?”
He shot the question at Baird, and, despite him-
self, Baird felt that ever-ready flush mounting to his
face.
“How should I know?” he countered.
“Well, where there's money for a girl, there's got
to be a man,” said Landers sagely. “I thought it
might be you who was goin' to stake her.”
Baird had mastered his flush now.


UNEASY STREET
151
“I hope you don't think so any longer, Mr.
Landers.”
Landers waved a well-groomed hand, a too well-
groomed hand.
“Oh, mistakes happen all the time, you know. I'm
pretty sure you won't butt into my little affairs."
He poured himself another glass of champagne.
“Didn't happen to have any queer experience at the
Tramby, did you, Mr. Baird?”
“Queer experience?” ” Baird echoed.
“Uh-huh. Didn't miss anything, did you, when
you was leavin'?”
“Why, no. What made you think- "
“Oh, they ain't as careful who they hire as they
ought to be. I missed a trunk, like I was tellin' you."
“You've notified the hotel people?”
Lander's eyebrows lifted.
“Why—er-no. I usually settle my own troubles
myself, Mr. Baird.”
“But theft—the police "
Landers laughed harshly.
"I never trouble the police about my affairs. And
they don't trouble me. Not often, that is. This
Blackwell's affair - Oh, well, my affairs don't
interest you, Mr. Baird.”
Baird laughed.
“They're rather entertaining.”
“I suppose so," grunted the gambler. “Ah, with
us again, Mr. Ladd?"
Jimmy Ladd sat down.
“Eileen wants to see you, Rod,” he said. "Trot


152 UNEASY STREET
along, I'll take good care of Miss Holben while you're
gone."
Landers chuckled.
“Some nerve you got, young feller! But don't
mind me. Tell Fannie, when she gets back, not to
think I've left her. I'm goin' out for a little while.”
“She'll never miss you, Mr. Landers,” grinned
Jimmy.
“You'll say so, eh?”
Landers seemed to have taken an instantaneous
fancy to Jimmy Ladd. But then, Baird mused, as
he crossed the dance floor, everyone liked Jimmy
Ladd.
Eileen was at a table in a box, upon a sort of low
balcony. Beside her was Blackmar, dressed, as ever,
to the minute. He excused himself almost immedi-
ately. He saw some one, he explained, to whom he
wished to speak.
“So,” said Eileen, "you go on parties, dance to
jazz music. I pictured you alone, Captain Baird,
looking forward to the moment when you would see
me.”
“I had no such picture of you,” he told her.
“You shouldn't,” she said. “Who is the pretty
girl that you and Jimmy are rushing so strongly?”
“ 'Rushing? I hardly know her.”
“I'm glad of that. I suppose that, if you were
old friends, she'd dance even closer. She's quite won
Jimmy's heart. He raved about her.”
“To see how you'd take it,” suggested Baird.
She shook her head.
“Jimmy isn't quite as transparent as that, Cap-


UNEASY STREET 153
tain. In fact, he's never as transparent as he seems.
Who is she?”
“I knew her in Donchester,” said Baird. “Shall
we dance?” he asked.
“I'd rather not,” she rejoined. “I didn't come
here to dance.”
“No? Merely to look on?”
"Mr. Blackmar had an appointment.”
“Here?”
She stared at him, recognizing the surprise in
his tone.
“Surely. Why not?” she asked.
“No reason at all, except—it's a queer place for
business.”
"Is any place a queer place for business?" she
retorted. “It seems to me, from what I hear, that
nine-tenths of business is transacted away from
offices. In clubs, restaurants "
“What husbands tell wives !” He laughed.
“No; I think it's true. Of course, woolens aren't
sold in clubs, or groceries ; still, Jimmy says that
Miss Holben's companion is the famous gambler,
Frankie Landers.”
“ 'Famous ? »
"I suppose you'd say, 'notorious.' Well, there
isn't much difference-in New York. A famous New
Yorker is one who gets his picture in the newspapers
regularly. And Landers surely does that. What
sort of man is he? Bring him over to me, will you?”
He stared at her.
“But the man is "
"Notorious, yes. That's why I want to meet


154
UNEASY STREET
him. I'd like to meet, too, a girl who can make
Jimmy rave. Bring her, too, won't you?”
He colored.
“Why, of course, if you wish "
"I do wish,” she told him calmly.
“Very well.”
He rose stiffly and left the little box.
“Go away,” said Jimmy, as Baird approached.
“Can't you see that I'm making an impression?”
“Miss Elsing wants to know if you won't join
her,” said Baird.
“Surest thing—won't we, Miss Holben?” agreed
Ladd.
“Delighted, I'm sure !” said the girl.
“She wants to meet Mr. Landers, too. I'll find
him,” said Baird.
“He's around,” said Fannie.
Helplessly, Baird watched them cross the dance-
Aoor; he saw Jimmy wave to Eileen. Who would
have dreamed that the tangled threads which involved
him with Fannie Holben should have, unraveling, led
to Eileen Elsing? He felt his soft shirt-front tighten
as he breathed heavily. Somehow, he seemed to read
into Fannie Holben's delighted acceptance of the in-
vitation a threat aimed at himself. How much did
she know? And how much had she told Landers?
But Landers had unconsciously given Baird in-
formation as to the character of the girl. She had
told Landers nothing--yet. Subtly she had hinted,
doubtless, that a new admirer was prepared to finance


UNEASY STREET 155
her theatrical ambitions, and—let Landers guess that
Baird might be the “angel.”
As for Landers himself, he knew nothing. Yet
he had missed a trunk, or so he claimed. But a man
who had lost a fortune would not be so phlegmatic
as Landers. Still, the man was a notorious gam-
bler, one who had won and lost huge sums, probably
without a change of expression. He went in search
of the gambler.
At the head of the stairs that led to the cloak-
room and street, he paused. Landers was slowly
climbing upward and, leaning toward him, talking
earnestly, was Blackmar.
This, then, was the “some one” whom Blackmar
had gone to see. Blackmar had spoken quite cas-
ually. Yet Eileen had inadvertently let drop the in-
formation that Blackmar had had an appointment
here to-night. And Eileen had evidently not known
that Landers was the person whom Blackmar was
to meet.
He reached out and touched the banister. Its sup-
port seemed to strengthen him. He stood, awaiting
the approach of the two men, fighting to control his
nerves. But what an ass he was! What if Blackmar
did know Landers? What did that mean to Rodney
Baird? Nothing at all.
"Miss Elsing has sent me in search of Mr. Lan-
ders,” he announced, as the couple reached the head
of the stairs.
"Fine stuff! Glad to meet any' friend of yours,"
said Landers heartily.
Baird glanced at Blackmar. His respect for that


156
UNEASY STREET
gentleman mounted. For there was not the slightest
indication that Blackmar objected to the presenta-
tion. Yet—he must object, thought Baird. A man
does not wish the girl whom he is to marry to meet
notorious characters. Then he shrugged. This was
New York. All that New York demanded, appar-
ently, was that one be interesting. Character seemed
not to matter at all.
“Why, surely!” said Blackmar heartily. He
looked at Baird. “Landers has been telling me of a
bit of ill luck he had."
Baird stiffened.
“Yes?”
"Lost a trunk. Valuable contents."
“He mentioned it to me,” said Baird lightly.
“Yes? Stolen from the Tramby. Next room to
yours, he says."
“So he told me,” said Baird carelessly.
“He's pretty worried about it,” said Blackmar.
“He takes it calmly enough,” said Baird.
“Oh, that's his way.” Landers was ahead of
them, threading his way between tables. “But he'd
give fifty thousand for its return."
Baird whistled.
“That's a lot of money.”
He looked innocently into Blackmar's eyes. The
look that he received in return was polite; that was
all. Yet, somehow, although the room was, if any,
thing, overheated, Baird felt the least bit chill.


XIV
NAPTAIN BAIRD, you take me home.”
Baird glanced at Blackmar. The dapper
man was listening to an allegedly funny story that
Landers was telling. If he heard Eileen's command,
his face did not show it. Perhaps, though, he did
not care. Somehow, Baird resented this interpreta-
tion of Blackmar's manner. The girl rose abruptly.
Baird also rose. Blackmar leaped to his feet.
“Want to leave, Eileen?” he asked.
“Going to,” replied the girl laconically. “Captain
Baird is taking me,” she said.
“These young guys fresh from war certainly steal
the gals, don't they?” remarked Landers. “Looka
there!” He pointed to the dance-floor. “There's
young Ladd steals my doll, and now young Baird here
grabs yours.”
“Tired, Eileen?” Blackmar asked, his brows lifting
slightly.
“Rather,” she said.
She extended her hand to Landers, who bowed over
it with a clumsy grace. She nodded coolly to Black-
mar, who returned the nod with a similar sang-froid.
The two men bade Baird casual good-evenings, and
he followed Eileen to the door. Neither of them
157


UNEASY STREET 159
a hint in the daily papers, and after that a breach-
of-promise suit."
Baird laughed.
“Oh, a girl like Miss Holben won't take Jimmy
seriously.”
“You know her very well ?” asked Eileen.
“The merest acquaintance," he told her.
“Let it stop there,” she advised curtly. She felt
his unuttered surprise. "A girl like that, Captain
Baird, is a girl for simple-minded, credulous men
to avoid.”
“I wouldn't say that Jimmy was credulous,” he
protested. "He's merely good-natured, filled with the
joie de vivre. Because he flirts with a girl "
“Oh, well—Jimmy will take care of himself, I sup-
pose,” Eileen interrupted. “But he is running a tre-
mendous risk.”
“You seem greatly concerned about Jimmy,” said
Baird, with sudden stiffness.
“He is an old and dear friend,” she replied. “And
I count on you, Captain Baird, to pull him out of
any difficulty he gets into.”
“Thanks,” said Baird dryly. “Some chaperon
I'll make!”
He felt, in the gloom of the taxi, her eyes upon
him. He felt that they were speculative.
“I think you would,” she said.
“I am so-er-sedate, staid "
“Not a bit of it! That is, not painfully so. But
you have common sense.”
He was grateful now for the taxi's gloom. It hid


160
UNEASY STREET
his expression as he thought of the suitcase in the
storage warehouse.
"I suppose,” he said, “that I ought to thank you
for them kind words, lady, but I don't. Oddly
enough, Miss Elsing, it was not as a grandpapa that
I hoped to appeal to you. Queer ideas men get,
eh? I sort of hoped that I'd appeal to you as a
man of twenty-six, capable of an affair du cæur
himself, instead of as an old fogy, fit only to chap-
eron his friend whom "
Her laugh interrupted him. It was a merry laugh,
“Have I offended the poor little petulant man?
Well, for that he shall be rewarded. He shall be
permitted to come and visit me for ten minutes, and
I'll promise to talk of nothing but himself.”
Her mockery was soothing. Baby-talk had al-
ways annoyed Baird, but this was different. The
girl was different. His hand shook as he paid the
taxi-man, and the key which Eileen handed him when
the elevator deposited them before her door rattled
against the lock as he inserted it.
She left him standing in the drawing-room for a
moment, and he heard her voice, muffled by the half-
closed door, as she spoke to some one in a room off
the dining-room. He thought he heard the sound of
a kiss.
“My chaperon,” she explained, as she reentered
the little room. She was smiling. “At least, she is
supposed to be my chaperon, but I think that I
am hers. The dearest, most whimsical old lady.
She's an Early Victorian, Captain Baird, and she


UNEASY STREET 161
disapproves of me most thoroughly. The next time
you come to dinner you shall meet her.”
“A relative?” he asked.
Her mouth puckered in distaste.
"Indeed not, Captain Baird! I am abnormal, I
think. -not all my relatives have been-kind. I
think that I have a prejudice against the breed. No;
Mrs. Kelton is the aunt of an old school-friend.
And a most dictatorial person she is, too. She ob-
jects to your presence here. It is shocking, she
just informed me.”
Baird's head felt a bit dizzy. Every drop of blood
in him strained toward her. But love—and what he
felt for Eileen Elsing certainly resembled loveis
different from the lesser affections. If we entertain
friendly feelings toward another person, our atti-
tude toward him is kindly. But if we love a person,
we must hurt him.
“I suppose she came out last night, when Black-
mar called,” he said.
He would have surrendered the contents of the
suitcase in storage for the opportunity to withdraw
the remark the moment it had passed his lips. In
his heart he held no doubt of the girl. True, her
outlook upon life was not the outlook that he had
been brought up to consider the correct and right
feminine outlook, but even though Blackmar bought
her jewelry and she accepted it, he had no doubt
of her. He knew no standards whereby to judge
her kind of girl, and so he must not judge. And
now, with her lips slowly curling, he felt like a
shamed puppy.


162 UNEASY STREET
“I–I beg pardon,” he said. "I did not mean
that."
“Did not mean what?" she asked.
“Why-er- " He paused.
“You did not mean," she said icily, “to let me
know that you had spied last night.”
«Spied? I accidentally saw Mr. Blackmar come
in ”
“He did not mention having seen you,” she in-
terrupted.
“I don't believe that he did. I beg pardon, Miss
Elsing."
“For what?” she demanded.
“Why-for- ” Again he was at a loss for
words.
"For having thought, I suppose, Captain Baird,
that you have been quite magnanimous in your feel-
ing toward me. You saw Mr. Blackmar coming here.
But you would think no wrong, because you were
too generous to think wrong. Generous !" If lips
so lovely could frame a sneer, then it was a sneer
that they held now. Her gray eyes were cold, and
they held Baird's.
"I'm a beast-a low beast, Miss Elsing, but-
you aren't quite fair to me. 1—there's no particu-
lar insult in a man's being jealous, is there?"
Hard, distrusting, her eyes still held his.
« Jealous? What right have you to be jealous?"
“None at all. No more right than I have to fall
in love, Miss Elsing; but, unfortunately, we can't
decide these matters for ourselves. The thing hap-
pens—that's all.”


164
UNEASY STREET
not coming. Good-night.” Her face was quite ex-
pressionless.
“I suppose,” he said, “that if I tell you that I
am sorry- "
Then he turned and left the room.
Westward, to Columbus Circle, he walked, and
then turned into the park. On this winter night, it
should be lonely, and loneliness was what he needed.
What a fool he had been! If he had bided his time,
played a waiting game! Because a girl was decent
to him, had condoned his pettiness in her own big-
ness, he had assumed that she loved him. Well, she
certainly must despise him now.
He came out of the park at Fifth Avenue and
moved south toward Derriby's. As he walked, he re-
viewed the whole evening.
How complacent Blackmar had seemed! Black-
mar's very willingness to let Eileen go home with
Baird should have shown him that the millionaire's
courtship had progressed beyond the hot-and-cold
stage. He was assured of the girl. He had not ob-
jected to Baird's escorting her home, because he knew
that Eileen belonged to him. Yet he, Rodney Baird,
had thought that he could depose Blackmar from
his place in the heart-or mind—of the girl in four
days! He had assumed, because of a merry glance,
that she would not resent his embrace
But he had other things to think about than his
own feelings for a girl, or the feelings of the girl
toward him. Blackmar had said that Landers would
pay fifty thousand for the return of a trunk.
Landers had talked of the trunk to Baird. Fan-


UNEASY STREET
165
nie Holben had hinted— He had been on pins and
needles when, with Blackmar, he had rejoined Eileen
at her table. Yet, because no more had been said
by Blackmar, because Landers had paid no more at-
tention to him, he had managed to dismiss the hints
from his mind.
What sort of fool's paradise was he building for
himself? With exposure-jail, even-apparently
close at hand, he was the silly sort who could think
only of a girl's eyes, of her hair, of her dimpled
shoulders.
Yet to-night, for the first time, open danger threat-
ened. Fannie Holben had been a markswoman shoot-
ing in the dark; but Blackmar- What were
Blackmar's relations with Landers? And why didn't
Landers— It might be very true that Landers
disdained the aid of the police ordinarily, but a sum
larger than two hundred thousand dollars—
There was an extremely black person in the wood-
pile somewhere.
He put Eileen from his thoughts. The fact that
he had injured himself with a girl was not, after
all, paramount just now. And yet, when he entered
his apartment at Derriby's, in time to answer the
telephone, he was thrilled, forgot all about the Hol-
ben girl, about Landers, about Blackmar when Eileen
spoke to him.
“Perhaps," she said, “I'm a bit cruel to you,
Captain Baird. Anyway, I'm asking you to come
to tea to-morrow afternoon.”
He stammered something in response. He heard
her laugh; then he hung up the receiver and turned


166
UNEASY STREET
to the door upon which a knock sounded, his heart
throbbing, his eyes moist with sudden reaction. A
second knock sounded on the door. He opened it,
and almost sighed with relief as he met the grinning
face of Jimmy Ladd. He had expected Blackmar-
or Frankie Landers.


XV
U ELLO, Jimmy!" Baird proffered his hand.
11 “Why should I?” demanded Ladd, looking
down at the outstretched member. His grin took
the tang out of his question.
The hand dropped to Baird's side. He stared,
puzzled, at his visitor as Jimmy walked to an easy
chair and sat down.
“Roddy me buck,” said Ladd, “I wouldn't be curi-
ous James for all the world and the kaiser's ear, but
-isn't Derriby's a bachelor establishment?”
“Supposed to be," answered Baird.
“Ye-ah, I thought so. So you're running two
ménages, eh?”
Baird lighted a cigarette. His fingers shook a
trifle.
“Two ménages? How did you get this way,
Jimmy?”
“Jealousy,” declared Jimmy. “I saw that snappy
li'l doll a couple of hours too late, it seems to me."
He accepted a cigarette from Baird's case. “Rod,
when you birds from the provinces do start, you
make a bred-in-the-bone New Yorker look as speedy
as a Percheron.”
Baird sat down.
“I suppose that I must thank you for the compli-
167


UNEASY STREET
169
“I suppose," said Baird dryly, “that Blackmar
brings you his report from Sunday-school every
Monday morning, and "
Jimmy's eyes narrowed.
“Go ahead-kid me. It's all right, Roddy me
buck. Blackmar's no scented saint, and I'm the lit-
tle boy that knows it. But since he's been chumming
with Eileen, I happen to know that he's playing it
extremely straight. I'm not a fool, Rod. When I
said that a man would have to go to Eileen clean,
I didn't mean-oh, you know what I mean. Any-
way, I came to warn, not criticize. Keep away from
your charming little siren, Miss Holben. She's
strong medicine for little boys from the provinces.
Glad you aren't involved there."
“Just what did she say?” asked Baird. He hid
the nervousness that still possessed him under the
cover of searching for a match.
“Here.” Ladd offered his match-box. “Well, to
be just to the lady, she did not say anything definite.
But I left her with the quite clear understanding
that you were backing a show in which she was to
play a leading part. And so—she's friendly with
Landers, of course. Don't happen to know anything
about him, do you?”
“Except that he's a notorious gambler," said
Baird.
"Huh! He's a whole lot more than that. He's
been mixed up in a lot of political deals that, if
the inside were known, would probably land him in
a health resort up the Hudson. I'm surprised that
Sam Blackmar meets him openly."


170
UNEASY STREET
“Is Blackmar in politics ?” asked Baird.
“W-e-11, I'd hardly say that. But Sam has-well,
I've heard talk about certain traction deals. But
you hear a lot in this town. As far as I know, Black-
mar is as honest as anyone else. Anyway, one thing
is certain; they'll never catch him. Sam knows the
law-and respects it.” He yawned frankly. “A
rumless evening passes slowly, doesn't it, old top?
I'm going to bed. Some diggings you have here.”
“I like them,” said Baird
“And I'm glad that you haven't another little
home. Oh, well, girls will be girls, I suppose, and it's
quite fashionable to have a backer these days. But
why should she pick on you?”
“Heaven knows! It would seem more natural to
claim Landers as her angel,” said Baird.
“Sure would! Only-well, by-by. Drop around
to-morrow afternoon?”
"Engagement. Sorry.”
“Eileen? Not that it's any of my darned business,
but you know me.”
“You guessed it," admitted Baird.
Ladd frowned.
“Hm. Well, the race is often to the swift, even if
not always. But Sam's got a whale of a bank-roll.”
“Maybe Miss Elsing isn't as fond of money as
you assume, Jimmy.”
There was the hint of rebuke in Baird's voice, and
Ladd got it.
“Don't fool yourself, Rod! Eileen is the best in
the world, but-she's out for money."


UNEASY STREET 171
“Well, with your partnership in your father's
firm- "
Ladd shrugged.
“She's going to love the man she marries, just the
same. At least, she's going to respect him a whole
lot, and-Eileen doesn't respect me."
“Why not?" Baird's surprise was patent.
“Eileen has seen me at my Jamiest worst, Rod.
Let's forget it. The best of luck, and-keep away
from the Holben girl.”
For fully two hours after Ladd had gone, Baird
sat in his arm-chair, smoking cigarette after ciga-
rette. Jimmy Ladd had always been an extremely
frank young person, but to-night Baird was quite
certain that he had been purposely ambiguous. How
much had Fannie Holben told him?
His last words had been a warning to keep away
from Fannie. That warning was certainly open to
two meanings: the first, that intimacy with the girl
was not fair to Eileen and would be resented by
Jimmy; the second, that the girl was dangerous.
His mind reverted suddenly again to Eileen.
After all, he had not irrevocably offended. Having
been forgiven—and an invitation to tea to-morrow
was tantamount to pardon--he was entitled to as-
sume that there might be some basis for Jimmy
Ladd's hopeful view of his relations toward Eileen.
And he did love her! She was— How much did
a kiss mean to her, anyway? How many kisses had
Blackmar received in payment for his gifts to her?
Was her chaperon— He rose and shook himself,


172
UNEASY STREET
as though to rid himself of the evil thoughts that
crowded his brain. What a pup he was! In one
breath, he told himself that he adored the girl, con-
ceived himself as being married to her, and, in the
next, he cast doubts upon her that he would not
have felt toward Fannie Holben.
And he was a fine person to set up standards for
others, he who had — He hesitated. He would not,
even in his thoughts, use the word “steal.” He
preferred the euphemism “borrow,” even though he
knew it to be a euphemism. But he intended repay-
ment. The salary that he was to receive from Ladd
& Company, He thought of Landers, of Black-
mar. The first was a notorious gambler; that meant
that he was dishonest. There are no successful
honest gamblers. The other-well, Jimmy Ladd
had intimated certain things to-night. He had said
that Blackmar would never be caught.
Were either of these men—and both, he was con-
vinced, were involved in some way in the contents of
the suitcase in storage—were either of them any
more honest than himself? What was honesty, any-
way? Was it capable of rigid definition? It cer-
tainly was not. If a man owned the only spring of
water on Manhattan Island, would his ownership
prevent the other inhabitants from drinking his
water? Certainly not. Honesty, then, meant re-
specting another's right of ownership provided that
right worked no injury to oneself. It also meant to
respect another's right of ownership if breach of
that right worked injury to the owner. Stealing


UNEASY STREET
179
the water from the spring would certainly not in-
jure the owner.
Well then, using the money that he had found in
his room at the Tramby worked injury to no one.
Its owner did not advertise; he made no claim. When
he did prove his ownership, he'd get his money back,
all right. Baird's salary would amply cover any-
thing that he'd taken. And if it didn't cover all
that he'd used — Fifty thousand, Blackmar had
stated, would be paid by Landers for return of the
money. A man could do a lot with fifty thousand.
It was quite evident that there'd be no public scan-
dal. For some reason or other, Landers wished no
publicity.
But surrender just now meant exposure to Eileen
Elsing. Blackmar would tell her. Jimmy Ladd
would know. The edifice of prosperity, of place,
that he had erected would tumble down. He'd lose
Eileen Elsing!
The fact that Eileen Elsing was not yet his did
not enter into his mind. She had invited him to
tea to-morrow. She'd forgiven his offense against
her to-night. Girls do not forgive violent kisses
unless— Blackmar was a middle-aged fop! He'd
give any middle-aged fop such a run for his money.
Oh, no; it was completely out of the question even
to think of surrendering yet.
Every youth in America with intelligence visual-
ized his future in one word: money. With money,
one had opportunity to meet the most desirable
women. Suppose that he'd not permitted the illu-


174
UNEASY STREET
sion as to his own means to gain ground in the mind
of Jimmy Ladd? Would Jimmy have invited him
to his New Year's party? Well, possibly. But
would he have been able to continue the acquaintance
begun there with Eileen Elsing? Certainly not.
And Eileen Elsing was the most desirable woman in
the whole wide world. He felt strong, capable, will-
ing to dare the resorts—whether to the police, or to
trickery, or to plain violence of a score of Landers
or Blackmars.
He laughed aloud. Why, Blackmar and Landers
were making offers already! Of course—and
shrewdness came to him—they might be feinting.
They could not be sure that he had taken the canvas
trunk. Once they were sure, they might whistle
different tunes. The offer of fifty thousand might
be a trick to draw him on. Well, the trick had failed.
It gave him confidence in himself to know that he
had met, on the field of tactics, two men like Landers
and Blackmar, each a man of mark in his line. He
had them guessing. It was, then, extremely silly
for him to do any guessing himself.
A man who achieved greatly in this world surely
spent little time pondering the consequences of his
acts. He decided what acts were necessary to his
success, and went ahead and performed them. And
big men refused to be bound by little rules. With-
out doing harm to anyone, he could, by virtue of the
possession of a fortune, little of which he would
spend and that little replace, make himself a man
marked for success.


UNEASY STREET
175
The rules were for the losers, not for the winners.
He was a winner.
The smile that was on his lips when he went to bed
lingered there after sleep had come to him.


XVI
M HE door-bell rang, and Eileen glanced sharply
1 at the clock. It was not quite three. She
frowned slightly. Captain Baird surely should
know that this was not the tea-hour.
She opened the door herself, but the smile that
she had conjured to her lips vanished immediately
as she saw Blackmar. He nodded.
“ 'Lo, Eileen! Not butting in, am I?”
She stood aside to let him pass. With the air of
one doing a usual thing, he hung his hat and coat
and stick upon a hook. She walked down the hall
to the little drawing-room, and he followed. A gas-
log was burning in the grate, and he stood before
it, his feet spread wide. He seemed very much
the master of the house.
“Well, you don't seem overly enthusiastic, my
dear," he said.
She eyed him, her face cold. He seemed a trifle
too well-groomed to her to-day. That was odd, too,
because he was dressed in perfect taste.
“How much time do you spend dressing yourself,
Sam?” she asked.
He frowned.
“Probably less than you do, Eileen, my dear."
“Yet more than the ordinary man.”
176


UNEASY STREET
177
He smiled.
“I am not an ordinary man, Eileen."
She turned away from him and rearranged some
flowers-long-stemmed American Beauties—in a
slim vase upon a little table.
“No; I hardly think that you are, Sam.” There
was something hinting of contempt in her voice.
“Meaning that you wish I were, Eileen?” he
asked.
She moved away from the vase; her eyes met his;
her expression was indifferent, bored.
“Oh, I didn't mean anything, Sam."
“I thought you did.”
She sat down on a divan. It was a fairly wide
affair, and Blackmar noticed that she sat exactly
in the center.
“It's a fault of yours, Sam-suspiciousness.”
“Eh?” His face expressed hurt surprise.
“Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean. I can
manage to endure your questions—they're in bad
taste—but snooping— "
“ “Snooping?” ” He was too bland; his question-
ing eyes were too well bred.
“Snooping. You know what it is. Your com-
ing-around this afternoon is snooping. I told you
that I would not be at home to-day," she accused.
“You did,” he admitted. “But there is some
business, Eileen- "
“You could have telephoned. What is the busi-
ness?” she demanded.
From his pocket he drew a note-book.
“American Carpet,” he said, consulting the book,


UNEASY STREET 179
“Oh, look here, Eileen. Let's not quarrel over
an unimportant little pup that— "
“You mean Captain Baird? He was important
enough to win a commission in the army."
He shrugged.
“Oh, I don't mean to insinuate that he's not been
a good soldier, and—what do you know about him,
Eileen?”
“Beyond that he's a gentleman, well bred, a friend
of Jimmy's—what do you know about him?”
“Not as much as I intend to,” he said. A certain
grimness slid into his voice.
“Just what do you mean by that?"
“Oh, nothing, except—nothing at all, Eileen.
Let's forget him.”
“Didn't Captain Baird tell you that he had an
engagement with me?" she asked.
“What difference does that make? What does
he matter?”
“I don't know.” She uttered the three words
slowly; a meditative look crept into her eyes.
“You don't know?”
“How should I?” She smiled sweetly. “I've only
known him since New Year's eve.”
"Five days !”
“You're not a bit amusing when you're jealous,
Sam,” she told him. “You don't mind my telling
you that I don't care for it?"
He laughed.
“ “Jealousy' is a rather large word to describe it,
Eileen. Let's say that I'm annoyed.”
“At what?" she asked.


180 UNEASY STREET
“Well, for one thing, at his taking you home last
night.”
"I was tired of staying there. I didn't particu-
larly care for your friends."
“Baird's friends as much as mine!” he snapped.
“Besides, I was seeing Landers on a matter of busi-
ness.”
“What sort of business, Sam?"
His eyes met hers swiftly, then dropped away.
“Oh, it's too long a matter to explain—if you
don't mind.”
"I don't,” she said coolly. “Go on. You were
objecting to the fact that Captain Baird took me
home. Why didn't you offer to do so yourself,
then ?”
“You seemed to have made your decision, Eileen,
and—I thought nothing of it. But to-day, when I
learned that he was coming here for tea– He dined
here Friday night, It's all right, Eileen, but
drop him for a while, will you?”
“Why for a while, Sam?”
“Oh, because" He hesitated.
“You mean that you know something discreditable
to him.”
“It may possibly amount to that.”
"I don't believe you!” she blazed.
“Eh?”
“I don't believe you.” She stared at him com-
batively. “If you know anything definite about
Captain Baird— ”
“At least," he defended himself, “I'm a friend of


182
UNEASY STREET
I did such a thing” He took a step toward her.
She smiled at him.
“But you wouldn't, Sam. I don't think the cave-
man part would suit you at all.”
“Of course not. Certainly not!” He retreated
a step toward the fireplace. “Oh, well, if the circum-
stances are as you say, why-er-I won't be stay-
ing, Eileen.”
She was infinitely sweet.
"I thought not—when you understood, Sam."
“I understand-quite. Thank you. I'd advise
you not to plan on marrying him, Eileen. Really."
"For my own good? All that sort of thing? I
understand, Sam.”
“Perhaps you don't-fully.”
He moved stiffly toward the hall, then turned sud-
denly. His face had lost its look of anger, was
appealing.
“Oh, Eileen, don't- "
“What right have you to advise me, to-even
threaten me—to insinuate?” She was downright
angry now.
"You have permitted me to pay you attention,"
he protested.
“But that wouldn't make people think us engaged
if it weren't for your-air of proprietorship. I
don't like it. I'm too complaisant. I've liked you;
I do like you, but you ask me to go to a place like
the Maison d'Or, saying that you want to meet some
one there. I go with you. And then you permit
another man to take me home.”
“You asked him to take you."


UNEASY STREET 183
“Why should you permit me to ask him?" she
blazed.
“Oh, come, Eileen; isn't that stretching things?
One moment you tell me that I'm not the caveman
type, and the next you are angry because I don't
play the part.”
“Well, you couldn't,” she said petulantly. Then,
suddenly, she smiled. “I'm a funny girl, Sam."
“You're a most adorable girl!”
“Really? You think so? Oh, I wish that I were;
but-oh, well, what's the use?”
“Of what?
“Of crying for the moon.”
“Does the moon have any name that I know?”
“I don't know," she replied.
“Not-Baird?”
She shrugged.
“Sam, I don't know.”
“Yet—if you married me I'm sure that you
would.”
She looked at him through half-closed lids.
“I wonder. So many men—I imagine all men-
say that.”
“And while you wonder, I'm losing-much."
"I'm not sure. I might not make a pleasant wife,
Sam.”
"I will wager my happiness that you will.”
“A great stake. It's not like losing in the market,
Sam. One can make another fortune, but find an-
other happiness "
“And I can't persuade you to marry me to-mor-
row?"


184
UNEASY STREET
She smiled adorably.
“Are you trying to?"
“I will."
She shook her head.
“No use, Sam-yet.”
“I wonder if it will ever be of any use."
She had been leaning back on the divan. Now,
suddenly, she sat bolt upright.
“Well, if it isn't, Sam, I'll return all your pres-
ents, and "
“Eileen!”
“Sorry; didn't mean to hurt you, but-I
shouldn't have taken them in the first place. Sam,
behold a young lady who doesn't know what she
wants!”
He smiled.
“Perhaps she'll find out.”
“Perhaps. Run along now.”
He accepted his dismissal with a shrug. She fol-
lowed him into the hall. As he put his hand upon
the door-knob, she spoke.
"Sorry if I've been a mean thing, Sam, but you
brought it on yourself. And do you really know
anything against Captain Baird?”
"I've told you all that I care to just now, Eileen.
I wish that you'd not see him.”
Temper flared again in her.
“I think that you're just jealous and petty, Sam.
I will see him!”
She walked slowly back into her drawing-room
and sat down before the fire. Whatever else Black-
mar's faults were, jealousy had never been among


UNEASY STREET
185
them before. And, she admitted to herself with a
reminiscent smile, he'd had cause enough in the past.
She wondered just what his insinuations against
Baird meant. She felt a queer tightness about her
heart as her mind dwelt on his vague accusations.
Could it be possible that she had really, in five days,
begun to care for a man about whom she knew noth-
ing? Absurd! Yet her heart leaped as the bell
rang promptly at four.


XVII
THE rooms at Derriby's were more attractive
1 Sunday morning than at any time on Satur-
day. Baird awoke late. A pressure on an electric
bell brought Grannan, from whom he learned that
the hour was noon. It was luxurious, lying here in
bed, idly watching the valet lay out underwear,
hearing the water tumbling in the tub.
There were no limits to the distinction which
wealth conferred on whatever was brought within
its range, Baird decided, as, twenty minutes later,
bathed and shaved, with the morning paper in his
hand, he sat down before the breakfast that Gran-
nan had laid on a table in the living-room beside
the window.
How delightful life could be, if one lived it prop-
erly! And it was impossible to live it properly with-
out money. Well-he had the money.
The morning paper held him for fully an hour
after he had finished his breakfast. The world was
passing through its most critical hours, more crit-
ical even than the great war which had terminated
only a couple of months ago. He “caught up” with
the news of the past few days, and then spent a
pleasant half-hour with his nose close to the window,
looking at the people on Fifth Avenue.
vy.
186


UNEASY STREET 187
The mild winter had brought the people out. It
might have been a Sunday near Easter. It was a
wonderful thing not merely to be in New York but
to be on New York's most fashionable thoroughfare.
And to have a tea-engagement with the most allur-
ing woman in the world-
The telephone brought him from contemplation of
Eileen's charms. It was Blackmar. Baird felt him-
self shaking.
“Could I see you this afternoon, Captain Baird?”
asked Blackmar.
“What time?” asked Baird.
“Oh, around four.”
“Sorry. I have a tea-engagement.”
“Oh! Be back at five?" asked Blackmar.
“I couldn't say. What was it you wished?"
“Thought that I might interest you in a little
matter; but it can wait. Having tea with Miss El-
sing?”
“Yes.” Baird's voice was cold.
"Fortunate man!" Blackmar's laugh was quite
cordial. “Well, I'll look you up early in the week.”
Baird walked slowly to the mirror after he had
hung up. Last night, Blackmar had hinted—but it
might have had nothing to do with the trunk that
Landers claimed to have lost. It might simply be
that Blackmar was really less complaisant than he
had seemed last night. It was rather bald, the way
he had asked if Baird was to see Eileen to-day.
Maybe the man was jealous. That Blackmar had
some business with Baird didn't ring quite true.
But why not? Was he not the intimate of Jimmy


188 UNEASY STREET
Ladd? Was he not to enter Jimmy's employ to-
morrow? Hadn't he, Baird, been too ready to take
alarm? Miss Holben had undoubtedly kept her
mouth rather tightly closed. Landers and Black-
mar knew little; they might suspect-probably they
didn't even suspect. His own alarmed imagination
made him read suspicion in every casual remark.
Undoubtedly, Blackmar was either jealous, and
wished to learn what foundation he had for his jeal-
ousy, or else he genuinely had some business oppor-
tunity for Baird.
But Blackmar was, at least, crude, if jealousy
had inspired his telephone-call. Baird's lips were
still curled, a while later, as he carefully adjusted
his tie. He thought, were positions reversed, that
he would have more dignity than Blackmar had
shown. Now that he thought it over, perhaps Black-
mar's laugh wasn't so very cordial when he had
exclaimed, “Fortunate man!"
And Eileen's first words, as he entered her apart-
ment, made him believe that he had diagnosed the
cause of the telephone-call.
“Captain Baird, do you always involve the girls
whom you meet in troublesome cross-examinations?”
Reluctantly he surrendered the hand that she had
extended to him, and put his hat and overcoat upon
the stand.
"I'm not good at riddles," he said. “Who's been
cross-examined by whom?”
“Eileen Elsing by Samuel Blackmar.”
“Eh?” They were in the drawing-room now.
“Why should he "


UNEASY STREET
189
“In five days, you have made the imperturbable
Sam jealous," she said. “What on earth will you
do in five weeks?”
“Marry you, I hope,” he said.
“You don't happen to have brought a ring with
you?” She smiled.
“Would you wear it?” he asked eagerly.
"I'd try it on. That's the least I could do, isn't
it?”
“I'll bring one to-morrow!” he exclaimed.
“Please don't.” She laughed. “You tempt me,
Captain Baird, and—I don't wish to be tempted.”
“You prefer to do the tempting.”
Her eyes mocked him.
“Don't I do it rather well?”
He met her spirit of raillery.
“Too well; it smacks of rehearsal.”
She frowned.
“I'm not sure that I like that remark.”
"It is withdrawn, lady," he said. “It is unsaid.”
"It is unheard, also.” She sat down on the divan.
He stood before the fire, as Blackmar had done a
little while ago. She could not help comparing the
two men. Baird was infinitely better to look upon
than the man who had stood there earlier in the
afternoon.
“Why did Mr. Blackmar cross-examine you?” he
asked.
"I've told you. I wonder if I'm wise in telling
you. You will think me vain—or a trouble-maker.”
“Neither,” he assured her. “But—what did
Blackmar want to know?”


190
UNEASY STREET
“Who and what you were."
“A large order. Does anyone know who and
what anyone else is?”
"A philosopher! And impetuous, too. I didn't
think the two could be combined.”
He shrugged with an affectation of conceit.
“I have my talents, Miss Elsing.”
“You don't seem to resent Sam's interest."
“I'm too much flattered. And that you should
repeat it to me "
The entrance of the maid with tea and tiny sand-
wiches of lettuce and bread and butter cut extremely
thin interrupted his speech. He watched her as she
poured, admiring the firm flesh of her forearm, the
round wrist, and the well-shaped hand.
“You were remarking,” she said, upon the maid's
departure, “that I flattered you. I don't mean to,
Captain Baird. But—the conventional annoys me.
And the unconventional annoys men. Yet I have
the better reason."
“Conceded,” he said.
She shook her head impatiently.
“That's gallantry. You really don't know what
I'm talking about, do you?”
He grinned.
“I'm afraid that I don't.”
"Yet you concede that I am right. That's the
whole trouble with marriage, Captain Baird. A
man courts a girl. He presents his best side. What-
ever she says, no matter how silly, he listens to as
though it were inspired. As for the girl, she pre-
tends to a sugariness that she hasn't. Both are


UNEASY STREET
191
deceived; both wake up. When I marry, Captain
Baird, there will be no divorce. I mean to know
something about my husband before he is my hus-
band.” She drank her tea, looking at him over the
edge of her cup. “It is a most unmaidenly thing,
if we must believe our grandmothers and certain
novelists, for a girl to admit to one man that an-
other man wishes to marry her. Yet that is the
very thing she ought to tell him. Not for the pur-
pose of piquing him, of spurring him on to an
avowal, but because he ought to know it. Espe-
cially if jealousy has been aroused. A woman can
work tremendous harm by arousing jealousy. But
if she tells the man concerned - Mr. Blackmar
wanted to see you to-day.”
“Yes. I don't know why. Unless it was to find
out if I were coming here."
She looked thoughtful.
“I suppose so. I was extremely angry with you
last night.” He tried to look abashed. “Don't pro-
fess too much regret, Captain. It wouldn't be tact-
ful. After all-present your case.”
He stared at her.
“My 'case?” ” he echoed.
She nodded.
“Sam Blackmar is worth eight millions, more or
less. It will be more, never less. Sam is that kind.
In his own way, he adores me. I don't say that it
is exactly the way I wish to be adored, but—it isn't
a bad way. He's forty-five, has an excellent business
and social standing. What do you offer, Captain
Baird?” He gasped. “I surprise you, eh?” She


192 UNEASY STREET
laughed, but her tone was very businesslike. “Yet,
if Sam Blackmar tried to get you to enter business
with him, you'd not hesitate to ask him what he had
to offer. You'd be most meticulous. But I'm a
girl. You're asking me I take you seriously—to
marry you. Your character—one can guess only
at that. I have to guess at Sam Blackmar's, though
I've known him several years. But your other as-
sets- "
“I'm not a millionaire,” Baird said resentfully.
“But I would be able, I think, to do for you "
"In the style to which I have been accustomed?”
She chuckled. “You see, I have to be my own father
and question the young men, Captain. The woman
who marries with her heart alone is a fool. And
most men pretend to want fools for wives. But I
refuse to yield to their pretenses.” She looked at
him carefully. “You're not bad-looking, you know.
You dance well; you're only twenty-six- "
“Is it so impertinent, so presumptuous, my falling
in love with you, that you must make fun of me?”
he demanded, flushing.
Her eyes widened.
“Making fun of you? My dear Captain Baird, I
was never so serious in my life. But you're like all
men. If a woman is honest, she's incredible. Blame
your own impetuosity for my frankness. If you
were a little less hasty, I would not need to shock
your ideal of maidenly silliness, of girlish reckless-
ness concerning the most important thing in a wom-
an's life-her marriage. But-do you suppose that
I told you of Sam Blackmar's jealousy merely to


UNEASY STREET 193
flatter you?” She shook her head. “Because you
may be interfering with a very important matter;
you may be causing me to refuse a remarkable op-
portunity. I want to know what you have to offer
in exchange.” She paused.
Slowly he spoke.
“You're quite the strangest girl in the world."
“Of course. I put my thoughts into words. But
why not? Do you”-eyes that were provocative last
night were alluring now—"love me any the less for
it?" He started forward from his chair. Her hands
made a motion as though to fend him away. “That
wouldn't help me to find my own decision. You'd
find it for me, and—I'm the least bit afraid of
you.”
He sank back into his chair. The telephone-bell
rang before he could speak. Eileen went into the
next room. He could not hear what she said, but
when she came back, her face was very white.
“My uncle,” she said. “A stroke, my cousin tells
me. Will you excuse
“Certainly,” he told her. “Can I take you get
a taxi?”
She shook her head.
“They're sending a car for me.”
“I hope it's nothing serious—" He said no more.
From her eyes he knew that she feared. She did
not go to the door with him. He let himself out.
But he could not dwell upon the illness of her
uncle, who, if Jimmy Ladd had been correct, had
not been any too kind to her. He dwelt on the
amazing directness of the girl. And it did not de


194
UNEASY STREET
tract from her charm, either. Well—because she
was right! After all, if a man is trying to change
the whole course of a girl's life, he ought to be will-
ing that she should exercise a certain caution con-
cerning her relation toward him.
His lips straightened. Blackmar was jealous.
That meant that any suspicions Blackmar had would
be told to Eileen the moment that he considered his
jealousy founded on cause. Which meant, further,
that Blackmar must never know that his suspicions
were just. Oh, well—and his shoulders straightened
-it would be possible to return the money to Lan-
ders, or whoever owned it, without the owner know-
ing who returned it. In the meantime, it would be
as well to meet Blackmar soon, to lull his suspicions.
But when he reached his rooms at Derriby's, he
wondered whether it would be easy to lull those
suspicions. Some one had been in his rooms—not
any of the employees of the building, inquiry ascer-
tained for him. But some one who was interested,
not in theft of his belongings-none of his trifling
jewelry, none of his money was disturbed. But cer-
tain letters had been read. He knew that, because
they were not in their envelopes, as they had been
when he had gone out. Also, other papers had been
taken from his portfolio. They had been replaced,
but hastily.
He began to understand why Blackmar had asked
where he was going. Blackmar wanted time in
which to work. Or to let his accomplices work.
Well, they hadn't found anything—not a thing
that would incriminate. They would know, though,


UNEASY STREET 195
that he had received only a trifling sum for his
Linestream property. Well, he might have a hun-
dred other sources of income for all they knew-or
could prove.
But he was glad that the money that he had
taken from the canvas trunk was in storage. If he
had delayed in getting that out of the way! But
he hadn't. Why, then, shiver with apprehension?
He'd keep an eye on Grannan. The man seemed
to be altogether too curious in a deferential, obse-
quious manner. How simple for Blackmar or Lan-
ders to have bribed the body-servant! That Gran-
nan was supposed to be off for the afternoon meant
nothing. He was extremely glad that he had not
deposited all the money in the bank. For Grannan,
or whoever had searched his effects, would have read
the entry in the bank-book. But the questions born
of his own fears were still unanswered when, after
dinner in his own rooms, he finally went to sleep.
A sharp report brought him upright in his bed.
For a moment, until the unmuffled curses of the un-
fortunate taximan in the avenue below floated
through the open window and told him what had
happened, he thought himself in France again. Then
he lay back and smiled. But there was no humor
in the smile; it was quizzical, self-directed.
Life was something like an automobile tire.
Smoothly one sailed along, and then—the merest
tack of circumstance got in the way and—a blow-
out!
He switched on the electric lamp near the head


196 UNEASY STREET
of the bed. Cigarettes and matches were upon a
stand close by. He reached out, and, a moment
later, was smoking.
The simile of the automobile tire amused him.
What bit of glass could wreck his smooth ride now?
Blackmar? Fannie Holben? Landers?
He blew a ring of smoke and watched it lose its
perfect form. Why didn't one or all of those three
persons come out in the open? Two hundred thou-
sand dollars was a fortune. Its rightful claimant
should be moving every power to regain it.
Its rightful claimant! The word intrigued him.
Rightful! Possession was nine points of law, and he
held those nine points. What sort of person would
he be to consider surrendering those nine points to
anyone who could not prove a perfect title? And
what sort of person would he be to worry until the
owner of that clear title appeared?
People knew about that money-yes. Landers,
Blackmar, and Fannie Holben. But knowledge
meant nothing. Why didn't they demand it? Be-
cause, obviously, it wasn't theirs. Then whose was
it? How could he, Baird, do any harm to that
owner by mere sequestration of the money?
That was all it amounted to-sequestration. But,
inasmuch as there was no hue and cry raised about
the money just now, it behooved him to wait until
the owner openly declared himself.
Indeed, by seeking out the person who had placed
it in his room at the Tramby, he might do evil.
There is a cause for all mysterious happenings. And
frequently the cause is evil. Something furtively


UNEASY STREET
197
evil lay behind the failure of the money's owner
to come out into the public prints with the story of
his loss. It could easily be argued that, by biding
his time, Baird was doing good.
So untold millions have comforted themselves. “I
mean no harm,” they say, as they take the first step.
But wrong is like gravity. Eternally it pulls, and
the pull is ever ɖownward.
Man does not stand alone. Cast upon a desert
island he exists, if he does, because of the millions of
men who have lived before him, who have transmitted
to him resourcefulness.
And no event stands alone. Other events lead up
to it; it, in turn, leads up to still other things. No
action can be final in itself. It leads to other ac-
tions. But of this Baird was not thinking as he
turned out the light. He had no wish to read the
future. The assurance of youth was his; he could
meet the future when it arrived.


XVIII
JAMES MCPHERSON LADD, senior, had been
born “set” in his ways. Broader than most
“set” men, he did not sneer at and condemn the new
style of business building. But he would not move
the offices that had been his father's; no piled mil-
lions could tempt him to tear down the three-story
Ladd Building and in its place erect an eighteen-
story edifice that the blind would think was another
tribute to money-lust, but the seeing would know was
another expression of the striving spirit of America,
the spirit that ever reaches, and deems no glory set
too high to be seized for her great diadem.
Sky-scrapers were all very well. The old gentle-
man, on hearing well-born foreigners exclaim over
the amazing beauty of Manhattan's sky-line, on be-
ing told that the Woolworth Building was one of
the world's most beautiful structures, had reluc-
tantly come to the sane conclusion that "autres
temps, autres mæurs.”
But, even as he had not yielded to the passion for
scroll-saw-carved woodwork, so he refused to yield
to the modern passion for heaping steel and con-
crete into the air. Men whom he esteemed had suf-
fered no moral or financial deterioration by conduct-
ing their affairs in bright, cheery offices set hun-
198


UNEASY STREET
199
dreds of feet in the air, but if he would concede the
right of other times to other customs, he also wished
the concession to the old dog of going along com-
fortably with his old tricks. He would not learn
new ones.
So, one of that generation which took its wealth
seriously, he liked gloom. The modern generation,
knowing that wealth is not amassed by painful
building upon a firm foundation but depends upon
one's ability to think a bit faster than one's neigh-
bor, makes no ritual of wealth, no fetish of it. Per-
haps it esteems it more highly—but for the things
it brings, not for itself alone. Sanity grows in every
age.
To Baird, brought up in a New England city,
where the law limits the height of the buildings,
where reverence for things as they were is more
prevalent than in New York, the Ladd Building
seemed eminently fitting as the home of the Ladd
interests.
“Gloomy old dump, eh, Rod?” said Jimmy, on
Monday morning. “One of the first things I'm go-
ing to fail in will be my endeavor to persuade the
governor to move."
“Why?” demanded Baird.
Jimmy shrugged.
“The kale, kid. This property is worth four
millions. Its rental represents three per cent. on half
a million. You can't make people inhabit gloomy
old rooms like these if they've the money to get
more modern offices. Spend a few millions more in


200
UNEASY STREET
putting up a real office building here, and the income
rises, old top.”
“And the income tax," smiled Baird.
Jimmy's answering smile was wry.
Baird's thoughts turned inward. Suppose, at the
end of the year, when he made out his income tax,
he wanted to be strictly honest? But that was rot.
He'd have repaid long since the money that he was
using to-day. Nevertheless, it made an interesting
little problem.
He permitted Jimmy to lead him through the
offices. Ladd & Company occupied the entire first
floor of the building. Yet there were not, after all,
many employees. The business which Ladd, senior,
headed required not so very many workers, it ap-
peared. For the old gentleman dealt in money.
It takes a strong man to carry a hod of bricks fifty
feet, bricks worth perhaps, even in these days of
inflated values, a couple of dollars. But the merest
boy can carry fifty miles, if need be, pieces of paper
that weigh a fraction of an ounce but that are
worth, perhaps, a couple of million dollars. Money
is the most tangible thing in the world; it is also
the most intangible.
Ladd & Company were investment bankers, what-
ever that meant. For, apparently, it meant any-
thing and everything.
"It's like this,” said Jimmy, in his interest at ex-
planation permitting a two-cent cigarette to burn a
black-walnut table that had cost two hundred dollars
once, but was worth to-day an easy twenty-five hun-
dred: “My grandfather broke away from the old


UNEASY STREET
201
tradition of Ladd & Company. That tradition was
to send your money a long way off. My ancestors
shot their kale to China, to the East Indies. But
grandpop soaked a bunch of it in this country. We
became less an importing firm and more an investing
firm. Then came along dad. He was the real finan-
cial genius of the lineuntil myself.” He chuckled.
“Well, dad discovered that, while there was money
in investing your own dough, there was a lot more
in investing other people's. So—we're private bank-
ers. No checking-accounts against us, though.
Like family lawyers, almost. Somebody—an estate,
most likely—has an extra million. They know that
we know where to put it. We do. If they want their
money in a fluid form, they get four per cent. If
they want it invested, they get eight and ten and
twelve.”
Baird whistled.
“I didn't know that anything safe paid such a
rate of return."
Jimmy grinned.
“Get you mortgages on the best farm-land in this
country at eight per cent., if you want. Safe and
good. Oh, yes; money will bring a good return now
and any old time. But that's merely one line. We
finance propositions that are conservative-street-
unce propost es
railroads, water-plants—the like of that.”
“Promotion,” Baird nodded sagely.
But Jimmy shook his head.
"Hardly that. Nothing wild. Nothing that isn't
all settled. Why take any risk? Established things
will pay a big-enough return. A new holding com-


202
UNEASY STREET
pany to take over a couple of going concerns
Oh, well, you'll get it all soon enough."
"I hope so," said Baird dubiously.
Jimmy laughed encouragingly.
“No chance of failure for you, Rod! You aren't
the failing kind.”
Baird looked about him. They were in a sort of
board-room, a room where directors would be apt
to meet. In fact, that was exactly what the room
was for. Ladd & Company, Jimmy told him, repre-
sented thousands of stockholders in hundreds of
corporations. Jimmy himself would, in the course
of the next few weeks, be chosen director of scores
of corporations.
“What am I to do first?" asked Baird.
Jimmy shrugged.
“Oh, just kick around for a few weeks. Get the
hang of the way we do things. Then there's a prop-
osition in Toledo, and another in Vincennes, Indiana.
Human element. The deal is all right, if the peo-
ple That's your job, Reddy me buck. Mean-
time, look the place over."
He vanished through the door leading to Ladd,
senior's, private office. Baird walked into the room
that had been assigned to him, on the glass panel
of whose door a painter was already neatly printing
the words:
MR. BAIRD
It was a dream, an amazing, kaleidoscopic dream,
in which scene succeeded scene, character succeeded
character, event chased event. Donchester, Robbins


UNEASY STREET
203
& Robbins, the training-camp, the Atlantic, France,
the front, the Atlantic, demobilization, the Tramby,
the Chummy Club, Eileen Elsing, the Central, the
canvas trunk, Derriby's, Blackmar, Fannie Holben,
Frankie Landers, Ladd, senior, Ladd & Company,
his private office, “Mr. Baird” on the glass-
He shook himself slightly. Here he was, at a
salary of twenty-four thousand a year, high in the
favor of both partners in the concern, an amazing
financial career stretching out before him, a social
career, he supposed, too, and a girl — And on
how sharp a pinnacle he perched! It might trans-
fix him at any moment, leaving him wounded, gasp-
ing, a pitiable object for the world to jibe at, an
example that one must not leave one's own class save
by the routine way of inheriting or earning one's
money– Not by a blamed sight!
Jimmy Ladd was so excited as he burst into the
room that he did not notice the scowl on his friend's
face.
“Well, Rod, the luck sometimes takes a long time
to turn, but—just got an advance tip on Bellew
Elsing's will."
“So soon ?” asked Baird.
“Well, he's an important—was an important old
guy. Six millions is regular money, even in this
man's town. Tommy Burnham-owns the Despatch,
you know~got the inside dope from Sminer & Mer-
kle, the Elsing lawyers. Eileen gets a sixth.”
Baird's jaw dropped.
“A million?”
“Maybe more. Certainly not much less."


204
UNEASY STREET
Baird digested this information. A certain alarm
last night and the newness of his position to-day
had made him take scant interest in the health of
Eileen's uncle, though he had been perfunctorily
regretful when she had received the telephonic in-
formation that the old man had had a stroke.
Like all the rest of the world, he had seen the
head-lines in this morning's papers announcing the
death of Bellew Elsing. Like a few of those who
saw the head-lines, he had read the newspaper ac-
count of the dead man's upright life, his success as
a merchant, his charities, his civic spirit, and all the
rest of it. But it had not entered even into a corner
of his brain that Eileen Elsing would share in the
dead man's estate.
Hadn't Jimmy Ladd stated that Eileen had
broken with her relatives, that the daughters, her
cousins, were jealous? And now she had inherited
an approximate million. He felt conscious of irrita-
tion. By what right did this dead man reach out
his stilled hand and cast a shadow over the life of
him, Rodney Baird? For, if the girl had a million-
Slowly the shadow departed. With a million, Eileen
Elsing could pick and choose. Blackmar's wealth
suddenly dwindled.
“It's money,” Baird said slowly.
“Yea, bo!” agreed Jimmy. “I look for friend
Blackmar to take his foot in his hand and look for
the door."
“You don't like him?” said Baird.
“I won't like you such an awful lot when you
marry Eileen,” smiled Jimmy.


UNEASY STREET 205
“But Blackmar hasn't married her.”
“Well, his chances looked good a while ago. But
now-nix.” He walked up and down the office.
“Bless her heart! She deserves it. A game kid, if
there ever was one, and—I wonder how cousins Jen-
nie and Mabel are taking the glad news. They've
done their darndest to down Eileen, and now "
“Maybe they'll contest,” said Baird.
Jimmy's eyebrows raised.
"You say that as though you hoped that they
would.”
Baird fushed.
“Well- "
“You're all wrong. Maybe you haven't a mil-
lion, but-Eileen won't worry. As long as one of
the contracting parties has it— Oh, well, I'm a
fine little match-maker, eh? But contest? No
chance.” He sat down and smoked a cigarette.
“Wish to heaven I didn't know them!”
“Why?” Baird was frankly surprised.
"Funeral. I think Bellew Elsing was a trump.
He's died, and he left Eileen a million, both of which
acts tend to commend themselves to me, but I
didn't like him. And now I'll have to attend the last
rites. What savages we are, Rod! Promise me
when I die I want the gang to lift a few—if prohibi-
tion isn't the law-say, 'He was a good guy when he
had it,' and forget me. Don't you ever let them
church me at the finish, and sing songs over me
when I can't fight back, and harrow the feelings of
my friends and family, will you, boy?”
Baird laughed.


206 UNEASY STREET
“I promise.”
Jimmy threw his cigarette out the window.
“Come on out to luncheon, Rod. I want a drink
—forgot I was on the wagon. Oh, well, some food,
to take the foretaste of the funeral out of my
mouth.”
It was a most interesting luncheon. Half a dozen
men stopped at the table to shake hands with
Jimmy, to be introduced to Baird. Their names
were household words in America. Some of them
had been born to success; some had achieved it, and
others had had it, like Jimmy, thrust upon them.
Another score called greetings, waved friendly
hands, went through the pantomime, across the room,
of drinking young Ladd's health.
It was a new part of New York, something that
Baird had not known before. This down-town sec-
tion was where the money that was spent up-town
was made. Baird felt his shoulders squaring. These
keen-eyed, clean-featured young fellows, young mid-
dle-aged men, young oldsters were to furnish him
the competition that he had always secretly dreaded.
To-day, he was not afraid of them. In the past,
when men like these had come into the offices of
Robbins & Robbins, he had been deferential of man-
ner and timid of soul. But to-day it was different.
He was no longer alien to them-a jealous book-
keeper, hopeless of ever lining up alongside them
he was of them; they treated him with respect, as
the confidential associate of James McPherson
Ladd, junior. Soon, he prayed, they would treat


UNEASY STREET 207
him with consideration because of himself alone, not
because of any association.
They were finishing their meal and were squab-
bling amiably for the check when a hard-featured
youth stopped by the table.
“Hello, Ladd !” he said effusively.
He was well groomed, had the air of gentility,
yet there was something furtive about him. One
would have been hard put to define it, to place this
furtiveness, but it was there.
“Hello!” said Jimmy coldly.
But the other lingered.
“Got a good thing in oil, Jimmy."
“Not to-day, Cather,” said Ladd.
The name made Baird prick up his ears. He eyed
the loiterer. Back, over a decade, his memory
skipped. He remembered Bob Cather. Cather
hadn't consorted with the Bairds of Linestream, but
Baird remembered him—and his sister Eleanor.
He'd been talking about them to Eileen the other
day. Vaguely, through a haze, he remembered the
scandal about Cather,
“Don't I know you?” asked Cather. He thrust
forward his hand.
Baird took it reluctantly.
“My name is Baird—Rodney Baird.”
“Sure-I remember,” said Cather. “Linestream
high school.”
“You knew each other?" demanded Ladd.
"Surest thing in the world! Ưsed to play around
together-marbles, tops, all that sort of thing.


208 UNEASY STREET
Have a little drink, Baird?” Cather was extremely
effusive.
“On the wagon, both of us,” said Ladd. “Come
along, Rod."
Outside, on Broadway, he eyed Baird curiously.
“Know that chap well?”
“Not particularly,” replied Baird cautiously.
“Good thing. Crooked as a ram’s horn. Got into
a scrape several years ago. Matter of using some
estate money. Father almost went broke squaring
him. From bad to worse. Cheap tipster. Fine
family, though. Used to play with him, eh?”
"Oh, occasionally,” said Baird idly.
Somehow, although Cather was declassé, it ap-
peared that a boyhood association conferred some-
thing on Baird. It was a peculiar world.


XIX
STRAIN had been Baird's portion for several
days, but excitement had lent him strength to
endure it. But now, for Monday, Tuesday, and
Wednesday, there was no excitement. Blackmar
and Landers with their covert threats, Fannie Hol-
ben with her quite open ones were strangely silent
and remote. And he could not see Eileen Elsing.
At least, he supposed that he could not. Of course,
he wrote her a proper note of condolence, and,
equally of course, received no reply. And Jimmy
did not appear at the office on the two days suc-
ceeding a summons, as an old family friend, to at-
tend to the management of Bellew Elsing's funeral.
Ladd, senior, was courteous in the extreme, but,
apparently, preferred that his son should attend to
Baird's instruction in his duties. So Baird was put
to the extremity of finding work for himself. He
was not able to do this exactly, but he did, all files
and records being open to him, gather, by Wednes-
day afternoon, a fairly comprehensive digest of the
far-flung ramifications of the Land & Company in-
terests.
In his rooms, he had found no further signs of
furtive interest. If Grannan had been subsidized
by Blackmar, the man gave no 'external sign. Cour-
209


210
UNEASY STREET
teous, self-effacing, deft, and suave, he was the per-
fect servant. That, and nothing more.
It was a dull time for Baird. The threat of ex-
posure, which now he began to realize would always
be with him, bore on him. He began to wish that
Blackmar or Landers or the Holben girl would do
something. A combat postponed looms more threat-
eningly than one immediately at hand.
On Wednesday afternoon, Jimmy Ladd tele-
phoned.
“The agony is all over, Rod,” he said. “Not
coming down to the office to-day, though. Dine
with me?”
“Sure thing!"
“All right. I'll call for you at your diggings
about seven, eh?”
“Suits me.”
“Will was read to-day. Burnham's tip was 0. K.
Eileen will have about twelve hundred thousand.”
“I'm glad for her sake," said Baird perfunctorily.
“Better be glad for your own, boy. Seven it is,
then.” He hung up.
Baird's eyes rested unseeingly upon the mass of
papers before him-papers that had to do with
the proposal of certain Vincennes persons with re-
gard to an interurban electric freight-and-passenger
railroad.
It was definitely established, then, that Eileen was
wealthy. It sort of- Well, if a poor girl has set
her mind on a rich marriage, will a fortune in her
own right change her ideas? That was the question.


UNEASY STREET 211
And he couldn't solve it, of course. He wondered
when he might decently telephone her. No reason
why he should delay very long. It wasn't as though
Eileen had been Bellew Elsing's daughter. Of
course, having been treated so generously by him, she
might feel— He'd 'phone her as soon as he reached
his rooms.
But he did not. Grannan, a little more obse-
quious than usual, met him at his door. There was
in the man's manner, despite his obsequiousness, a
certain defiance that Baird sensed.
“Excuse me, sir, Mr. Baird, sir, but, I took a
great liberty, sir."
“Yes?" Baird had no reason for his belief that
Grannan had been instrumental in permitting some
one to search his rooms last Sunday. But a bank-
teller would have difficulty in explaining why a cer-
tain signature aroused his suspicion. There are
senses beyond the five that we know.
“Yes, sir.” Grannan smoothed his coat lapel.
“The young lady was so insistent, sir.”
Baird stared at the man. He knew at once what
Grannan meant, yet he asked,
“You mean that she's waiting inside for me?"
“Yes, sir; I hope it's all right, sir.”
Baird threw open the door to his living-room
without answering. Fannie Holben, seated in a
chair, looking down upon the teeming avenue,
whirled around. Baird carefully shut the door. He
locked it.
“What is the big idea?” she demanded. “Never


UNEASY STREET
213
carelessly, were not only new but expensive. Baird
stood silent, staring down upon her.
“Just as you say,” she retorted; “I want twenty-
five thousand dollars, and I want it to-day.”
"A laudable ambition. To want money is per-
fectly proper. May I ask why you come to me,
though?”
“You may,” she told him, her teeth clicking over
the words. “You've asked before, but this time I'll
tell you. On New Year's eve, a trunk was put in
your room. It contained one hundred and five thou-
sand dollars. You stole it !”
Brief as the speech was, it left her breathless.
Her full bosom rose and dropped heavily.
Well, they were in the open at last! The direct
charge had been made. “One hundred and five thou-
sand,” she said. He caught himself as he was about
to debate the amount. It might be a clumsy trick
to win admission from him. And, clumsy as it was,
it had almost succeeded.
“I stole it?” He was elated with himself, because
his voice was steady, and because he knew that the
smile upon his lips would seem perfectly natural to
her. In fact, he felt like smiling. Fight held no
fears for him; suspense did.
“Oh, took it, if you prefer the word, Mr. Baird.
And I want mine."
“One hundred and five thousand, you said?”
“A few hundred either way. It doesn't matter.
You give me mine, and I'll not quarrel over hun-
dreds."
“And you don't mind telling me where you ac-


214
UNEASY STREET
quired this interesting misinformation?” he asked
gently.
"I picked it up. What difference does it make
where I got it, so long as it's information, not mis-
information?”
“If it only were," smiled Baird. “But, Miss Hol-
ben, if you've banked too heavily on your 'informa-
tion,' I'm sorry for your disappointment.”
“Eh? Don't weep for me yet,” she advised him
tartly. "Suppose I check up on you, Mr. Baird.”
“Delighted. May I smoke?”
She nodded. Abruptly she began her "checking
bello, 'm Don't
up.”
“You were in the Tramby New Year's eve, Mr.
Baird. Later, you were at the Central. You bor-
rowed a hundred from Mr. Ladd there. I saw you.
You paid him back next day.”
“Sure of that?” he asked lightly.
“Jimmy Ladd is an open-throat when a woman's
in the game,” she said. “Saturday night, dancing
with him, I got that out of him."
“And the point it makes ?” he asked.
“I'll come to that. Give me time. New Year's
day, you went to Donchester. Next day, you sold
some property you had there. Get less than two
thousand for it, I happen to know.”
“Sure of that?” he inquired.
“Bob Cather went to Donchester for me yesterday
to make sure. He couldn't get the exact amount,
but- "
“Cather?"
She nodded.


216
UNEASY STREET
“Oh, I won't bore you much longer!" she cried.
“I've got your number all right. You're here, at
Derriby's. You're spending money like a drunken
sailor, and—I'm going to Frankie Landers with
what I know."
“With the tale that I am stopping here?” Baird
laughed. “Did you know that I'm employed by
Ladd & Company? That with something under two
thousand a man could live a while here at Der-
riby's?”
“Yes; but he couldn't buy thirty-five-hundred-
dollar pins out of that two thousand !” she cried.
“Oh, I'm not easily fooled, Mr. Baird. I know what
I know. That trunk was put in your room. Frankie
Landers is willing to believe that some one else
sneaked it out of that room, but-not with you
buying diamond pins. I won't believe it's anyone
else.”
“Quite certain that I'm doing that sort of thing?"
“Jimmy Ladd mentioned it when I admired Miss
Elsing's pin,” she retorted.
Baird's estimate of Jimmy Ladd was quite un-
favorable at the moment. Still, why shouldn't Ladd
have mentioned it? Ladd didn't know the thinness,
the rottenness of the ice on which Baird skated.
“All the evidence in, Miss Holben?” he asked.
“Isn't it enough?” she demanded. “You haven't
any money of your own. You begin to splurge right
after a fortune is left in your room. Begin paying
debts, buying diamonds — "
Baird laughed.


UNEASY STREET
217
"I suppose you could tell me how that money hap-
pened to be left there."
"I could, but I won't,” she snapped. “All I'm in-
terested in is ‘mine.' Do I get it?”
He shook his head.
“Sorry. I have such silly prejudices, you know.
Blackmail is one of them."
“Theft isn't, though, eh?” she countered.
“Don't know, I'm sure. Never had the oppor-
tunity."
She rose abruptly.
"All right; we won't argue it. I'm going to
Frankie Landers-now!"
Blazing-eyed, she started past him. A knock
sounded on the door.
“Hello, Rod? In?”
It was Jimmy Ladd's voice. The girl, appar-
ently, was more alarmed than was Baird. She
pointed silently toward his bedroom door. Her
lips moved; whisperingly she said:
“Let me in there. Till he goes.”
Baird's brows drew together. Why she should
mind being found in his rooms by Jimmy Ladd he
couldn't understand. Maidenly modesty was a bit
too far-fetched. Nevertheless, her whim coincided
with his own desire. He nodded assent. She tip-
toed to the bedroom door.
“Right with you, Jimmy!” he called.
He seized his hat and coat and went into the hall.
Ladd was leaning against the banister, cheerfully
smoking.
toed to own desire. He nodi her whim coincided


218
UNEASY STREET
“Ready?” he asked. “Any special place you want
to dine?”
“Ready and not particular,” said Baird.
“Fine!” said Jimmy. “Orlanno's, then.”


220
UNEASY STREET
of the family in the gloomy dining-room of the
Elsing mansion.
And Bellew Elsing had left her one-sixth of his
estate! One-half had gone to his widow, and the
other half had been equally divided between his two
daughters and his niece. It was incredible, but—a
fact! For the judge was rereading the clause
again.
She lifted her eyes and looked about her. To her
great amazement, Mabel and Jennie were smiling at
her.
Half an hour later, walking down Fifth Avenue
the Bellew home, on East Seventieth Street, was
not too far from her apartment, and she had re-
fust d a car-she marveled on the strange thing
called human nature.
“I'm delighted,” Mabel Elsing had said, and her
sister Jennie had echoed her.
"Of course, if papa hadn't done it- We're
hogs, all of us, Eileen. Thank heaven, though,
neither Jennie nor I are so porcine that we regret
father's doing the right thing. We'd never have
done it ourselves, but—you won't have to marry
Sam Blackmar, Eileen, and we're glad!”
One letter among the little pile of mail that had
accumulated at her home during the past three days
attracted Eileen. She did not recognize the writ-
ing, but she knew whose it was at once. She put it
aside and opened the others.
Aside from three or four notes of invitation and a
bill, they were formal messages of condolence-save


UNEASY STREET 221
one. That was from Blackmar. She read it; her
eyes narrowed. It, too, expressed sorrow for the
loss of her uncle. But it spoke of seeing her soon,
and its expression was intimate. It was as though
her loss was also his. Ten days ago, she would not
have resented this, but just now she did. By what
right did he assume so much? Yet he had assumed
much in the past and she had not rebuked him. An
assumption unopposed becomes a right.
She picked up Baird's note, and suddenly became
conscious of the fact that her lips held a smile.
She ironed them out, blushing. Captain Baird might
be swift, but she preferred to go slow. But-did
she? She felt warm all over. The blush that, un-
bidden, had begun at her cheeks stole down her
throat and bosom.
Marriage, up till now, had seemed to her nothing
much more than the changing of her name and the
opening of a bank-account. Romance had never
stirred her. Marriage had seemed the surrendering
of a restricted sort of liberty and the acquisition of
a more complete freedom. For, certainly, married
women were much freer than the single women of
her acquaintance.
But marriage for the mere sake of marriage
Until within the past few days, such a marriage
had not occurred to her. Marriage was a means to
an end. Sometimes the end—as in her own case she
guiltily admitted—was monetary; sometimes it had
to do with position; she even knew girls who had
married to get away from their homes.
But now, with a fortune awaiting her, she read


222 UNEASY STREET
Baird's letter. It had in it nothing of the possessive
quality that had irritated her when she read Black-
mar's note. It was extremely formal, quite correct.
Yet she caught herself lifting the paper to her
lips. Her blush grew deeper. She tossed the letter
from her. She was no schoolgirl surreptitiously
devouring a note from the sophomore in the college
near by. She was a woman, and womanhood meant
common-sense.
Who was this man Baird? After all, she must
not forget that Blackmar had intimated strongly
that there was something shady about this new pal
of Jimmy Ladd's, this new addition to the firm of
Ladd & Company.
She was weary, dog-tired, when she went into the
dining-room, called thither by Mrs. Kelton.
The little table was heavy with flowers. She sat
down opposite her chaperon and summoned a smile
to a face grown suddenly wan. It was pleasant to
be home again. It was pleasant to have opposite
one a person to whom one's word was law, in whose
eyes one could be nothing save perfection. She
wondered if a husband's eyes would hold as satisfy-
ing an expression as that which brightened the
glance of Mrs. Kelton.
The dinner was delicious. Eileen made a tremen-
dous effort to eat. But the effort was apparent.
Mrs. Kelton, however, was one of those rare indi-
viduals who, when they are trying to please some
one else, are not trying to please themselves.
It mattered not that she and Myra, the colored
maid of all work, had spent most of the day in pre-


UNEASY STREET
223
paring this dinner. Mrs. Kelton was not the sort
who will kill with kindness, and do so with pride
ful rectitude. She rose with the salad and came
round to Eileen.
"You darling little girl!" she crooned. "I should
have known that you are all worn out, and— Don't
cry, dearest !”
"I—1—m-must,” sobbed Eileen. “Uncle Bellew
left m-me a m-million dollars, and I th-think C-Cap-
tain B-Baird is in l-love with me, and— ”
She stopped suddenly. But Mrs. Kelton was a
wise old lady who had been in love herself, who had
had doubts, self-distrust, dismay, and glowing de-
light all in the same moment. Gently she led Eileen
to her bedroom. Herself she prepared the warm
bath, shook into it the requisite amounts of salts,
and turned down the covers of the bed.
She sat by Eileen's bedside, asking no confidences,
saying nothing, but smoothing the young girl's fore-
head with a soft hand. Slowly Eileen floated away
into half-slumber. Vaguely she heard the bell ring,
noticed that Mrs. Kelton's stroking fingers ceased
their movement across her forehead. But, if Fan-
nie Holben's voice had been less penetratingly sharp,
or had it been raised a moment later, Eileen would
not have heard it.
As it was, she raised herself on one elbow and
turned her head toward the opened bedroom door.
“I tell you, I've got to see Miss Elsing, and I'm
going to!” she heard a voice say. She recognized
it at once as belonging to the girl whom she had
met last Saturday night at the Maison d'Or, the


224
UNEASY STREET
girl who danced so much with Jimmy, and against
whom she had warned Baird. Exhaustion left her
at once. Her feet swung to the floor and found a
pair of slippers. She drew a dressing-gown about
her.
“I'll see Miss Holben," she called.
“Alone,” said Fannie, as Eileen entered the liv-
ing-room.
With a shrug, Eileen glanced at Mrs. Kelton.
That lady left the room.


226 UNEASY STREET
more. “Maybe you think we've nothing in com-
mon,” she almost shouted.
“I am sure of it,” said Eileen.
“All right; listen to me,” said Fannie: “Suppose
I tell you I can put Rodney Baird in jail?”
“Are you telling me that?” asked Eileen.
“You heard me.”
Eileen's color heightened the least bit.
“Is that all you wished to say?”
“It's enough, ain't it?” snapped Fannie.
“Too much. I couldn't imagine that you could
possibly have anything to tell me that mattered;
I can't imagine it now. Is that all, you are quite
sure?”
This was not what Fannie had come for. She
was perfectly willing to anger Eileen, but-she
wanted money. Baird had refused it. But Eileen
was in love with Baird—so Ladd had intimated.
Jimmy Ladd had said that she'd been practically
engaged to Blackmar until Baird had come along a
few days ago.
“Oh, I don't suppose that you're interested in
how I can do it,” said Fannie.
“Not in the least,” said Eileen.
Fannie was dazed. She had looked for some wild
outburst of indignant denial that Baird could do
anything wrong. If this girl were in love with
Baird, that would be her normal attitude, Fannie
thought. But here was total disinterestedness. For
Fannie was used to people whose emotions were un-
veiled. Had she been accustomed to Eileen's sort





UNEASY STREET
227
of people, she would have known that the very calm
of Eileen meant terrific tension.
She stirred uneasily. Her hope had been that
Eileen would immediately telephone Baird, asking
him to deny this base accusation. Then Baird would
know that Fannie meant business, and an arrange-
ment would be very simple.
But here was, as Fannie saw Eileen, no love-lorn
young woman, overcome at the threat of jail for
her lover. Here was a young woman who seemed
annoyed, bored, at an intrusion. And that was
all.
Fannie rose to her feet. She flounced indignantly
across the room. Without a word, she walked out.
The Plaza, half a block away, invited her. She
entered and called up Baird. He was in, and an-
swered at once.
“This is Fannie Holben. I've been to see Miss
Elsing. I've told her about you, Mr. Baird. But
I haven't told her much. I can square it. Will
you come across now?”
Baird's laugh was pleasant.
“Sorry, Miss Holben. I don't understand you
yet. Miss Elsing just telephoned of your call. She
is rather annoyed, though. I'm afraid that I'll
begin to be annoyed soon. You'd better stop it.
And your friend Mr. Landers also called up. Seems
that he knew you were in my rooms."
“Did Mr. Ladd tell him? Did he know I was
there?” she asked.
"That why you were frightened at Jimmy's call-
ing? No, indeed. It seems that Mr. Landers takes


UNEASY STREET
229
believe that Fannie's visit and threats were due to
jealousy at Baird's attentions to Eileen. If this
were the end of Fannie's efforts to gain money from
him, he could take a chance, assure Eileen that the
girl had misinterpreted his attitude, was jealous.
That is, if he wanted to lie. And he didn't want
to lie-not to Eileen. But if he didn't tell her
some such story, what would he tell her?
Why hadn't he paid Fannie what she demanded?
But he shook his head. No, sir! He'd taken all of
that money that he intended to take. He was go-
ing to begin replacing it from his salary now, not
make further inroads into it. He'd not be black-
mailed. He'd assured himself of this before, and
he assured himself of it now. He meant it. At
least, he thought he meant it.


XXII
DAIRD had been quiet during their dinner at
D Orlanno's. Too tactful to make inquiries,
Jimmy accepted Baird's statement that he had a
headache, and had offered no objection when Baird
had begged off from attending a theater,
But he could not emulate Baird's example and go
home. He'd been through three days of arranging
for a funeral and carrying through the arrange-
ments. It was, he told himself, his night to howl.
The performance for which he had procured two
seats bored him. The prima donna couldn't sing; he
was sick to death of ballroom dancers, and the
chorus-girls were not any too easy on the eye.
“And I wish to goodness that the comedians would
lay off the prohibition jokes,” he muttered, as, at
the end of the first act, he fought his way out into
the lobby and street.
He crossed Forty-second Street and walked up
Fifth Avenue. Merely for the satisfaction of look-
ing at people he entered the Plaza. He came
through the revolving door just as Fannie Holben
was wearily arising from the seat upon which she
had slumped after telephoning Baird. Jimmy was
before her, beaming, before she was standing up-
right.
230


UNEASY STREET
231
« «God's in his heaven, all's well with the world,”
he announced.
He drew her left hand inside his right arm; he
patted her fingers into place.
“This is no place for a gent and lady on pleasure
bent,” he declared. “Not now. An hour from now,
when the grill is packed, yes. But, meantime whither
do we wend our blithesome way, Miss Holben?”
“You may take me home," she told him.
“ 'Home? Of course. Later. Meanwhile "
He released her hand long enough to impel her
gently through the revolving door. He held up his
hand. The taxi-starter immediately blew his whis-
tle; a car drew up before them at once, and Fannie
found herself inside it before she could protest.
Jimmy spoke the name of a well-known restaurant
to the chauffeur.
“Looka here, Mr. Ladd,” said Fannie, as they
bumped over the uneven pavement of Fifty-ninth
Street: “I didn't say that I'd go anywhere with
you."
“I'd hardly expect you to—so soon,” grinned
Jimmy. “After you know me better and have
learned to love me Who kept you waiting so
long in the Plaza ?”
"Huh? Any time I wait round for anyone I
stepped in to telephone. Then I was going
home "
“Glad you put it in the imperfect tense,” he in-
terrupted. “We will not make it perfect. I'm a
lonesome man. Will you dance the evening hours
away with me, for sweet charity's sake?”


232
UNEASY STREET
She eyed Ladd speculatively. He had seemed,
the other night, to be genuinely attracted to her.
He was a millionaire. He was young. He was
good-looking, too. Jolly, also. Open-handed. Her
smile was as warmly encouraging as she could man-
age as she said:
“I'll tell the world I'll dance with you, Mr. Ladd.
It'll cheer me up, too. I'm awful blue.”
“So? We will kill lonesomeness and the blues
with one wallop,” grinned Jimmy. “It's a wonder-
ful thing, isn't it?”
“What?" she demanded.
“Fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it.
Long before either of us were born, it was written
down that on this Wednesday night you'd be blue
and I'd be lonesome, that we'd meet, dance to-
gether-
“You're a great josher, ain't you?” she laughed.
A lurch of the taxi threw her close to him! she did
not withdraw.
The restaurant had its usual crowd, but there was
room on the dance-floor. They entered second-floor
room in the middle of an encore. They finished the
one-step before permitting the head waiter to guide
them to a table.
"Some champagne-no; what are you drinking?”
the girl asked.
Jimmy shrugged.
“Ginger ale,” he confessed.
She nodded approvingly.
“I remember that you're off the stuff. Ginger ale
for me, too.”


UNEASY STREET 233
The waiter departed. He didn't mind their or-
der. There was something about Jimmy Ladd that
inspired waiters with confidence; their remuneration,
they knew, would depend upon the quality of their
service more than upon the amount of the check.
The waiter served the ginger ale with as much flour-
ish as he ordinarily used in uncorking champagne.
The couple came back hot and thirsty from the
next dance. Jimmy gulped his drink.
“I'm here to state that this is far better than
being at home,” he declared.
“It's a lot better," admitted Fannie.
Jimmy nodded approvingly.
“I told you that it wouldn't take me long. Have
you begun to love me already?”
The girl pursed her lips.
“I'm not sure that it would be very hard," she
told him.
“Eh?” Conceit was not in the heart of Jimmy
Ladd. He raised a warning finger. “Don't you
lure me, woman; don't you lure me. I'll tell Frankie
Landers on you."
She shrugged.
“Suit yourself. But what Frankie doesn't know
won't bother him.”
Jimmy lighted a cigarette. He eyed her care-
fully. In her eyes, that met his squarely, he thought
he read a hint of desperation. His own eyes grew
suddenly kindly.
“You really have been blue, haven't you?
What's wrong? Could I help?”
“Men always want to help, don't they?" she


234
UNEASY STREET
sneered. “Their idea of helping usually means-
She paused abruptly.
“Yes? What does it mean?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“You know. I don't need to spell it out for you.
Let's dance.”
But he shook his head,
“Wait a bit! What's wrong?"
She sank back in the chair from which she had
risen.
“"Wrong?! ” she echoed. “Suppose that you had
ambition, and some talent, too, and only needed
money to get along? How would you feel?”
"Like getting hold of some money,” he replied.
“That's what I feel like. And suppose the only
way you could get that money was by marrying a
man you didn't want to marry, and if you did marry
him, you'd have to give up your ambition, anyway
-well, what then?”
“Search me,” said Jimmy. “That how it is with
you?”
“You said it.”
“Hm.” He cast a quick glance at her. "Lan-
ders?”
She nodded.
“Make a good husband," he said.
"I don't want one,” she retorted.
“Better terms than lots of men would offer," he
stated.
She reddened.
“I suppose you think that I couldn't get plenty
of men to marry me if I'd let 'em!"


UNEASY STREET 235
“I didn't say that. I'm thinking in terms of
Broadway. Which is most important, money or
ambition? I mean, are you ambitious for money
only? Landers has plenty of that.”
“Don't I know it well enough? I'm thinking of
-if I don't pay Frankie Landers back twenty-five
hundred dollars in about three weeks, I've got to
marry him."
There! She had blurted out what had been in
the back of her mind since the moment in the taxi
when she had consented to go with him. She
dropped her hands from her chin and stared, some-
thing of defiance in her glance now, at her com-
panion.
Ladd stared, too.
“You can't pay the money, and you don't want
the alternative, eh?” he said.
"I'll say so," she said. Her attempt at lightness
of tone was almost pathetic. At least, it was so
to Jimmy Ladd. After all, she was an amusing sort,
and she was good-looking.
“Twenty-five hundred isn't such an awful lot,” he
said.
"It is when you haven't got it,” she retorted.
“I suppose so. And-er-I take it that you're
not telling me this for the fun of talking."
"I guess you can see through an open window,"
she answered.
“But Lander had security for his loan,” he
hinted.
“Well?” She tried to keep her voice steady and


236
UNEASY STREET
succeeded. But the hands that rested on the table
trembled.
“What security would I get for my loan?” he
asked.
“You wouldn't want the same as Landers," she
evaded.
Jimmy laughed.
“Considering that I never intend to be married
-no."
She echoed his laugh, a harsher echo.
“That's what I said a while ago-men's ideas
of helping are- Oh, well, you wouldn't lend me
the money, then?”
“Have I refused ?” he asked.
“You haven't said you would."
“But I might,” he grinned.
Her plump face had been red, but now it was
white.
“Honest-Frankie is a good guy; but-marriage
- I don't want it. And if I don't settle with him,
he'll keep me off the stage. Oh, he can, all right.
He's got a pull like a truck on low. And I could
make good—but what's the use? It takes forever
unless you've got some money– Will you give me
the twenty-five hundred?"
“ “Give?' I thought you wanted a loan.”
But she had made a decision, and not so sud-
denly as it might have seemed to an auditor.
She had tried definitely to blackmail Baird. She
had failed. She might manage to wreak some sort
of vengeance on Baird, but that she might get money


XXIII
IT was nearly noon on Thursday morning when
| Eileen awoke. She'd had a miserable night of
it. Two and two make four. Blackmar had inti-
mated things against Baird, and Fannie Holben had
stated that she could put the young man in jail.
Of course, Blackmar's insinuations might readily be
accounted for by jealousy of Baird. Fannie Hol-
ben's threat might be laid to jealousy of Eileen. At
all events, these things were unpleasant.
More than once she had sat up in bed, with the
intention of telephoning Baird again. Once she had
even taken the receiver from the telephone hook.
But only to hang it up. She'd 'phoned him once
and told him that Fannie Holben had called upon
her and made threats against him. And he had
merely been apologetic because she had been an-
noyed, had assured her that it wouldn't happen
again.
But she wouldn't-couldn't-'phone him again.
And in her heart she knew why. She wanted him
to have an explanation ready; she wanted to give
him time. Why?
She sneered at herself. Was she a love-sick miss
whose lover must be perfect, must seem perfect? Or
was she a grown woman, mistress of herself, inde-
239


240
UNEASY STREET
pendent, who, finding imperfection in a lover, could
coolly rid herself of him and await a perfect speci-
men?
Bigger than her own inheritance, bigger than
anything that had yet entered her life loomed the
figure of Rodney Baird. She rang for her maid.
As she was about to enter her tub, the telephone-
bell jingled.
“Eileen? ... This is Eleanor Cather. ... When?
... This morning. . . . Everyone's fine. . . . May
I see you? ... Right away? I'm coming."
Eileen's frown, that had been on her forehead
even before she awakened, vanished. Eleanor Ca-
ther was a lot of fun; she'd tell her all the latest
racy Donchester gossip, and–Eleanor Cather knew
Rodney Baird!
She was extremely cordial when Miss Cather,
twenty minutes later, entered her bedroom. Eileen
was sitting up in bed, most becomingly arrayed in
a pink, lacy bedroom jacket. Her auburn hair
hung over either shoulder in thick braids.
Eleanor Cather, after kissing her, drew back and
surveyed her carefully. She shook her head won-
deringly.
"I came expecting to find you a regular cripple,
old dear,” she said. “Instead–Eileen, where do
you buy your rouge?”
“Cat!” said Eileen. “Old Doctor Nature fur-
nishes it.”
“I wish he'd take me for a patient,” sighed
Eleanor.


UNEASY STREET
241
"Fishing," commented Eileen. She dug her spoon
into her grapefruit. “Have some coffee?”
“Wish I could," said Miss Cather enviously.
“Makes me yellow. But you can do anything-
even act the Christian martyr and take care of a
whole bereaved family. Eileen, you're a wonder!
I met Dan Seeley last night just before I went
aboard the train. He was just back from the
funeral. Told me what a perfect peach you'd been;
also told me that Bellew Elsing had done the decent
thing. Congratulations, old dear. Want to hire
a companion?”
“Looking for a job?” asked Eileen.
“Seriously,” Eleanor said, in a moment, “if Bob
keeps on, I don't know what will become of me."
Eileen's mouth pursed in sympathy.
“What's he been up to now?” she asked. “I
thought he'd rather been behaving himself.”
“So did I-in his own peculiarly disreputable
fashion,” snapped Eleanor. “I don't know where
he gets his wildness.”
“Oh, he'll steady down after a while,” said Eileen
soothingly.
Eleanor sniffed.
“I'd like to think so. So would the rest of the
family. But—he's my own brother, Eileen. I can
stand a Cather drinking, but when it comes to act-
ing as private detective for a hotel waitress "
“What's that?” exclaimed Eileen.
“Exactly what I said. Some girl over here
name of Bolton or Holstein—that would be more
like it; she's cattle!"


242 UNEASY STREET
“Holben?” interposed Eileen.
Her visitor straightened in her chair.
“That's it! You know her?"
“Perhaps. Go ahead.”
“There isn't much to go ahead about. Bob was
in Donchester the first of the week. I didn't know
it. His lordship never deigns to keep the family
informed of his doings unless he's in need of money.
But he had luncheon one day with Willie Curtiss.
They drank too much, and Bob talked too much.
Willie told his sister and she told me, of course.
Cat! She's by way of being a fifty-eighth cousin
of mine, you know, and how she loves to compare
Bob with her own darling little fair-haired brother.
Well, anyway, Bob told Willie that a girl who used
to be a waitress in Simpson's—it's a restaurant,
lunch-room, where all the men go-pretty girls, you
know. One of them married a nephew of the gov-
ernor the other day; I'm thinking some of us might
well take jobs there. Well, anyway, she's a sort of
half-baked actress now, I gather. And she has her
battery trained on one Rodney Baird. What! Do
you know him, too?”
Eileen forced a look of innocence. She hated her-
self for her start at Baird's name.
“I've met him," she said.
Miss Cather whistled.
“I take it he's rising in the world. I remembered
the name the moment Jeanne Curtiss mentioned it.
Used to go to high-school. Gawky boy; rather
good-looking, though. But nobody."


UNEASY STREET
243
“Where does Baird fit into this picture-puzzle?”
asked Eileen.
She tried to make her voice unconcerned and
sipped at her coffee.
"I guess he's been cutting rather a dash over
here," answered Eleanor. “Anyway, I take it that
he's making violent love to the Holben girl, and
she commissioned my brother Bob to visit Donches-
ter and look him up." Her eyes filled with con-
tempt. "Imagine Bob doing a thing like that! It's
low; it's—it's filthy!”
"Well," Eileen admitted, “it's not the sort of
thing one wants in one's biography in ‘Who's
Who.?"
"Hardly," agreed Eleanor. “So I've come over
to Bob with the ultimatum from the family. If he
must be a rotter, he must be one a long way off.
He's been receiving an allowance, you know—and
we can't afford it any too well. And we're going
to stop it unless he takes a train for somewhere
west of the Mississippi and stays there."
“What did he find out about Baird? Did Jeanne
tell you?" inquired Eileen. She tried to make her
tone casual.
“Oh, she told me all right. Not that it mattered.
What did Bob find out? Oh, the man's a book-
keeper or something like that on a spree, I gather.
Hasn't a penny to bless himself with. Maybe a few
thousand-oh, practically nothing. I suppose this
Holben—that her name?—will throw him over quick.
How'd you know her, anyway?”
Eileen shrugged.


244
UNEASY STREET
“Oh, one meets everyone. As a matter of fact,
I think that it was Mr. Baird who introduced us.”
"I fancy his cheek," commented Miss Cather.
“So—you know Baird. How on earth-
“Friend of Jimmy Ladd's. Comrades in arms—
all that sort of thing. Working for Jimmy now."
“Oh, I say! If I've injured him- "
“How could you? I hardly know the man. Met
him a few times—that's all.”
“And does he seem the sort to tie himself up
with a waitress?" asked Miss Cather.
"O Lord, my dear! What a question! What
does one know of the sort of sort our dearest man
friend is?"
“Until we marry him. Then we find out that he's
the lowest sort,” chuckled Miss Cather. “At least,
if one listens to one's friends.” She rose. “Bless
your heart for letting me drop in and shift the
Cather burden for a while to your shoulders.
Darned handsome shoulders, old dear, too!” she said
admiringly.
“Thanks!” said Eileen. She drew the lacy jacket
that had slipped down a bit closer about her.
“Where you going? Aren't you going to spree it
a bit and everything?”
“With that disgusting brother on my neck? I
should say not! I wouldn't have dropped in at all,
Eileen, only Dan Seeley's news was so good that I
had to congratulate you. How much? He said
three or four million.”
Eileen shook her head.
“It's a long ride to Donchester. Things look


UNEASY STREET
245
bigger after you've thought about them. A million,
maybe.”
"It's a bunch,” said Eleanor slangily. "For good-
ness' sake, take care of it, old darling!"
“But you mustn't go so soon,” protested Eileen.
"Must. Engagement to-morrow for luncheon. I
wired Bob. Told him to meet me at the Plaza at
one. I'm going to talk straight to that brother of
mine. Then I'm going to wash my hands of him-
for good.”
“Aren't you a bit cruel, Eleanor?”
Her visitor's eyes suddenly clouded.
“Eileen, if you know how I felt! He's my
brother. But he's been given every chance. Eileen,
this thing—there are certain lapses that don't mat-
ter. They're physical things, not moral. One for-
gives them. But this the eyes of his soul see
crookedly."
Miss Cather left. Eileen analyzed what she had
told her. Fannie Holben had had Baird investi-
gated. Baird had no money. Fannie Holben had
told Eileen that she could jail Baird. What was
the nature of the thing that he had done? She was
going to find out.
There was anger in her eyes as she reached for
the telephone and called up Sam Blackmar. Black-
mar could tell her. He must make good his hints
of last Sunday. And if he couldn't or wouldn't-
She put the telephone down just as she heard Black-
mar's voice.
She-she couldn't ask Blackmar about Baird.


UNEASY STREET
247
some reason or other, he'd been lying. It wasn't
jealousy alone that made him intimate things
against Baird last Sunday. But when Sam Black-
mar wanted to be a close-mouth, a clam was an
open-throat beside him.
Very well, then. Maybe Miss Fannie Holben
could be made to talk if Sam Blackmar wouldn't.
But why on earth had Sam refused to make good
his hints of Sunday? She gave it up. Life was
complex, and people were more so.


UNEASY STREET 249
with the selection of the close-coupled studs for the
sleeves of his expensive and noisy silk shirt.
Down-stairs, in the Tramby café, he breakfasted
with the same deliberation that had characterized
his dressing. One would have known him intimately
to realize that anything had gone wrong in the
Landers life.
His hearty breakfast finished, Landers quietly
paid the check. He was cordial to the hat-boy, and
tipped him generously for aiding him with his rather
bulky fur-lined overcoat. He nodded smilingly to a
couple of acquaintances in the lobby, was depre-
cating in his refusal of a taxi from the starter out-
side.
“Nice brisk morning, Tom; think I'd rather
walk.”
“Certainly, sir. Do you good, sir. Nothing like
the morning air, sir.” The starter touched his hat.
There was something determined in Landers' walk
as he strode eastward. But again one would have
known him well to understand that that firm tread
was due to repression. The most important rule in
the social code of the professional gambler is that
he must wear, no matter how badly the luck breaks
against him, an appearance of nonchalance. It is
extremely bad form to “beef” about your losses.
So, because he was used to veiling his emotions,
Landers veiled them to-day. He was wearing his
usual calm expression when he rang the bell above
the card bearing the name: “F. Holben,” in the
doorway of the apartment-house on East Thirty-


250 UNEASY STREET
fifth Street. It was a modest enough, old-fash-
ioned building, a private dwelling remodeled.
“Nice, quiet place,” said Landers to himself, as
the door, in response to his ring, swung open.
His stride, as he mounted the stairs to the second
floor, was still determined, assured; but there was
a heaviness in it that one hardly expected from one
of his lithe figure.
Fannie herself was standing in the doorway on
the second floor. If her heart skipped a beat, she
still managed a smile.
“Frankie! Aren't you good to come around so
soon?”
Landers passed through the door. He hung his
hat and coat on a stand in the hall and followed
the girl into a living-room. It was a pleasant
room, furnished rather better than Landers had,
somehow or other, expected. Oddly, too, the room
was homelike. Fannie was a home person, and he'd
always known it.
He sat down; his hands fell upon his knees. He
looked down upon the floor, avoiding her eyes. Her
courage rose at this evidence of acquiescence.
“Yeh, I'm good, all right,” he said. His voice
was colorless, leaden.
"Indeed you are! Don't you like my little home?”
She was a bit too bright of voice. Her courage was
rising.
“Yeh; I like it all right. I'd rather picked it
out myself, but so long's you're satisfied, I guess
I can enjoy it, too.”
Like a balloon that had been pierced by an enemy


UNEASY STREET
253
pened that she was the one woman whom Frankie
Landers had ever desired to marry. “Don't-
Frankie-don't you--"
“Don't fret about me. I know my way round in
the dark,” he told her. In his voice there was a
hint of softness. To him she had never been so
appealing, so utterly desirable, as in this moment.
Women were only children; they ought to weep
when they were caught in naughtiness. But the soft-
ness went as quickly as it had come. “You pack!"
“What?”
“You heard me. You pack your things!"
He walked into the hall, climbed into his heavy
overcoat and left the apartment.
Defiance had been in Fannie Holben's heart when
she had sent Landers the check last night. She had
known that, sooner or later, Landers would find out
where she was living. Why postpone the inevitable?
Also, her note and its enclosure would hurt Lan-
ders. Landers had driven a bargain with her. What
right had a man to drive a bargain with a woman
whom he pretended to love? It had pleased her to
hurt him. But his presence had aroused fear.
Now- He was going to see Baird; she was sure
of it. She rushed to the telephone and called up
Ladd & Company.
"Mr. James Ladd, junior,” she said.
“Out of town," came the bored reply of the
telephone-clerk.
She had known it. Last Wednesday night, Jimmy
Ladd had given her a check for five thousand dol-


254
UNEASY STREET
lars. She had telephoned his office the next day
to learn that he was out of town. She had tele-
phoned again on Friday. He was still out of town.
Then she had written him a note, giving him her ad-
dress. Yet she had not heard from him. And to-
day was Tuesday. Almost a week since he had
written her his check, and she had not heard a word
from him.
"Give me Mr. Baird, please,” she said. She
hated to speak with Baird. She'd hoped that Jimmy
might have returned this morning, that she could
tell him the mistake under which Landers labored.
To tell Baird— “This is Miss Holben,” she said.
“Yes?” Baird's tone was cold. Six nights ago,
Eileen had telephoned him of Fannie's visit. Since
then, Eileen's maid had always answered; Miss El-
sing was not at home. He had called twice; Miss
Elsing was not at home.
To Fannie Holben he ascribed his unhappy week.
She was to blame for Eileen's coldness, her neglect.
No longer was he concerned with the moral aspects
of his case. He dealt in physical facts only, now.
He had taken the trunk of money from the Tramby;
he had used some of it; that use had given him his
opportunity in life. Landers had not annoyed him;
Blackmar had let him alone. Since Fannie's visit,
six nights ago, nothing untoward had happened. He
was safe, he reasoned. And it was safety, not ethics,
that was most important.
So now, instead of hating the deed that had put
him in the position of having to undergo injury at
the hands of Fannie Holben, he hated her.


UNEASY STREET 257
Landers had time to fire once. Then Baird was
upon him, and had wrenched the weapon from the
fingers of the slighter man. With his right hand,
he held Landers away from him.
“Be quiet, you fool!” he snapped. “Sit 'down!”
To kill was one thing. To fail to kill was an-
other. Landers could have killed. After killing,
he could have carefully planned his escape. But to
have merely fired at a man, and to be compelled
to face a jail-sentence after having been disgrace-
fully disarmed by his enemy- Landers was white
as Baird walked to the door.
Two clerks were hurrying down the hall.
“Mr. Ladd in yet?” demanded Baird.
The clerks stopped short at sight of him. One
of them wiped his forehead.
"Thought we heard a shot or something, Mr.
Baird,” he giggled.
"A 'shot?!” Baird stared at them blankly.
“Oh–I knocked over a book-case. No; I'll put it
back myself. Mr. Ladd not in?”
“No; not yet, sir.”
“Very well.” Baird closed the door upon them.
He wheeled toward Landers.
“Get out!” he said.
For the first time in his life, Landers was whipped.
Mechanically, he reached for his hat and left the
office. On the steps outside, he met Jimmy Ladd.
A touch of color swept into Ladd's cheeks.
“Did you want to see me, Landers?” he asked.
Landers shook his head.


258
UNEASY STREET
“No; I saw Baird.”
Jimmy pursed his lips. Curious, a little disturbed,
he knocked, a moment later, on the door of Baird's
office. A harsh whisper asked who it was. He
replied.
“Come in,” said Baird.
Baird was sitting in his swivel chair. His coat
was off and he was tying a blood-stained towel
around his arm.
“Well, for—who— Rod!” cried Jimmy.
Baird looked at him grimly.
“Nice mess you got me into, Jimmy. Landers
thinks I've been putting up for that Holben girl,
and— ” He grinned. “Never thought my army
training would help much in this life. I got his
gun- "
“And let him go?” gasped Ladd.
“Well, did you want me to call in the office staff,
and have Landers arrested, and have it come out
that he potted the wrong man?”
A vivid blush swept over Jimmy's face.
“Rod—you're some boy! - "
“Forget the bless-you-my-son stuff,” groaned
Baird. “Do you know a doctor that'll keep his
mouth shut?”
“But can you wait- "
“It's stopped bleeding,” announced Baird. “Help
me on with my coat. It's not much more than a
scratch.".
They left the office by a side exit, little used,
and were fortunate enough to find a taxicab im-


UNEASY STREET 259
mediately. And Doctor Mensted, an old chum of
Jimmy's, was the soul of discretion itself.
“Stay in bed twenty-four hours,” he advised,
after he had attended to the wound, “and you'll
never know you've been hurt.”


UNEASY STREET
261
reached the ears of a young woman who, under the
nom-de-plume of “The Divorcee,” supplied City
Items with some of the paragraphs that made that
weekly journal so popular.
It reached the editorial offices of City Items on
Thursday, in time to catch that week's issue of the
paper. So it happened that, on Friday noon, Jen-
nie Elsing read the paragraph. She immediately
called up Eileen, and Eileen sent her maid out for
a copy of the paper.
She found the paragraph easily. It was the first
one in The Divorcee's column.
A certain young millionaire who acquitted himself
creditably in France has been on the water-wagon
almost a fortnight, and his friends, realizing what
a triumph this was, had hoped for big things, espe-
cially since his multimillionaire father has taken him
into partnership. But some people, on quitting
drink, take to other things. This young man, it is
said, has not substituted drugs for liquor. A re-
volver is his substitute. At any rate, he took a
friend of his-name unknown—to a certain famous
surgeon last Tuesday. Apparently, the two youths
were friendly still, but that may have been camou-
flage for spying servants or nurses. Mr. Unknown
Friend had a bullet-hole in his left arm. Puzzle:
Who did it? And why?
Of course, Jimmy Ladd was the young million-
aire. A cold chill crept over Eileen's heart as she
put the sheet down. City Items was scandalous,


UNEASY STREET 263
and tactfullo his flesh. Young man,
“I'll be wid yez,” he said.
He was, to all appearances, a young man with
nothing on his soul but his flesh. He was merry
as usual. And tactfully, not until dinner was fin-
ished and he had lighted the inevitable cigarette,
did she approach the subject which, by tacit mu-
tual consent, had been thus far avoided.
“Jimmy, I want to talk to you about Rodney
Baird.”
“I thought so,” he jeered. “What have you two
quarreled about?”
Her lips curled a moment.
“We haven't been intimate enough for a quar-
rel, Jimmy.”
“Then why does he think you're still out of
town?"
“Jimmy, you're my friend, aren't you?”
“The best you'll ever have, Eileen,” he assured
her.
“Then it's all right. Well then I want to know
something about Mr. Baird.”
Jimmy puffed on his cigarette.
“Fire away,” he invited.
“Just after I met him, Sam Blackmar objected
to his coming here."
“Jealous," commented Jimmy.
“One night last week, that Holben girl called
on me.”
Jimmy glanced at her swiftly.
“Called on you?”
“To tell me that she could put Mr. Baird in jail
if she chose.”


264 UNEASY STREET
“What?”
“The next day, Eleanor Cather dropped in. Told
me that the Holben woman had paid her brother
to investigate Baird in Donchester. Eleanor was
naturally angry at Bob. She thought he'd sunk
rather low. So did I. But-Bob had discovered
that Baird was practically penniless."
“Well, what of it?" demanded Jimmy pugna-
ciously.
“I don't know. Why should the Holben woman
pay Cather to look up Baird? Does she hope to
marry him?"
“Rot!” declared Jimmy.
“Why did she come to me?”
“Thought you'd be interested enough to buy her
off,” suggested Jimmy.
Eileen colored.
“I wasn't. I didn't even ask what she had to say
against Mr. Baird.”
“What did you do?” asked Jimmy.
"I telephoned him that—that she'd threatened
him. That was all.”
“And since then?"
“I haven't seen him.”
“Refused to see him, eh?”
“Well, supposing I have?"
“Oh, nothing. The easiest way, though, is to
ask. That's the way to find out. Why not ask
Rod what it all means?"
“And mix myself up with-it all looks like dirt,
Jimmy.”


266 UNEASY STREET
think I'd gone out of town. You see, I sort of
liked the little fool. She's kept herself straight,
in her way, until now-I knew she'd balk at pay-
ment.
“Well, I stayed away too long. Landers found
out, went to see her, got the idea it was Rod who
put up for her, came down to the office, and put
a bullet into Rod."
Eileen's color deserted her.
“He wasn't- "
“Nothing much. But-he jumped Landers, took
his gun away from him, kept the whole business
quiet, and—how many men would have let Landers
go?"
She managed a sneer.
“He wanted to dodge scandal,” she said.
Jimmy looked her over coldly.
“You're pretty mean, Eileen, I'm thinking. Yes;
he wanted to dodge scandal. To dodge it for me!
I found him bandaging up a hole in his arm by him-
self. I'm his friend. He'd take a bullet for me
and keep quiet about it. That's friendship, Eileen.”
She leaned forward.
“Jimmy, I'm pretty small, am I not?”
"Well, you don't measure up very big, old dear,"
he told her.
“Is he still "
“Oh, he's all right enough. Been three days in
bed. Had a bit of a fever, but it's gone now.”
“You think he'd like to-hear from me?”
“Don't talk foolishness, Eileen. You know he's
mad about you."


XXVI
DRANKIE LANDERS had been confronted by
T many strange situations in a life devoted to
getting the “sucker-money." Cold nerve had pulled
him through all of them. Perfect master of his tem-
per had he always been.
But blind wrath now swayed him. True, he had
gone armed to see Baird. But what of that? He
was always armed. And, despite the greatest provo-
cation, he had never used a weapon before. He had
drawn it-yes; but he had never fired it.
But love is the unknown quantity, and love had
entered into the Landers life. And love is insepa-
rably accompanied by jealousy. Jealousy had
burned in the heart of Landers from the moment
that Fannie Holben had first cautiously mentioned
the name of Baird.
Back in the Tramby, Landers slunk into the grill
like a whipped pup. He was a whipped pup. He'd
lost his head completely. Baird had turned from
a window, and Landers had shot him. And then,
almost contemptuously, Baird had disarmed him and
ordered him out of the office. Had Baird knocked
him down and handed him over to the police, Lan-
ders' feelings would not have been so outraged.
But—what was there to do about it? Landers
268


UNEASY STREET
269
had his life to live. With the pressing of the trig-
ger that had sent a bullet cutting into Baird's arm,
sanity had returned to Landers. He didn't want to
go to the electric chair, or even to jail. Revenge
was all very well, but where did it get a guy?
He ordered his fifth high-ball. The waiter who
served him grimaced at a fellow. Frankie Landers
was on a “spree" again.
It lasted until Thursday night. On Friday morn-
ing, Landers awoke. Oddly enough, he didn't feel
badly, all things considered. That is, physically.
Mentally and morally, he was much improved over
Tuesday. He had paid the debt due a non-under-
standable emotion—the emotion of shame. Some
men would have killed themselves; others would have
killed Fannie Holben; Landers belonged to another
class, a large one, by the way. He got drunk.
He took the hottest bath that he could stand; he
followed this with a cold shower, rubbing himself
with a coarse towel until it hurt his flesh. Then he
drank a tumblerful of orange juice.
Breakfast was light, but he did manage to swallow
something. Then he went back to bed. He awoke
at six in the afternoon, feeling something like his
old self. After all, a two-day "party" was practi-
cally nothing to him.
Bathed again, and dressed, even those initiate in
the Landers habits would hardly have guessed that
Frankie had been intoxicated for two days.
He dined alone in a Broadway restaurant. He
ate heartily, but mechanically, his mind far from
food.


272
UNEASY STREET
“You're a regular person, after all, Landers.
Listen to me. Fannie told me all about borrowing
money from you. Told me the terms. She was des-
perate. She didn't want to marry anyone. She
wanted to go on the stage. I guessed her mood.
She's all right, but-she wanted something—bad!
To get it—well, if it wasn't I, it would be some one
else. At the moment. So—I gave her the money
she wanted and-stayed away.”
“You stayed away, eh? Why?”
Jimmy blushed.
“Oh, let's say I'm not altogether a fool. I knew
that, if I came, she'd discover that she wasn't that
sort. Also, if I stayed away long enough, she'd dis-
cover the same thing. I think she's discovered it by
now. She's had time to think it over. That's all
she needed. She thought over the terms with you,
and didn't like them. Well-my terms were a lot
worse. If you hadn't jumped in, she'd have come
to you."
Landers rose.
"I guess you don't need any kisses on your white
forehead, do you, Mr. Ladd? You know where you
stand with me. Any time, anywhere, any amount-
I guess I'll mosey along over to see Fannie. So
long."
This time he didn't walk; he took a taxi. In five
minutes he was ringing Fannie's bell, and in twenty
seconds more he was facing her.
“Young Ladd's been to see me,” he told her.
“He's given me the low-down on the deal.”
She was a rather woebegone Fannie. She had


274 UNEASY STREET
He was domineering now. She yielded before him,
and his meekness—his surprising meekness, since he
had failed in his attack on Baird-gave way before
her own.
He heard her all through. There was no con-
demnation in his eyes or his speech at her confes-
sion of blackmail. Neither did he upbraid her be-
cause she had attempted to “double-cross” him.
That was to have been expected. Of course, now
that they were to be married, it was different. But
on Broadway it is every man for himself, and every
woman twice as much so.
“So—that's it?" he said, when she had finished.
He seemed to forget her presence as he went to
the telephone and called up Blackmar. He spoke
long.
“Get it?” he finished. “We can't prove a thing,
but—I can make it hot for him. I'm gonna try,
anyway.”
“Keep out of it,” warned Blackmar. “Leave this
to me; I can handle it twice as well.”
“Well, have it your way,” grunted Landers.
He hung up and turned to Fannie.
“Put on your hat and coat,” he commanded.
“Where we going?” she asked.
“You'll find out quick enough,” he said. “Do
as I tell you."
“Frankie?”
“Well?”
“You're going to be you're going to be
Frankie, you won't-
His eyes softened.


UNEASY STREET 275
"Listen, kid: I wouldn't marry you if I didn't love
you. And you can go all through the Landers his-
tory and you won't find a one of them that ever
beat his wife.” He kissed her. Then he spoke again.
“That minister over Hoboken way'll be in the hay,
kid, if we don't hustle. Come on."
le


XXVII
DAIRD grunted as he turned painfully over in
bed. He grinned, too. He was not so very
different from the millions of soldiers of whom he
had been one a few weeks ago. He believed, without .
vanity, that, had he been wounded upon the field of
battle as slightly as he had been wounded by Lan-
ders, he would have tied the arm up with the first-
aid kit and continued fighting.
And now here he was occasionally groaning, and
fuming and fretting all the time. He was permitting
himself to be sent to bed, even took his own tem-
perature. He visualized his future. In about five
or six months, he'd wonder if that twinge in his
elbow was really rheumatism or not. He'd begin to
wear a red-flannel band round his tummy, and he'd
massage himself on the chest with pungent, greasy
oils whenever he had a bit of a cough. Yes, and
he'd probably wear carpet slippers round the house,
and sit, huddled up, near the radiator.
His grin became rueful. One can't visualize car-
pet slippers without visualizing home, and “home”
means a woman. Well, he'd quit looking into the fu-
ture. The only woman in the world had inherited
money, and she had disinherited friendships that had
been too sudden in the making.
276


UNEASY STREET
277
His voice was petulant as he heard a gentle rap on
his door.
“Grannan, I don't want a thing, d'y hear? All
I want is for you to go off somewhere and die.”
“B-r-r-r! Do you bite, too?”
He sat bolt upright in bed.
“Eileen!”
Through the door came a gurgle of laughter.
“I don't blame your man for being so reluctant
if you always talk to him like that.”
“Just a mom- Eileen, you shouldn't have
come here!"
“That's why I came," she answered.
He didn't bother to analyze the remark. He
couldn't have. How could he know that Eileen had
come here, in defiance of the procedure ordained by
society for the guidance of young females, because
only by that coming could she do sufficient penance
for her doubts? He didn't even know that Jimmy
Ladd had been to see her to-night.
The elevator-boy had looked at her oddly when
she asked for the floor on which Mr. Baird lived.
"Ladies ain't permitted to call, ma'am,” he said.
She colored. She didn't even try to look haughty.
She knew perfectly well that, in such a place as
Derriby's, nocturnal visits of women are frowned
upon. She knew it, but had not bothered to think
about it. Swept forward by an emotion bigger than
her prejudices, the little narrownesses of convention
now served to check that emotion. She would have
turned, shamefaced, and fled, but that a smooth
voice spoke.


278 UNEASY STREET
“Never you mind tellin' Miss Baird that she can't
call, Kelly," said the voice. “There's rules and ex-
ceptions, too; exceptions, Kelly, mind that. Step
in, Miss Baird.”
She turned to meet the smirking features of the
speaker.
“Mr. Baird's been expecting you all day, ma'am,"
said the man.
She shrank into the lift, and could hardly move
her gaze from the smug face of the uniformed ser-
vant who spoke to her. But, when they reached the
top floor and the elevator had descended, the servant
grinned. Also, he winked.
“No use trying to explain things to people like
Kelly, ma'am,” he said. “My name's Grannan,
ma'am. Valet to Mr. Baird. Mr. Baird's room's
down this way. When you're leaving, just walk
out like you owned the place, miss.”
The final “miss" seemed, she felt, to render her
declassée. She wondered vaguely if Grannan were
accustomed to guiding women to Baird's rooms.
And then she felt guilty, because she had harbored,
even for a second, another evil thought about
Baird.
But when she had knocked on the door and had
heard Baird's voice, all misgivings as to what she
was doing left her. The man on the other side of
the door was “mad about her.” That was the only
important thing in the world. It was sheer agony
to wait while Baird unfastened the door.
He opened it at last. About him was drawn a


UNEASY STREET
279
heavy bath-robe. He had donned it hastily, in won-
derment that amounted to bewilderment.
“Eileen! You shouldn't- "
She hesitated on the threshold. His own uncer-
tainty gave her apparent certainty.
“Do you want me to go?” she asked.
His blank expression was answer enough. He
stepped aside as she entered the room.
"I should think,” she said, as he closed the door,
“that you'd say you were glad to see me. Or do you
receive visitors so often?”
She was more than flippant; she was cheap-for
the moment. But Baird knew the reason, knew that
this nonchalance but hid her inner excitement.
“You know that I don't," he told her.
She shrugged. “Your man Grannan didn't seem
surprised at my calling.”
“My man Grannan is—capable of meeting a situ-
ation," he replied lamely. He could not tell her that
his man Grannan was keeping him, now that he was
confined to his room, under an espionage that, Baird
thought, included opening his mail.
“Apparently he is,” she said.
“Yes—capable man,” said Baird.
“Men make wonderful servants,” said Eileen.
"Much better than women.”
“They surely do,” agreed Baird.
He fumbled at his throat with his right hand,
drawing his robe closer. The girl looked away from
him. She had come upon the impulse of emotion,
and—they were discussing the servant question.


280
UNEASY STREET
The color that had begun to ebb from her cheeks
blazed now. She, too, tumbled at her throat, loosen-
ing the catch of her heavy coat.
“May I help?” he asked.
He came near to her. The robe fell away from
one shoulder and she saw that his left arm was in
a sling.
"You poor-Rodney! Jimmy has been to see
me to-night. I couldn't wait. He told me how.”
She pointed at the sling.
Baird jerked the robe's folds together.
“Silly fool, Jimmy! What did he tell you?
Might have kept his mouth shut. Can't see any
reason why- "
"No? When I was thinking all sorts of things
of you? Rodney Baird, that sling is slipping. Let
me fix it.”
She waved aside his protests. She made him sit
down in a chair while she adjusted the loosened sling.
It was necessary for her to remove her coat. Her
arms, bare to the shoulder, went round his neck while
her fingers fumbled at the knot of the sling.
How it happened neither of them could have told
five minutes later. Perhaps it was the touch of her
smooth, firm forearms against his check; perhaps
it was a tendril of hair that brushed against his
lips; perhaps it was the meeting of their eyes. Any-
way, there was an incoherent moment when his right
arm went about her, when her lips met his, and her
pliant body pressed against him.
She laughed when he released her. The loosened


UNEASY STREET
281
sling had been forgotten by both. Only, Baird's
wince, as she leaned against the wounded arm, re-
minded her of what she had begun to do.
She laughed. In the laugh were pity, tenderness,
the mirthfulness of youth which takes nothing seri-
ously, and the seriousness of maternity which takes
most things too seriously. For maternity begins
with love, not with marriage.
"I'm afraid that you wouldn't recommend me as
a nurse,” she said. “Sit still! You mustn't! Let
me fix- "
He finally let her, even to the patting of the collar
of his robe into correct position. Then she waved
away his clutching hand and sat down opposite him.
“Rodney Baird, I'm compromised. You know
that?”
“Grannan will keep his mouth shut. Besides, he
doesn't know you,” he told her. He was uneasily
conscious that perhaps neither of the statements
would hold good.
“Gents what have compromised ladies are con-
fronted by only one honorable course,” she said.
He looked at her. Her hair was slightly tumbled.
The flush that a glance from him would always
cause to rise to her cheeks—until custom banished
the thrill it gave her—was in her skin now. It was
not a blush; it was the color that comes from a
pulse beating above normal.
“Will you marry me, Eileen?” he asked.
She colored; he paled. It was absurd, despite
what had just passed, despite her coming down here,
that she would really-


282
UNEASY STREET
"Perhaps, when you've heard what I have to say,
you won't want to marry me.” He laughed. It was
too ridiculous! “Rodney, for the past week I've
been thinking— Rodney, that Holben women has
nomno reason for— "
Well, he was face to face with it at last. At last?
It was only a little over two weeks ago that he had
succumbed to temptation. Yet it seemed ages ago.
“None at all,” he assured her easily.
“You haven't I'm not a girl, Rodney. I'm a
woman. If there's anything that
“There isn't a thing. She had me mixed up with
some one else, Eileen. She thought that she could
get money from me. When she discovered that she
couldn't- " He shrugged. “There was abso-
lutely no reason in the world why she should
think- "
“She said that she could put you in jail.”
He smiled.
“I think she's insane."
"It doesn't matter, anyway. What does matter
is that I've doubted, distrusted. Jimmy told me to-
night about what you'd done for him. Kept quiet
about Landers- Rodney, is there any reason in
the world why I shouldn't marry you?"
His lips twisted in a queer crooked smile.
“Except that maybe you don't care enough,
Eileen?”
It was incredibly easy. She apparently dismissed
Fannie Holben from her mind. Yet, after all, the
other things that he had done had been incredibly



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UNEASY STREET
283
easy. From two hundred a month, he had stepped
into two thousand a month. If one had the nerve,
and intelligence to back that nerve-
She drew her brows together.
“'Care?' 'Enough? Do you suppose that any-
thing less than caring too much would bring me
here at this time? But, Rodney, are you sure that,
I've sort of forced a proposal from you, haven't I?”
"You surely have—by your beauty and your
charm, my dear.”
Eileen rose and dropped him a courtesy. She
looked unbelievably young in the simple little white
dinner dress.
“Help me on with my coat, Rodney. I-after
Jimmy left—I couldn't sleep until I'd—seen you.
Oh, Rodney."
The last was a sigh, a sigh of surrender. More
than that, it was the sigh of conquest, the long-
drawn breath that follows strife. For no woman is
married until she has striven both for and against
the urge of love. So is surrender conquest, too.
This time, he did not draw her to him savagely.
Gently he put his arm about her; placidly, almost,
she suffered him to do so. His lips were caressing
her hair when a knock upon the door drove them,
apart.
“Eh? Who is it?" he called.
“Blackmar,” came the answer. “Can you see me,
Baird?”
Within the room, the two stared at each other.
Her lips framed a whispered question: "What does
Sam want with you?"


XXVIII
TOR once, Blackmar was not immaculate. There
T was a red line on his forehead, where his hat
had been pulled too tightly. His mustache was still
the toothbrush sort, but it was a well-worn one, with
its bristles straggly. His tie had been hastily
knotted and had slipped to one side in the collar,
exposing the edge of the gold button. Also, in fas-
tening his waistcoat, he had not taken care that
the holes and the buttons matched.
The cool calm that Baird had envied, that air
of slight boredom that had been so insufferable,
were gone to-night. These things, queerly, had ren-
dered him colorless. Their absence defined him, gave
him character. A dozen character-analysts could
not have explained so clearly to Baird the reason
for Blackmar's success in life as this view of him
as he entered the apartment. For, while he gave
no particular impression of strength, he did give an
impression of energy.
For a moment, Blackmar did not speak. It
seemed to Baird that he was striving to regain that
poise which was absent to-night.
“Nice place you have here, Baird,” he said finally,
Baird carefully unbuttoned the top of his robe.
Then he buttoned it again. He leaned against the
mantel.
worcev
285


290
UNEASY STREET
sold a fortnight ago. And it wasn't enough to pay
for the pin that you bought for Miss Elsing.”
“Still, I might have had some other money," sug-
gested Baird.
“You might—but you didn't. Where'd you get
it?"
"Men have been known to save from their salaries.
Mind, I'm not saying that I did. I'm not saying
anything. I'm merely asking you if you are sure
that I couldn't have had some other money?”
"Sure enough,” said Blackmar. “Are you com-
ing through, Baird?”
“And if I don't?”
“I'll go to Ladd.”
“Do you think Ladd will believe you?”
Blackmar sneered again,
“I think so. You know, Baird, you're a pre-
possessing young man and all that, but suppose
Ladd asked you to show him some proof of financial
responsibility—you wouldn't care for him to do
that?"
“ 'Proof, eh?” Baird summoned amusement to
his eyes. "I thought that you were going to ad-
vance proof, Blackmar.”
Blackmar stared at him. He spoke slowly.
“You're certainly no fool, Baird. You have
nerve, but-you know you can't get away with this.
And-Landers was willing to pay fifty thousand a
couple of weeks ago. I'll pay that now. And—I'll
keep still.”
It was temptation. Only-Eileen was in the next
room. Further, his salary from Jimmy Ladd was


UNEASY STREET
291
due in two weeks. A few months of that salary, and
he could replace the money that he had used, could
deny that he had ever touched a penny of it.
To accept a bribe now—even if Eileen were not
within hearing-
“Blackmar, if you—or Landers-lost two hun-
dred thousand dollars, why didn't you go to the
police?"
“That's our business !” snapped Blackmar. “Baird,
better listen. Until I knew that you'd taken that
money-well, I could wait. Now that I know-
Baird, you'd better settle. You don't know this
man's town. Things happen here. For instance,
Derriby's is a rather strict place, you know.”
“Well?” Baird felt his forehead grow warm.
“Oh, you have other ambitions than financial.
Suppose that you were kicked out of Derriby's in
the middle of the night because some light piece were
found in your rooms. It would make nice reading
in the morning. Miss Elsing might happen to see
it."
Baird shook his head slowly.
“Blackmar, you're pretty low.”
“How about yourself? Having your mistress in
here while you're trying to marry Miss Elsing! A
cheap little bookkeeper, four flushing, pretending to
have money. Having money, but stolen money!"
"All through?” Baird's voice was low.
“ Through?" I haven't begun yet. You took
that money- "
“But he says that he didn't take it, Sam."
Wheeling, Blackmar faced Eileen. She was as


294
UNEASY STREET
passed through the door. They heard the ring of
the elevator-bell.
“Wait until I dress, Eileen,” said Baird. He
started for the bedroom. She detained him.
“Think I'd let you out with your bad arm?" she
asked.
“You must,” he said.
He closed the door of the bedroom behind him.
His head whirled. Eileen believed him. Further,
Blackmar had exposed the weakness of the claimants
to the money. They didn't dare go to the police.
He was safe.
Another thought came to him: How could he ever
return the money now? It would damn him forever
to do so. He breathed deeply. Well, why think
about returning it? Blackmar couldn't, or wouldn't
-it came to the same thing—prove his title.
Always it had been his intention to seek out the
rightful owner when he had replaced what portion
of it he had used. But now a new, an unexpected
angle had obtruded itself upon him. How could he
return the money? If only Eileen had not over-
heard!
It did not do to tell himself that he needn't think
about returning it. Blackmar's epithet had burned
into his spirit. He was not a thief! He would not
keep the money!
It was almost amusing. He was more frightened
now at the prospect of being compelled, in self-
defence, to retain the money than he had ever been
at the prospect of discovery.
But there must be a way out. There had to be


UNEASY STREET 295
a way out. Only—no way out that he could see led
also to Eileen. If she knew, But she believed in
him. Later, he'd figure— He was not a thief. Cir-
cumstances could not make him one.
He thrilled again as he kissed her just before
they left. There was trust, faith, in the way her
lips clung to his. But her eyes were slightly filmed.
She trusted him. He knew that; in the moment of
love's acknowledgment she would not question. But
by and by- He talked feverishly all the way down-
stairs to the taxi.


XXIX
O NCE in the machine, he became silent. Eileen
was no ordinary girl. She was the product of
her day and generation. There still remained in
the world, of course, sweet little women who did not
read the newspapers, and thought business was so
tiresome and woman's place was in the home and all
that sort of thing. But Eileen was not that kind.
She could love; she could have faith, but love would
never make a fool of her-her faith was the sort
that requires a basis.
He could, he had no doubt, convince her that
Blackmar was in the grip of a most amazing error.
But if he began to attempt that convincing before
he'd weighed all the evidence as carefully as Eileen
would later on weigh it, he'd surely make admis-
sions that would hurt.
But Eileen, just now, was in no mood to analyze
the man that she loved, who was “mad about her.”
At the moment, she had all that she craved: Baird's
arm about her shoulders and her head upon his
breast. So, like any clerk taking his girl home from
the theater, they rode up Fifth Avenue and across
Fifty-ninth Street.
Baird would have left her at her apartment.
Common sense told him to go. But when did com-
296


298
UNEASY STREET
Eileen alone until he had planned his story, the bet-
ter for him.
For he was in for it-in for it up to his eyes.
He wanted her; he wouldn't give her up! It had
been necessary to take money that wasn't his own
to advance his first acquaintance. It was necessary
to lie to further that acquaintance until it was mar-
riage. Well, he hadn't balked at the first; he'd not
balk at the second.
But, to his relief, she asked no questions. She sat
beside him, carefully arranging a cushion against his
crippled arm, and let herself relax. It was sweet,
leaning against him, letting his strength become her
own. Blackmar and the scene in which he had just
enacted a prominent part faded out of her con-
sciousness. She did not even bother to wonder why
Jimmy Ladd, who had dined with her this evening,
should wish to call again. Yet she knew Jimmy well
enough to know that when he was apparently most
nonchalant, he was in reality most serious. His
conversation over the telephone would ordinarily
have aroused her curiosity. But not to-night. She
was too completely under the sway of Baird's
personality.
She jumped up as the door-bell rang. She ex-
claimed with dismay lest her sudden start had hurt
Baird's wounded arm. She kissed him again. Then,
patting her hair into place, she went down the hall
and opened the door. Jimmy entered silently. He
spoke no word until, his hat and coat hung up, he
reached the living-room. Then, feet wide apart, he
stood before the gaslog and surveyed them.


UNEASY STREET
299
“Well, it's all settled, I perceive. My warm felici-
tations, children. Baird's the second-best match
you could have made, Eileen.”
“The first being?” she laughed.
“James McPherson Ladd, junior, at your ser-
vice, ma'am. Oh, well, if I won't do as a husband,
I'll make a fine godfather.”
“Jimmy!" But it did no good to be shocked.
Jimmy merely grinned.
"I can see myself dousing the young 'un in the
font—that what they use? Yes, font. Little James
Ladd Baird!”
“Jimmy, go home,” said Eileen.
“I'll stop it,” he said. He held out his hand to
Baird. “Some rapid worker, feller. Well, you de-
serve her.”
The pressure of his fingers was like a tightening
coil of circumstance. This further evidence of
Jimmy's friendship, this warm congratulation, made
it but the harder to confess—made it impossible!
“Thanks, Jimmy,” he muttered.
“And don't I get any congratulation?” demanded
Eileen.
Jimmy laughed.
“That's the woman of it. All vanity.”
“ “Vanity? I think it is modest of me,” said
Eileen.
Ladd laughed again.
“You women are funny, Eileen. It isn't suffi-
ciently flattering to your vanity that the man should
be complimented because he has been lucky enough
to win such a feminine prize; the woman wants to be


300
UNEASY STREET
congratulated because her attractions were great
enough to land so desirable a husband.”
"Not much logic to that remark,” sniffed Eileen.
Jimmy pondered a moment.
“Well, perhaps there isn't. Think it over,
though.” He turned to Baird. "Time you were in
bed, feller. Fine wife you'll make, Eileen-letting
a sick man out this way!”
“I couldn't help it,” she excused. “He insisted."
“Well, I'll do a little insisting, then. I knew
blamed well that if Baird were here, he'd stick around
until morning. You two idiots — The conve-
nances mean darned little to you two love-birds,
don't they? You, Eileen, going to Baird's rooms,
and bringing Baird home It's late; come on,
Rod."
Considerately he walked down the hall while the
couple bade each other good-by.
Outside, he gave the address to the taximan who
had been waiting for him. He held the door for
Baird. He was suddenly taciturn. Baird welcomed
the mood. He was tired. His wound was a scratch,
but it did ache a little, and reaction from excitement
and strain set in.
He was sleepy when they reached his rooms.
Jimmy went along up-stairs with him.
“Mind if I stick round long enough for a smoke?”
he asked.
“Tickled to death,” said Baird.
Jimmy lighted a cigarette. He slumped down in
a chair and idly watched Baird as the latter divested
himself of his outer clothing. His eyes were half


UNEASY STREET
305
It was a mild narcotic, and it stilled his fancies.
Stilled them, but left them with him. He saw Don-
chester-no; he couldn't go back there. But he saw
himself in some similar town, working at a desk, on
a high stool. He saw Eileen- He couldn't do it.
Blackmar was weak. The world belonged to the
strong. He was strong. It hadn't been weakness
—that first step of his; it had been strength. He
kept repeating the statement to himself until he fell
asleep.


XXX
DEFORE going to sleep that night, Baird had
D finally persuaded himself that his actions were
based upon strength of character. He knew better
in the morning and, knowing better, there was but
one thing to do.
Blackmar might have attempted suicide because
of Eileen. The world, that portion of it which knew
Blackmar and Eileen, would assume so. Blackmar
had made his last throw. He had charged Baird di-
rectly with having committed theft. Then-at-
tempted self-destruction and—silence.
The game was over, unless Baird chose to renew
it. Blackmar, Fannie Holben, Frankie Landers—
there was no more to fear from these. They could
prove nothing. The money that he had found in the
canvas trunk in his room in the Tramby was his,
if he chose to take it.
With the game entirely in his hand, he bathed,
shaved with fussy care, arrayed himself carefully,
ate breakfast, read in the newspapers about the
progress of peace, and took a taxi to the Graduates.
There was some difficulty about seeing Blackmar.
The club employees were suspicious of strangers;
but he finally persuaded them to send his name up
to Blackmar, Three minutes later he was in Black-
mar's room.
306


308 UNEASY STREET
“You don't think so?” Blackmar sneered. Baird
shook his head.
“Why—no. You see—it's this way: I saw a
chance to-do the things I wanted to do. I took
the chance. But when it comes to some one's trying
to kill himself-why, that's different.” His manner
became suddenly businesslike, almost brisk. “You'll
have to wait for some of it. I've used it. But-
most of it-about two hundred thousand of it,
you'll find in here."
He handed Blackmar the storage-warehouse re-
ceipt for the suitcase in which the money now re-
posed. Blackmar fingered it carelessly, not looking
at it.
“I suppose you know that restitution, even com-
plete restitution, doesn't nullify criminality.” Baird
shook his head slowly.
“I don't think you get me, Blackmar. I'm not
trying to avoid anything except- " He paused.
“Except what?" demanded Blackmar.
“Well-er-this." He made no gesture, but his
eyes swept the bed. Red flushed Blackmar's pale
cheeks.
“You needn't worry, Baird,” he said. “I—a man
does-we're all yellow. It crops out in different
ways. Mine cropped out last night. It's over.”
“I'm glad,” said Baird. He rose. “I guess that's
all, Blackmar. The money that I've-used- "
“Why not say stolen?” interrupted Blackmar.
Baird nodded.
“The money that I've stolen, then–I can't pay it


UNEASY STREET
309
back now. You'll get it sometime.” He moved
toward the door.
“Sit down!” snapped Blackmar. Anger—the first
-flashed in Baird's eyes.
“You needn't give orders, you know, Blackmar.
Let the police do that. They can find me."
“Wait a bit. Who mentioned police?" Baird
shrugged.
“They naturally follow, don't they?"
“Sit down,” said Blackmar again. His tone was
that of a request now. Baird sat down.
“Do you mean to tell me that— " Blackmar
stopped. He began again. “How'd you know it was
money that made me try what I tried last night?”
“You're hardly the sort to kill yourself for love,"
said Baird.
Blackmar colored again. His laugh was self-
contemptuous.
“I'd be a more admirable sort if I were,” he said.
“But-you're right. No woman plays that big a
part for me. You're different.” Baird shrugged.
Blackmar studied him. “You don't seem worried
about prosecution,” he said. There was something
of exasperation in Baird's tone as he replied:
“I'm not worried at all, Blackmar. Please under-
stand that. I wanted something. I took the first
way that presented itself to get that something. It
turns out that the way holds unpleasantness that
can't be offset by the pleasantness of the goal.
That's all."
"Noblesse oblige, eh?”
“Hardly that.”


310 UNEASY STREET
“No? I rather think that it is, Baird, I-well,
let it go that I'm much obliged. You needn't worry
about the few thousand that are gone.”
“I'll pay it back sometime,” said Baird. Black-
mar shrugged.
“Suit yourself. I suppose you understand that
there'll be no prosecution.” Baird stood silent, his
face expressionless.
“That's decent of you, Blackmar.” The man in
the bed laughed.
“Decent, eh? Don't thank me, Baird. The-er
-circumstances are such that publicity wouldn't do
at all. I'll be honest with you. That money was
intended for
“It really doesn't matter,” said Baird.
“Oh, but it does !” protested Blackmar. “One
politician was to get two hundred thousand. The
balance was to go to his retainers. A transaction
matter "
“Why tell me?" asked Baird.
“Why?” Blackmar propped himself up on the
bed. “Because it isn't worth while, Baird. I knew
it a minute-a tenth of a second, after I'd pressed
the trigger. Thank God it wasn't too late! But I
don't want you leaving here and spilling your brains
all over the pavement.” Baird laughed.
“I hadn't the slightest idea of -
“Maybe not this minute. But by and by-
Forget it. Drive it out of your mind. Money? I was
worth millions last fall. I wanted more millions. I
took a long chance, and the armistice broke me. I
kept it as quiet as I could, but because I was crazy


XXXI
T IMMY'S father received Baird in his den. A silk
jacket, gorgeously embroidered, covered his
shoulders, a bit shrunken, it seemed, since Baird had
last seen him.
The old gentleman waved a friendly hand. But
its pressure, when Baird took it in his own, was none
too strong.
“This is fine of you looking me up, Baird,” he
said. “Jimmy told you I'd been under the weather
a trifle?”
“Why—er—I was passing by— " Ladd seemed
not to notice the interruption.
“Been under the weather yourself a bit, haven't
you?” Baird colored. Unconsciously he moved
his wounded shoulder. “About," the old man spoke
measuredly, "as decent a thing as has come to
my notice in a long, long time. I won't embarrass
you, Mr. Baird. Just let me say 'Thank you!
Jimmy made no mistake about you. It took not
merely courage to handle that man Landers, but a
quick and ready tact. Jimmy made no mistake,”
he repeated emphatically. “How's the business ap-
peal to you?” he demanded.
It was hard, much harder even than he had ex-
pected. To meet with commendation, with grati-
tude, when one has come to make confession-
313


314 UNEASY STREET
“It—it's been the greatest chance of my life, Mr.
Ladd,” he said. “I-am grateful."
“Grateful nothing!” snorted the old man. “I'm
grateful to you.” He grinned. “That quixotic son
of mine! Oh, well, it's his very recklessness that
makes him lovable. And you'll have a tendency to
sober him. You're more conservative.” He shifted
abruptly from the subject. “Once more, Mr. Ladd,
let me thank you. . . . Jimmy has told me all about
it, and— " He reached, from the depths of the
chair in which he seemed, oddly, so small, his thin
hand.
Baird looked at it. He could not shake it again.
“Mr. Ladd,” he said steadily, “Jimmy telephoned
me New Year's eve. He invited me to a party. I
went. I met " He stopped quickly. Eileen was
in no way to blame for what he had done. Her name
would not be mentioned. “I went back to my room
at the Tramby_broke. Next morning I found, un-
der my bed, a trunk. It was filled with money.
Something over two hundred thousand dollars. I
took a hundred of it to pay Jimmy money that I'd
borrowed. Then, for other purposes, I took several
thousand. I moved from the Tramby. I got rid of
the trunk in which the money had been. I put the
bulk of the money in a suitcase and stored it in a
warehouse."
He had been looking down. Now, as he glanced
up, he was amazed to find that upon the face of his
auditor was no condemnation.
“Go on; go on," commanded Mr. Ladd. Baird
drew in a long breath.


UNEASY STREET
315
“That's about all. Except that to-day I turned
over the warehouse receipt to the man who held the
best claim to the money, promised to repay what I
had spent-stolen," he corrected himself, “whenever
I may be able,-and came to tell you.”
"Jimmy knowp" asked the old man. Baird shook
his head.
"I don't want to tell him, Mr. Ladd. I can't. So
I thought you'd say good-by to him for me, tell
what I've told you— "
“To whom did you give the warehouse receipt?
Who's the man that owns the money?" Baird
shrugged.
“It doesn't matter much, does it, Mr. Ladd?”
“Matter! I would say it does. I want to know
the best way to keep his mouth shut.”
"His mouth shut?” Baird's astonishment was
palpable.
“Of course. You don't suppose we want any
scandal about an employee of Ladd & Company, do
you?” The old gentleman fairly bristled at the
thought.
“Sam Blackmar,” said Baird. The old gentle-
man pursed his lips.
"I know a few ways to stop his talk. Well, who
else?” Baird shrugged.
"It's out of the question, Mr. Ladd. Too many
people know of the money's loss "
"Blackmar tried to kill himself last night, didn't
he? He won't have talked to many people. He can
be quieted all right. Don't let that worry you. But
how did the money get into your room?"


316 UNEASY STREET
Baird looked at him searchingly. Still there was
nothing of condemnation in Ladd's eyes. On the
contrary, there was a sympathetic encouragement.
Almost before he knew it, he was launched on the
full story. Finished, finally he stared down at the
floor. There was a moment of silence, broken by a
chuckle. He glanced up.
“Eileen is deadly," said the old man. “Her
mother, bless her memory, was the same.” Baird
stiffened.
"Maybe I've said more than I meant, sir. Miss
Elsing is in no way responsible. I'd have done the
same thing if I hadn't met her.”
“Have you told her?” demanded Ladd suddenly.
Baird's face blazed. He shook his head.
“I can't do that, sir,” he said.
“No?” The old man's voice was suddenly crisp.
“Why not?”
“It'd be a bit too much,” he protested.
“Too much what? Punishment? You stole,
didn't you?” Crispness had become harshness. Yet
there was nothing that Baird could say. His head
dropped lower. “Some men,” went on the old man,
"go to jail for theft. Yet you won't tell the girl
you intended to marry, Jimmy told me about your
engagement only last night, you won't tell her,
haven't the courage to tell her what you've done.
Seems to me that, inasmuch as there doesn't seem
any prospect of jail, you're getting off rather
lightly, aren't you?”
“I suppose so, Mr. Ladd.”
“H’m.” Ladd eyed him closely. “Did you know


UNEASY STREET
317
that there was no danger of jail when you confessed
to Blackmar?"
"I hadn't thought much about it,” said Baird.
"I didn't suppose that you had,” commented
Ladd. The harshness suddenly left his tone. "You
came to me because you thought it might be easier,
eh?”
Baird assented, rather miserable of tone.
“And just now I jumped down your throat, eh?
But a moment before, I didn't seem very upset, eh?
Don't understand it? Well, there's only one way to
come clean, my boy. Some one said it a long time
ago. Confession is good for the soul. Eileen must
know."
“After I've goneyes," admitted Baird.
“Gone where?” Baird threw his hands apart.
“Anywhere-out of New York.”
"Ladd & Company has no branch offices," said the
old man. “You mean, I take it, that you're leav-
ing us?”
Baird stared at him in bewilderment. He was
a most incomprehensible old man. One minute, he
seemed actually amused by Baird's recital; the next
vitriolically angry; the next—but Baird couldn't
define ... this third mood.
“Why, of course," he answered.
“Mind handing me that cigar-box?”
Baird had not realized how nervous he was until
he complied with the request. For his fingers could
hardly grip the polished lacquered box.
The old gentleman selected a cigar, clipped its
end with a gold cutter attached to his watch-chain,


318
UNEASY STREET
lighted it, and drew in its fragrance lustily. He
offered the box to Baird, who declined. The old
man chuckled.
“Bad for me; fatal, the doctor told me the other
day. Asses, doctors! Always blaming one's trou-
bles on tobacco or liquor. Don't smoke; it'll make
you nervous, says my doctor. Lord! Not smoking
will make me twice as nervous." He contemplated
his cigar a moment. “So you're leaving Ladd &
Company. Let's discuss it. Let's analyze it, by
way of getting to the root of our difficulties. For,
after all, as the head of Ladd & Company, I'm to
be considered, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” said Baird.
“Well then; you come in here and spring a tale of
Arabian Nights quality, and I don't seem shocked
at your confession. Then I do become angry be-
cause you are avoiding your duty to Eileen, which
is to confess to her. Seems as if I make acknowledg-
ment of wrong-doing as important as the wrong-
doing itself. Well, I do. It's more important.
"You stole some money. You spent it. You in-
tended-well, never mind your intentions. You did
it for reasons that seemed good and sufficient to you
at the time. It doesn't matter what the reasons
were. They satisfied you.
"Well, the man whose money you stole tried to
kill himself. You were safe. Nothing could be
proved against you. But you went to him and con-
fessed. As nearly as I can make out, the penalties
of confession were not considered by you.
“Then you come to me. You want Jimmy and


UNEASY STREET
319
Eileen to know, but you don't want to tell them
yourself. Now, Baird, I'm getting old. I've lived
long enough to be able to suspend final judgment
on anything that anyone does. It is wrong for a
man to steal bread in New York. But if he were
shipwrecked upon a desert island and came upon an
empty shack in which there was bread, he would not
be a thief if he took it and ate it.
"I'm not defending what you've done. I'm de-
fending myself, though, for not condemning you.
Balance—that's the law of life. If one steals, one
must expiate. Expiation is in different ways. For
some it means jail; for others - You took money
that was not yours because you wanted to shine in
the eyes of a girl, because you wanted to land a po-
sition with my firm.
“Well, in confessing, when there was no compul-
sion to confess, you struck the balance essential in
this world. You returned the money-most of it;
you will return the rest. You gave up your posi-
tion; you gave up the girl you had won. In other
words, you restored the balance that had existed be-
fore you stole. What more can be asked of you?”
“You ask more," said Baird. “You want me to
tell Eileen.” The old gentleman shrugged.
“Because I want her to have her chance."
“Her chance?” Baird's mouth remained open.
"Exactly. You've asked her to marry you. She's
accepted your offer. Yet you propose running
away from her "
"Good God,” cried Baird, “I'm a thief! Do you


320
UNEASY STREET
suppose that she'd look at me again? Why, I'm
saving her sorrow, humiliation !"
“Aren't you saving it for yourself, rather?” coun-
tered Ladd.
Baird's face whitened. He rose and looked down
upon the old man.
“I can't tell you, Mr. Ladd, how-how-you're
the whitest man I've ever known. You're—you're
Jimmy's dad, all right. But-good-by, Mr. Ladd.”
Blindly he rushed down the stairs, took his hat
from the amazed servant who had watched his hasty
descent, and fairly fled into the street. Old man
Ladd was the whitest, the most decent man that ever
breathed. But he, Baird, must not be misled by the
kindness of one individual. Jimmy would despise
him, and Eileen would hate him. It was right that
they should
Until now, he had not felt remorse. He had done
what he felt that common decency compelled him
to do. But that very recognition of the demands
of common decency made him realize that he had
outraged common decency before he had yielded to
its demands. He was in no mood to palliate his
offense. He no longer, in his thoughts, said “took."
He said “stole.”
He had reached his rooms at Derriby's and had
begun packing just about the time that Ladd, senior,
located his son on the telephone Jimmy was with
Eileen at her apartment. They promised to come
right down to the Ladd mansion.


XXXII
IMMY raced up-stairs ahead of Eileen. She en-
tered to find the young man seated on the arm
of the chair in which the elder sat, his hand gripping
the shrunken shoulder. She hid the expression of
relief that leaped to her face by turning away.
On receipt of his father's telephone-call, Jimmy
had become alarmed. Old man Ladd was the sort
who rarely make requests of their friends or family,
are never urgent, much less imperative. But he ..
imperative, and Jimmy could only think of his
father's health as a reason for the summoning of
Eileen, as well as himself, immediately to the Ladd
home.
Eileen's face was inquiringly friendly as she re-
turned the old gentleman's greeting.
"Just like you, Mr. Ladd,” she said, impudently.
"Always trying to keep me from capturing Jimmy.
I had him cornered in my apartment, a proposal on
the tip of his tongue--" The old gentleman
chuckled.
"Eileen, Eileen! When your granddaughter in-
troduces you to her fiancé, I wonder will you flirt
with him.” He turned his head and glanced up at
the smiling face of his son. “Tell me,” he said, with
mock severity, “what were you doing at Eileen's
321


UNEASY STREET
323
Her figure stiffened. She looked like a figure of
Wrath. Her chin, in its forward jutting, the sud-
denly tight line of the skin over the jaw-bone, the
slight flare of her nostrils—this was an Eileen El-
sing different from the Eileen that Jimmy had
known. Her eyes gleamed admiringly. Then he
turned upon his father.
"It's a bit thick, dad. Perhaps Rod has done
something that you don't approve, but- "
"He accused himself of stealing," said Ladd,
senior, tersely. “Want to hear about it, Eileen ?”
“I'd rather hear it from him," she answered.
There was scorn in her tone, but it was for Mr.
Ladd, not for the absent Baird. The old man smiled
queerly.
"Not much chance of that, my dear, I'm sorry
to say. It was because he was afraid to confess
to you that he came to me."
This was the first convincing statement, to
Eileen's way of thinking,—that Ladd had made.
Red had crept into her pale cheeks, but it crept
out now. The combativeness left her eyes, her jaws,
her mouth.
“What did he steal?” she demanded. She tried
to make her voice retain the scorn that had been
in it a moment ago. But that scorn had been nat-
ural then. Now it was forced, failed of effect, ren-
dered her tone harsh instead of cynical, doubting,
disbelieving.
“Something over two hundred thousand dollars,"
said the old man.
"From whom?" she asked.


324 UNEASY STREET
“Sam Blackmar."
“Where?”
“The Tramby Hotel on New Year's eve.” She
essayed a sniff. It sounded more like a sob.
“You've been listening to Sam,” she scoffed. The
old man shrugged.
“Blackmar's in bed to-day, isn't he? I haven't
seen him. My dear, why should I lie to you?”
She looked at him. He could see the tears slip-
ping down her cheeks, great drops.
“B-bec-cause everybody-be-c-cause h- " It
was true. There was no question about it. Rodney
had been here this morning, had confessed to the old
man, and-her tears vanished as quickly as they
had come, only telltale streaks on her cheeks and
a redness of the eyelids indicating their passage.
Into her eyes came that glint of hardness that
Jimmy Ladd had often seen in the past. “Tell me,”
she said.
Slowly, looking anywhere but at her, the old gen-
tleman repeated Baird's confession of an hour or so
ago. Silently she heard him through, seeming impa-
tient of Jimmy's frequent exclamatory and amazed
interruptions. Her mouth, which had been pugna-
cious, then pitiful, became almost sneering.
"It's an Elsing trick; we all do it,” she said, as
the old man finished.
Jimmy had left the arm of his father's chair.
Now he stopped his excited walking-up-and-down
the floor to gaze at her.
“An Elsing trick?” he asked.
“Making a mess of things,” she explained. "Fall-


UNEASY STREET
327
“Of course not !” exclaimed the elder Ladd. "It
simply happened that the thing he had done led
him into a situation that was unendurable. Black-
mar had tried to kill himself. Baird guessed why.
And he confessed to Blackmar and repaid him-not
all, but practically all.” Reluctantly Jimmy spoke.
“Game of him, I'll admit.”
“Oh something more than that,” insisted his
father. “Honest of him. Blackmar could prove
nothing."
“Honest? Depends, I'd say, on what honesty is,"
objected Jimmy.
“Who knows exactly? Pilate asked, "What is
truth?' I'd say it was honesty. But, then, I'm
older than you are, Jimmy."
“What difference does that make?” asked Jimmy
resentfully.
“You'll know soon enough,” replied his father.
“I'd like to know now,” said Jimmy.
"It's nothing much. Only—things seem so cer-
tain when one is young, Jimmy. Two and two make
four. We can prove it so easily that we jeer at
whoever denies it. It is only when we are old that
we ask, ‘But how do we know that two is two?' And
when we've asked that question, it occurs to us that
perhaps the answer to the sum of two and two may
be wrong because two isn't two.”
"It sounds jumbled to me, dad,” said Jimmy. His
father shrugged.
"Life becomes jumbled the more we live, Jimmy.
It's all so clear to youth. There are the rules.
Obey thong. Simple, eh? Yet, later, one asks not


UNEASY STREET
337
faces almost touched. She moved a step back, still
clinging to the chair.
“Well, Rod?"
“Did Jimmy—do you—mean that— " He
paused, helplessly.
“You know that I love you,” she said.
“I knew that you did.”
“Would I change overnight, do you think?" He
shrugged.
“But I'd changed. You wouldn't, but—I'm not
the man you thought I was."
“How do you know?” she demanded.
“Surely yesterday you didn't think me a thief,
Eileen ?"
“Certainly not; but—to say that you're not the
man I thought you were—what does that signify?
Do any of us remain stationary in the eyes of those
who know us? We must move."
“But to move backward!” She shook her head.
“To move backward and stay there! You didn't
do that, Rod.” He breathed heavily.
“That's—white of you, Eileen. But I have no
money, Eileen.”
“Perhaps I've moved, Rod."
His eyes were puzzled.
“I mean,” she explained, “that perhaps money
doesn't mean so much."
“You've inherited a fortune," he reminded her.
She colored angrily.
"Meaning, I suppose, that if I hadn't I'd not be
here, that I'd be making eyes at Jimmy Ladd per-





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