University of California Berkeley THE PETER AND ROSELL HARVEY MEMORIAL FUND OUT OF THE AIR BY INEZ HAYNES IRWIN NEW YORK HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY 1921 COPYRIGHT, I92O, 1921, BY METROPOLITAN PUBLICATIONS, INC. COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC. THE OUINN ft BODEN COMPANY RAHWAY, N. J. TO BILLY AND PHYLLIS OUT OF THE AIR ". ; . . so I'll answer your questions in the order you ask them. No, I don't want ever to fly again. My last pay-hop was two Saturdays ago and I got my discharge papers yesterday. God willing, I'll never again ride anything more dangerous than a velocipede. I'm now a respectable Ameri- can citizen, and for the future I'm going to con- fine my locomotion to the well-known earth. Get that, Spink Sparrel! The earth! In fact ..." David Lindsay suddenly looked up from his typewriting. Under his window, Washington Square simmered in the premature heat of an early June day. But he did not even glance in that direction. Instead, his eyes sought the door- way leading from the front room to the back of the apartment. Apparently he was not seeking inspiration; it was as though he had been sud- 3 4 OUT OF THE AIR denly jerked out of himself. After an absent second, his eye sank to the page and the brisk clatter of his machine began again. 4< . . . after the woman you recommended, Mrs. Whatever-her-name-is, shoveled off a few tons of dust. It's great! It's the key house of New York, isn't it? And when you look right through the Arch straight up Fifth Avenue, you feel as though you owned the whole town. And what an air all this chaste antique New England stuff gives it! Who'd ever thought you'd turn out you big rough-neck you to be a collector of antiques? Not that I haven't fallen myself for the sailor's chest and the butterfly table and the glass lamps. I actually salaam to that sampler. And these furnishings seem especially appropriate when I remember that Jeffrey Lewis lived here once. You don't know how much that adds to the connotation of this place." Again but absently Lindsay looked up. And again, ignoring Washington Square, which offered an effect as of a formal garden to the long pink-red palace on its north side plumy treetops, geometrical grass areas, weaving paths; OUT OF THE AIR 5 elegant little summer-houses his gaze went with a seeking look to the doorway. " Question No. 2. I haven't any plans of my own at present and I am quite eligible to the thing you suggest. You say that no one wants to read anything about the war. I don't blame them. I wish I could fall asleep for a month and wake up with no recollection of it. I suppose it's that state of mind which prevents people from writing their recollections immediately. Of course we'll all do that ultimately, I suppose even people who, like myself, aren't professional writers. Don't imagine that I'm going on with the writing game. I haven't the divine afflatus. I'm just let- ting myself drift along with these two jobs until I get that guerre out of my system; can look around to find what I really want to do. I'm willing to write my experiences within a reason- able interval; but not at once. Everything is as vivid in my mind of course as it's possible to be; but I don't want to have to think of it. That's why your suggestion in regard to Lutetia Murray strikes me so favorably. I should really like to do that biography. I'm in the mood for some- 6 OUT OF THE AIR thing gentle and pastoral. And then of course I have a sense of proprietorship in regard to Lutetia, not alone because she was my literary find or that it was my thesis on her which got me my A in English 12. But, in addition, I devel- oped a sort of platonic, long-distance, with-the- eye-of-the-mind-only crush on her. And yet, I don't know . . . " Again Lindsay's eyes came up from his paper. For the third time he ignored Washington Square swarming with lumbering green busses and dusky- haired Italian babies; puppies, perambulators, and pedestrians. Again his glance went mechani- cally to the door leading to the back of the apart- ment. " You certainly have left an atmosphere in this joint, Spink. Somehow I feel always as if you were in the room. How it would be possible for such a pop-eyed, freckle-faced Piute as you to pack an astral body is more than I can under- stand. It's here though that sense of your pres- ence. The other day I caught myself saying, * Oh, Spink ! ' to the empty air. But to return to Lutetia, I can't tell you how the prospect tempts. OUT OF THE AIR j Once on a permission in the spring of '16, I finds myself in Lyons. There are to be gentle acrobatic doings in the best Gallic manner in the Park on Sunday. I gallops out to see the sports. One place, I comes across several scores of poilus on their permissions similar squatting on the ground and doing what do you suppose ? Pick- ing violets. Yep picking violets. I says to my- self then, I says, ' These frogs sure are queer guys.' But now, Spink, I understand. I don't want to do anything more strenuous myself than picking violets, unless it's selling baby blankets, or holding yarn for old ladies. Perhaps by an enor- mous effort I might summon the energy to run a tea-room." Lindsay stopped his typewriting again. This time he stared fixedly at Washington Square. His eyes followed a pink-smocked, bob-haired maiden hurrying across the Park; but apparently she did not register. He turned abruptly with a " Hello, old top, what do you want? " The doorway, being empty, made no answer. Having apparently forgotten his remark the instant it was dropped, Lindsay went on writing. 8 OUT OF THE AIR " I admit I'm thinking over that proposition. 'Among my things in storage here, I have all Lutetia's works, including those unsuccessful and very rare pomes of hers; even that blooming thesis I wrote. The thesis would, of course, read rotten now, but it might provide data that would save research. When do you propose to bring out this new edition, and how do you account for that recent demand for her? Of course it estab- lishes me as some swell prophet. I always said she'd bob up again, you know. Then it looked as though she was as dead as the dodo. It isn't the work alone that appeals to me; it's doing it in Lutetia's own town, which is apparently the exact kind of dead little burg I'm looking for Quinanog, isn't it? Come to think of it, Spink, my favorite occupation at this moment would be making daisy-chains or oak-wreaths. I'll think it . . ." He jumped spasmodically; jerked his head about; glanced over his shoulder at the door- way " What I'd really like to do, is the biography of Lutetia for about one month ; then for about OUT OF THE AIR 9 three months my experiences at the war which, I understand, are to be put away in the manu- script safe of the publishing firm of Dunbar, Cabot and Elsingham to be published when the demand for war stuff begins again. That, I reckon, is what I should do if I'm going to do it at all. Write it while it's fresh as I'm not a professional. But I can't at this moment say yes, and I can't say no. I'd like to stay a little longer in New York. I'd like to renew acquaintance with the old burg. I can afford to thrash round a bit, you know, if I like. There's ten thousand dollars that my uncle left me, in the bank waiting me. When that's spent, of course I'll have to go to work. " You ask me for my impressions of America as a returned sky-warrior. Of course I've only been here a week and I haven't talked with so very many people yet. But everybody is remark- ably omniscient. I can't tell them anything about the late war. Sometimes they ask me a question, but they never listen to my answer. No, I listen to them. And they're very informing, believe me. Most of them think that the cavalry won the war TO OUT OF THE AIR and that we went over the top to the sound of fife and drum. For myself . . ." Again he jumped; turned his head; stared into the doorway. After an instant of apparent ex- pectancy, he sighed. He arose and, with an 'elaborate saunter, moved over to the mirror hang- ing above the mantel ; looked at his reflection with the air of one longing to see something human. The mirror was old; narrow and dim; gold framed. A gay little picture of a ship, bellying to full sail, filled the space above the looking-glass. The face, which contemplated him with the same unseeing carelessness with which he contemplated it, was the face of twenty-five handsome; dark. It was long and lean. The continuous flying of two years had dyed it a deep wine-red; had bronzed and burnished it. And apparently the experiences that went with that flying had cooled and hardened it. It was now but a smoothly handsome mask which blanked all expression of liis emotions. Even as his eye fixed itself on his own re- flected eye, his head jerked sideways again; he .stared expectantly at the open doorway. After OUT OF THE AIR n an interval in which nothing appeared, he sauntered through that door; and with almost an effect of premeditated carelessness through the two little rooms, which so uselessly fill the central space of many New York houses, to the big sunny bedroom at the back. The windows looked out on a paintable series of backyards: on a sketchable huddle of old, stained, leaning wooden houses. JU the opposite window, a purple-haired, violet-eyed foreign girl in a faded yellow blouse was making artificial nasturtiums; flame-colored velvet petals, like a drift of burning snow, heaped the table in front of her. A black cat sunned itself on the window ledge. On a distant roof, a boy with a long pole was herding a flock of pigeons. They made glit- tering swirls of motion and quick V-wheelings, that flashed the gray of their wings like blades and the white of their breasts like glass. Their sudden turns filled the air with mirrors. Lindsay watched their flight with the critical air of a rival. Suddenly he turned as though someone had called him; glanced inquiringly back at the door- way . . . 12 OUT OF THE AIR When, a few minutes later, he sauntered into the Rochambeau, immaculate in the old gray suit he had put off when he donned the French uni- form four years before, he was the pink of sum- mer coolness and the quintessence of military calm. The little, low-ceilinged series of rooms, just below the level of the street, were crowded; filled with smoke, talk, and laughter. Lindsay at length found a table, looked about him, discov- ered himself to be among strangers. He ordered a cocktail, swearing at the price to the sympathetic French waiter, who made excited response in French and assisted him to order an elaborate dinner. Lindsay propped his paper against his water-glass; concentrated on it as one prepared for lonely eating. With the little-necks, how- ever, came diversion. From behind the waiter's crooked arm appeared the satiny dark head of a girl. Lindsay leaped to his feet, held out his hand. " Good Lord, Gratia ! Where in the world did you come from ! " The girl put both her pretty hands out. " I can shake hands with you, David, now that you're in OUT OF THE AIR 13 civics. I don't like that green and yellow ribbon in your buttonhole though. I'm a pacifist, you know, and I've got to tell you where I stand be- fore we can talk." " All right," Lindsay accepted cheerfully. " You're a darn pretty pacifist, Gratia. Of course you don't know what you're talking about. But as long as you talk about anything, I'll listen." Gratia had cut her hair short, but she had introduced a style of hair-dressing new even to Greenwich Village. She combed its sleek abun- dance straight back to her neck and left it. There, followmg its own devices, it turned up in the most delightful curls. Her large dark eyes were set in a skin of pale amber and in the midst of a piquant assortment of features. She had a way, just before speaking, of lifting her sleek head high on the top of her slim neck. And then she was like a beautiful young seal emerging from the water. " Oh, I'm perfectly serious ! " the pretty paci- fist asserted. " You know I never have believed in war. Dora says you've come back loving the ;i 4 OUT OF THE AIR French. How you can admire a people who " After a while she paused to take breath and then, with the characteristic lift of her head, " Belgians the Congo Algeciras Morocco And as for England Ireland India Egypt " The glib, conventional patter dripped readily from her soft lips. Lindsay listened, apparently entranced. " Gratia, you're too pretty for any use ! " he asserted indulgently after the next pause in which she dove under the water and reappeared sleek- haired as ever. " I'm not going to argue with you. I'm going to tell you one thing that will be a shock to you, though. The French don't like war either. And the reason is now prepare yourself they know more about the horrors of war in one minute than you will in a thousand years. What are you doing with yourself, these days, Gratia? " " Oh, running a shop ; making smocks, working on batiks, painting, writing vers libre" Gratia admitted. " I mean, what do you do with your leisure? " Lindsay demanded, after prolonged meditation. OUT OF THE AIR 15 Gratia ignored this persiflage. u I'm thinking of taking up psycho-analysis," she confided. " It interests me enormously. I think I ought to do rather well with it." " I offer myself as your first victim. Why, you'll make millions! Every man in New York will want to be psyched. What's the news, Gratia? I'm dying for gossip." Gratia did her best to feed this appetite. De- ( clining dinner, she sipped the tall cool green drink which Lindsay ordered for her. She poured out a flood of talk; but all the time her eyes were flit- ting from table to table. And often she inter- rupted her comments on the absent with remarks about the present. * Yes, Aussie was killed in Italy, flying. Will Arden was wounded in the Argonne. George Jennings died of the flu in Paris see that big blonde over there, Dave ? She's the Village dress- maker now Dark Dale is in Russia can't get out. Putty Doane was taken prisoner by the Ger- mans at Oh, see that gang of up-towners aren't they snippy and patronizing and silly? But Molly Fearing is our best war sensation. You 1 6 OUT OF THE AIR know what a tiny frightened mouse of a thing she was. She went into the 4 Y.' She was in the trenches the day of the Armistice talked with Germans ; not prisoners, you understand but the retreating Germans. Her letters are wonderful. She's crazy about it over there. I wouldn't be surprised if she never came back Oh, Dave, don't look now; but as soon as you can v get that tall red-headed girl in the corner, Marie Maroo. She does the most marvelous drawings you ever saw. She belongs to that new Vortex School. And then Joel Oh, there's Ernestine Phillips and her father. You want to meet her father. He's a riot. Octogenarian, too ! He's just come from some remote hamlet in Vermont. Ernes- tine's showing him a properly expurgated edi- tion of the Village. Hi, Ernestine I He's a Civil War veteran. Ernest's crazy to see you, Dave!" The middle-aged, rather rough-featured woman standing in the doorway turned at Gratia's call. Her movement revealed the head and shoulders of a tall, gaunt, very old man, a little rough-featured like his daughter; white- OUT OF THE AIR 17 haired and white-mustached. She hurried at once to Lindsay's table. u Oh, Dave!" She took both Lindsay's hands. " I am glad to see you ! How I have worried about you ! My father, Dave. Father, this is David Lindsay, the young aviator I was telling you about, who had such extraordinary ex- periences in France. You remember the one I mean, father. He served for two years with the French Army before we declared war." Mr. Phillips extended a long arm which dangled a long hand. u Pleased to meet you, sir! You're the first flier I've had a chance to talk with. I expect folks make life a perfect misery to you but if you don't mind answering questions " "Shoot!" Lindsay permitted serenely. "I'm nearly bursting with suppressed information. How are you, Ernestine? " " Pretty frazzled like the rest of us," Ernestine answered. Ernestine had one fine feature; a pair of large dark serene eyes. Now they flamed with a troubled fire. u The war did all kinds of things to my psychology, of course. I suppose I am the most despised woman in the Village at this 1 8 OUT OF THE AIR moment because I don't seem to be either a mili- tarist or a pacifist. I don't believe in war, but I don't see how we could have kept out of it; or how France could have prevented it." " Ernestine I " Lindsay said warmly. " I just love you. Contrary to the generally accepted opinion of the pacifists, France did not deliber- ately bring this war on herself. Nor did she keep it up four years for her private amusement. She hasn't enjoyed one minute of it. I don't ex- pect Gratia to believe me, but perhaps you will. These four years of death, destruction, and dev- astation haven't entertained France a particle." " Well, of course " Ernestine was beginning, "but what's the use?" Her eyes met Lindsay's in a perplexed, comprehending stare. Lindsay shook his handsome head gayly. " No use what- ever," he said. " I'm rapidly growing taciturn." " What I would like to ask you," Mr. Phillips broke in, " does war seem such a pretty thing to you, young man, after you've seen a little of it? I remember in '65 most of us came back thinking that Sherman hadn't used strong enough lan- guage." OUT OF THE AIR 19 " Mr. Phillips," Lindsay answered, " if there's ever another war, it will take fifteen thousand dollars to send me a postcard telling me about it." The talk drifted away from the war: turned to prohibition; came back to it again. Lindsay answered Mr. Phillips's questions with enthusi- astic thoroughness. They pertained mainly to his training at Pau and Avord, but Lindsay volun- teered a detailed comparison of the American military method with the French. " I'll always be glad though," he concluded, " that I had that experience with the French Army. And of course when our troops got over, I was all ready to fly." '* Then the French uniform is so charming," Gratia put in, consciously sarcastic. Lindsay slapped her slim wrist indulgently and continued to answer Mr. Phillips's questions. Ernestine listened, the look of trouble growing in her serene eyes. Gratia listened, diving under water after her shocked exclamations and re- appearing glistening. "Oh, there's Matty Packington!" Gratia broke in. " You haven't met Matty yet, Dave. Hi, Matty! You must know Matty. She's a 20 OUT OF THE AIR sketch. She's one of those people who say the things other people only dare think. You won't believe her." She rattled one of her staccato explanations; " society girl first a slumming tour through the Village perfectly crazy about it studio in McDougal Alley yepwoman becom- ing uniform Rolls-Royce salutes " Matty Packington approached the table with a composed flutter. The two men arose. Gratia met her halfway; performed the introductions. In a minute the conversation was out of every- body's hands and in Miss Packington's. As Gratia prophesied, Lindsay found it difficult to believe her. She started at an extraordinary Speed and she maintained it without break. " Oh, Mr. Lindsay, aren't you heartbroken now that it is all over? You must tell me all about your experiences sometime. It must have been too thrilling for words. But don't you think don't you think they stopped the war too soon? If I were Foch I wouldn't have been satis- fied until I'd occupied all Germany, devastated just as much territory as those beasts devastated in France, and executed all those monsters who cut OUT OF THE AIR 21 off the Belgian babies' hands. Don't you think so?" Lindsay contemplated the lady who put this interesting question to him. She was fair and fairy-like; a little, light-shot golden blonde; all slim lines and opalescent colors. Her hair flut- tered like whirled light from under her piquantly cocked military cap. The stress of her emotion added for the instant to the bigness and blueness of her eyes. " Well, for myself," he remarked finally, " I can do with a little peace for a while. And then to carry out your wishes, Miss Packington, Foch would have had to sacrifice a quarter of a million more Allied soldiers. But I sometimes think the men at the front were a bit thoughtless of the entertainment of the civilians. Somehow we did get it into our heads that we ought to close this war up as soon as possible. Another time per- haps we'd know better." Miss Packington received this characteristi- cally; that is to say, she did not receive it at all. For by the time Lindsay had begun his last sentence, she had embarked on a monologue di- 22 OUT OF THE AIR rected this time to Gratia. The talk flew back and forth, grew general; grew concrete; grew ab- stract; grew personal. It bubbled up into mono- logues from Gratia and Matty. It thinned down to questions from Ernestine and Mr. Phillips. Drinks came ; were followed by other drinks. All about them, tables emptied and filled, uniforms predominating; and all to the accompaniment of chatter; gay mirth; drifting smoke-films and re- filled glasses. Late comers stopped to shake hands with Lindsay, to join the party for a drink; to smoke a cigarette; floated away to other parties. But the nucleus of their party remained the same. David answered with patience all questions, stopped patiently halfway through his own answer to reply to other questions. At about mid- night he rose abruptly. He had just brought to the end a careful and succinct statement in which he declared that he had seen no Belgian children with their hands cut off; no crucified Canadians. " Folks," he addressed the company genially, " I'm going to admit to you I'm tired." In- wardly he added, " I won't indicate which ones of you make me the most tired; but almost all of OUT OF THE AIR 23 you give me an awful pain." He added aloud, " It's the hay for me this instant Good-night! " Back once more in his rooms, he did not light up. Instead he sat at the window and gazed out. Straight ahead, two lines of golden beads curving up the Avenue seemed to connect the Arch with the distant horizon. The deep azure of the sky was faintly powdered with stars. But for its oc- casional lights, of a purplish silver, the Square would have been a mere mystery of trees. But those lights seemed to anchor what was half vision to earth. And they threw interlaced leaf shadows on the ceiling above Lindsay's head. It was as though he sat in some ghostly bower. Looking fixedly through the Arch, his face grew somber. Suddenly he jerked about and stared through the doorway which led into the back rooms. Nothing appeared After a while he lighted one gas jet after an instant's hesitation another In the middle of the night, Lindsay suddenly found himself sitting upright. His mouth was 24 OUT OF THE AIR wide open, parched; his eyes were wide open, staring ... A chilly prickling tingled along his scalp . . . But the strangest phenomenon was his heart, which, though swelled to an incredible bulk, nimbly leaped, heavily pounded . . . Lindsay recognized the motion which inundated him to be fear; overpowering, shameless, abject fear. But of what? In the instant in which he gave way to self-analysis, memory supplied him with a vague impression. Something had come to his bed and, leaning over, had stared into his face That something was not human. Lindsay fought for control. By an initial feat of courage, his fumbling fingers lighted a candle which stood on the tiny Sheraton table at his bed- side. On a second impulse, but only after an interval in which consciously but desperately he grasped at his vanishing manhood, he leaped out of bed; lighted the gas. Then carrying the lighted candle, he went from one to another of the four rooms of the apartment. In each room he lighted every gas jet until the place blazed. He searched it thoroughly: dark corners and OUT OF THE AIR 25 darker closets; jetty strata of shadow under couches. He was alone. After a while he went back to bed. But his courage was not equal to darkness again. Though ultimately he fell asleep, the gas blazed all night. Lindsay awoke rather jaded the next morning. He wandered from room to room submitting to one slash of his razor at this mirror and to an- other at that. At one period of this process, " Rum night- mare I had last night! " he remarked casually to the unresponsive air. He cooked his own breakfast; piled up the dishes and settled himself to his correspondence again. " This letter is getting to be a book, Spink," he began. " But I feel every moment as though I wanted to add more. I slept on your proposition last night, but I don't feel any nearer a decision. Quinanog and Lutetia tempt me ; but then so does New York. By the way, have you any pictures of Lutetia ? I had one in my rooms 26 OUT OF THE AIR at Holworthy. Must be kicking around among my things. I cut it out of the annual catalogue of your book-house. Photograph as I remember. She was some pip. I'd like " He started suddenly, turned his head toward the doorway leading to the back rooms. The doorway was empty. Lindsay arose from his chair, sauntered in a leisurely manner through the rooms. He investigated closets again. " Damn it all! " he muttered. He resumed his letter. " You're right about writing my experiences now. I had a long foot- less talk with some boobs last night, and it was curious how things came back under their ques- tions. I had quite forgotten them temporarily, and of course I shall forget them for keeps if I don't begin to put them down. I have a few scattered notes here and there. I meant, of course, to keep a diary, but believe me, a man engaged in a war is too busy for the pursuit of letters. But just as soon as I make up my mind" Another interval. Absently Lindsay addressed an envelope. Spinney K. Sparrel, Esq., Park OUT OF THE AIR 27 Street, Boston; attacked the list of other long- neglected correspondents. Suddenly his head jerked upward; pivoted again. After an in- stant's observation of the empty doorway, he pulled his face forward; resumed his work. Page after page slid onto the roller of his / machine, submitted to the tattoo of its little lettered teeth, emerged neatly inscribed. Suddenly he leaped to his feet; swung about. The doorway was empty. 4 Who are you?" he interrogated the empty air, " and what do you want? If you can tell me, speak and I'll do anything in my power to help you. But if you can't tell me, for God's sake go away! " That night it happened again. There came the same sudden start, stricken, panting, perspir- ing, out of deep sleep; the same frantic search of the apartment with all the lights burning; the same late, broken drowse; the same jaded awakening. As before, he set himself doggedly to work. And, as before, somewhere in the middle of the 28 OUT OF THE AIR morning, he wheeled about swiftly in his chair to glare through the open doorway. " I wonder if I'm going nutty! " he exclaimed aloud. Three days went by. Lindsay's nights were so broken that he took long naps in the afternoon. His days had turned into periods of idle revery. The letter to Spink Sparrel was still unfinished. He worked spasmodically at his typewriter: but he completed nothing. The third night he started toward the Rochambeau with the intention of getting a room. But halfway across the Park, he stopped and retraced his steps. " I can't let you beat me! " he muttered audibly, after he arrived in the empty apartment. It did not beat him that night; for he stayed in the apartment until dawn broke. But from mid- night on, he lay with every light in the place going. At sunrise, he dressed and went out for a walk. And the moment the sounds of everyday life began to humanize the neighborhood, he re- turned; sat down to his machine. " Spink, old dear, my mind is made up. I ac- cept! I'll do Lutetia for you; and, by God, I'll OUT OF THE AIR 29 do her well! I'm starting for Boston tomorrow night on the midnight. I'll call at the office about noon and we'll go to luncheon together. I'll dig out my thesis and books from storage, and if you'll get all your dope and data together, I can go right to it. I'm going to Quinanog tomorrow afternoon. I need a change. Everybody here makes me tired. The pacifists make me wild and the militarists make me wilder. Civilians is nuts when it comes to a war. The only person I can talk about it with is somebody who's been there. And anybody who's been there has the good sense not to want to talk about it. I don't ever want to hear of that war again. Personally, I, David Lindsay, meaning me, want to swing in a ham- mock on a pleasant, cool, vine-hung piazza ; read Lutetia at intervals and write some little pieces subsequent. Yours, David. 1 * II SUSANNAH AVER dragged herself out of her sleep- less night and started to get up. But halfway through her first rising motion, something seemed to leave her to leave her spirit rather than her body. She collapsed in a droop-shouldered huddle onto the bed. Her red hair had come out of its thick braids; it streamed forward over her white face; streaked her nightgown with glowing strands. She pushed it out of her eyes and sat for a long interval with her face in her hands. Finally she rose and went to the dresser. Haggardly she stared into the glass at her reflec- tion, and haggardly her reflection stared back at her. " I don't wonder you look different, Glori- ous Susie," she addressed herself wordlessly, " because you are different. I wonder if you can ever wash away that experience " She poured water into the basin until it almost brimmed; and dropped her face into it. After > 30 OUT OF THE AIR 31 her sponge bath, she contemplated herself again in the glass. Some color had crept into the pearly whiteness of her cheek. Her dark-fringed eyes seemed a little less shadow-encircled. She turned their turquoise glance to the picture of a woman a miniature painted on ivory which hung be- side the dfesser. " Glorious Lutie," she apostrophized it, " you don't know how I wish you were here. You don't know how much I need you now. I need you so much, Glorious Lutie I'm frightened!" The miniature, after the impersonal manner of pictures, made no response to this call for help. Susannah sighed deeply. And for a moment she stood a figure almost tragic, her eyes darkening as she looked into space, her young mouth setting its soft scarlet into hard lines. In another mo- ment she pulled herself out of this daze and con- tinued her dressing. An hour and a half later, when, cool and lithe in her blue linen suit, she entered the uptown sky- scraper which housed the Carbonado Mining 'Company, her spirits took a sudden leap. After all, here was help. It was not the help she mest 3 2 OUT OF THE AIR -desired and needed the confidence and advice of another woman but at least she would get in- stant sympathy, ultimate understanding. Anyone, however depressed his mood, must have felt his spirits rise as he stepped into the Admolian Building. It was so new that its terra- cotta walls without, its white-enameled tiling within, seemed always to have been freshly scrubbed and dusted. It was so high that, with a first acrobatic impulse, it leaped twenty stories above ground; and with a second, soared into a tower which touched the clouds. That had not exhausted its strength. It dug in below ground, and there spread out into rooms, eternally electric- lighted. From the eleventh story up, its wide windows surveyed every purlieu of Manhattan. Its spacious elevators seemed magically to defy gravitation. A touch started their swift flight heavenward; a touch started their soft drop earthward. Every floor housed offices where for- tunes were being made and lost at any rate, changing hands. There was an element of buoy- ancy in the air, an atmosphere of success. People moved more quickly, talked more briskly, from OUT OF THE AIR 33 the moment they entered the Admolian Building, As always, it raised the spirits of Susannah Ayer. The set look vanished from her eyes; some of their normal brilliancy flowed back into them. Her mouth relaxed When the elevator came to a padded halt at the eighteenth floor, she had become almost herself again. She stopped before the first in a series of offices. Black-printed letters on the ground glass of the door read: Carbonado Mining Company Private. Enter No. 4.7 An accommodating hand pointed in the direction? of No. 47. Susannah unlocked the door and with a little sigh, as of relief, stepped in. Other offices stretched along the line of the corridor, bearing the inscriptions, respectively, " No. 48, H. Withington Warner, President and General Manager; No. 49, Joseph Byan, Vice- President; No. 50, Michael O'Hearn, Secretary and Treasurer." Ultimately, Susannah's own 34 OUT OF THE AIR door would flaunt the proud motto, "No. 51, Susannah Ayer, Manager Women's Depart- ment." Susanah threaded the inner corridor to her own office. She hung up her hat and jacket; opened her mail; ran through it. Then she lifted the cover from her typewriter and began mechanically to brush and oil it. Her mind was not on her work; it had not been on the letters. It kept speeding back to last night. She did not want to think of last night again at least not until she must. She pulled her thoughts into her control; made them flow back over the past months. And as they sped in those pleasant channels, involun- tarily her mood went with them. Had any girl ever been so fortunate, she wondered. She put it to herself in simple declaratives Here she was, all alone in New York and in New York for the first time, settled interestingly and pleasantly settled. Eight months before, she had stepped out of business college without a hun- dred dollars in the world; her course in stenog- raphy, typewriting, and secretarial work had taken the last of her inherited funds. Without OUT OF THE AIR 35 kith or kin, she was a working-woman, now, on her own responsibility. Two months of appren- ticeship, one stenographer among fifty, in the great offices of the Maxwell Mills, and Barry Joyce, almost the sole remaining friend who re- membered the past glories of her family, had ad- vised her to try New York. " Susannah," he said, " now is the time to strike now while the men are away and while the girls are still on war jobs. Get yourself entrenched be- fore they come back. You've the makings of a wonderful office helper." Susannah, with a glorious sense of adventure once she was started, took his advice and moved to New York. For a week, she answered adver- tisements, visited offices; and she found that Barty was right. She had the refusal of half a dozen jobs. From them she selected the offer of the Carbonado Mining Company partly because she liked Mr. Warner, and partly because it seemed to offer the best future. Mr. Warner said to her in their first interview: :t We are looking for a clever woman whom we can specially train in the methods of our some- 36 OUT OF THE AIR what peculiar business. If you qualify, we shall advance you to a superior position." That u superior position " had fallen into her hand like a ripe peach. Within a week, Mr, Warner had called her into the private office for a long business talk. 14 Miss Ayer," he said, " you seem to be mak- ing good. I am going to tell you frankly that if you continue to meet our requirements, we shall continue to advance you and pay you accordingly. You see, our business " Mr. Warner's voice always swelled a little when he said " our busi- ness " " our business involves a great deal of letter-writing to women investors and some per- sonal interviews. Now we believe both Mr. Byan and I that women investing money like to deal with one of their own sex. We have been looking for just the right woman. A candidate for the position must have tact, understanding, and clearness of written expression. We have been trying to find such a woman; and frankly, the search has been difficult. You know how war work quite rightly, of course has monopo- lized the able women of the country. We have OUT OF THE AIR 37 tried out half a dozen girls; but the less said about them the better. For two weeks we will let you try your hand at correspondence with women investors. If your work is satisfactory, it means a permanent job at twice your present salary." Her work had pleased them! It had pleased them instantly. But oh, how she had worked to please them and to continue to please! Every letter she sent out and after explaining the Car- bonado Company and its attractions, Mr. Warner let her compose all the letters to women was a study in condensed and graceful expression. At the end of the fortnight Mr. Warner engaged her permanently. He went even further. He said : " Miss Ayer, we're going to make you manager of our women's department; and we're going to put your name with ours on the letterhead of the new office stationery." When the day came that she first signed herself " Susannah Ayer, Manager Women's Department," she felt as though all the fairy tales she ever read had come true. Susannah, as she was assured again and again^ continued to give satisfaction. No wonder; for 38 OUT OF THE AIR she liked her job. The work interested her so much that she always longed to get to the office in the morning, almost hated to leave it at night. It was a pleasant office, bright and spacious. Everything was new, even to the capacious waste basket. Her big, shiny mahogany desk stood close to the window. And from that window she surveyed the colorful, brick-and-stone West Side of Manhattan, the Hudson, and the city-spotted, town-dotted stretches beyond. The clouds hung close; sometimes their white and silver argosies seemed to besiege her. Once, she almost thought the new moon would bounce through her window. Snow noiselessly, winds tumultuously, assailed her; but she sat as impervious as though in an enchanted tower. Gray days made only a suaver magic, thunderstorms a madder enchantment, about her eyrie. The human surroundings were just as pleasant. Though the Carbonado Company worked only with selected clients, though they transacted most of their business by mail, there were many visitors some customers; others, apparently, merely friends of Mr. Warner, Mr. Byan, and Mr. OUT OF THE AIR 39 O'Hearn who dropped in of afternoons to chat a while. Pleasant, jolly men most of these. Snatches of their talk, usually enigmatic, floated to her across the tops of the partitions; it gave the office an exciting atmosphere of some- thing doing. And then it happened that Susan- nah's way of life had brought her into contact with but few men everything was so manny. She stood a little in awe of H. Withington Warner, president and general manager. Mr. Warner was middle-aged and iron-gray. That last adjective perfectly described him iron-gray. Everything about him was gray; his straight, thick hair; his clear, incisive eyes; even his color- less skin. And his personality had a quality of iron. There was about him a fascinating element of duality. Sometimes he seemed to Susannah a little like a clergyman. And sometimes he made her think of an actor. This histrionic aspect, she decided, was due to his hair, a bit long; to his features, floridly classic; to his manner, frequently courtly; to his voice, occasionally oratorical. This, however, showed only in his lighter mo- ments. Much of the time, of course, he was 40 OUT OF THE AIR merely brisk and businesslike. Whatever his tone, it carried you along. To Susannah, he was always charming. If she stood a little in awe of H. Withington Warner, she made up by feeling on terms of the utmost equality with Michael O'Hearn, secretary and treasurer of the Carbonado Mining Com- pany. Mr. O'Hearn the others called him 44 Mike " was a little Irishman. He had a short stumpy figure and a short stumpy face. Moreover, he looked as though someone had delivered him a denting blow in the middle of his profile. From this indenta- tion jutted in one direction his long, protuberant, rounded forehead; peaked in another his up- turned nose. The rest of him was sandy hair and sandy complexion, and an agreeable pair of long-lashed Irish eyes. He was the wit of the office, keeping everyone in constant good temper. Susannah felt very friendly toward Mr. O'Hearn. This was strange, because he rarely spoke to her. But somehow, for all that, he had the gift of seeming friendly. Susannah trusted him as she trusted Mr. Warner, though in a different way. OUT OF THE AIR 41 In regard to Joseph Byan, the third member of the combination, Susannah had her unformu- lated reservations. Perhaps it was because Byan really interested her more than the other two. Byan was little and slender; perfectly formed and rather fine-featured; swift as a cat in his darting movements. In his blue eyes shone a look of vague pathos and on his lips floated Susannah decided that this was the only way to express it a vague, a rather sweet smile. Susannah's job had not at first brought her as much into contact with Mr. Byan as with Mr. Warner. His work, she learned, lay mostly outside of the office. But once, during her third week, he had come into her office and dictated a letter; had lingered, when he had finished with the business in hand, for a little talk. The conversation, in some curious turn, veered to the subject of firearms. He was speak- ing of the various patterns of revolvers. He stood before her, a slim, perfectly proportioned figure whose clothes, of an almost feminine nicety and cut, seemed to follow every line of the body beneath. Suddenly, one of his slight hands made a swift gesture. There appeared from where, 42 OUT OF THE AIR she could not guess a little, ugly-looking black revolver. With it, he illustrated his point. Since, he had never passed through the office with- out Susannah's glance playing over him like a flame. Nowhere along the smooth lines of his figure could she catch the bulge of that little toy of death. Despite his suave gentleness, there was a believable quality about Byan; his personality carried conviction, just as did that of the others. Susannah trusted him, too ; but again in a different way. On the very day when Mr. Byan showed her the revolver, she was passing the open door of Mr. Warner's office; and she heard the full, round voice of the Chief saying: " Remember, Joe, rule number one : no clients or employ " Byan hastily closed the door on the tail of that sentence. Sometimes she won- dered how it ended. A cog in the machine, Susannah had never fully understood the business. That was not really necessary; Mr. Warner himself kept her in- formed on what she needed to know. He ex- plained in the beginning the glorious opportunity OUT OF THE AIR 43 for investors. From time to time, he added new 'details, as for example the glowing reports of their chief engineer or their special expert. Susannah knew that they were paying three per cent dividends a month and in April there was a special dividend of two per cent. Besides, they were about to break into a " mother lode " the reports of their experts proved that and when that happened, no one could tell just how high the dividends might be. True, these dividend pay- ments were often made a little irregularly. One of the things which Susannah did not understand, did not try to understand, was why a certain list of preferred stockholders was now and then given an extra dividend; nor why at times Mr. Warner would transfer a name from one list to another. " I'm thinking of saving my money and invest- ing myself in Carbonado stock!" said Susannah to Mr. Warner one day. "Don't," said Mr. Warner; and then with a touch of his clerical manner: " We prefer to keep our office force and our investors entirely sepa- rate factors for the present. We are trying to avoid the reproach of letting our people in on the 44 OUT OF THE AIR ground floor. When our ship comes in when we open the mother lode you shall be taken care of!" So, for six months, everything went perfectly. Susannah had absorbed herself completely in her job. This was an easy thing to do when the business was so fascinating. She had gone for five months at this pace when she realized that she had not taken the leisure to make friends. Except the three partners mere shadows to her and the people at her boarding-house also mere shadows to her she knew only Eloise. Not that the friendship of Eloise was a thing to pass over lightly. Eloise was a host in herself. They had met at the Dorothy Dorr, a semi- tharitable home for young business women, at which Susannah stayed during her first week in New York. Eloise was an heiress, of that species known to the newspapers as a " society girl." Pretty, piquant, gay, extravagant, she dabbled in picturesque charities, and the Dorothy Dorr was her pet. Sometimes in the summer, when she ran up to town, she even lodged there. By natural affinity, she had picked Susannah out of the crowd. OUT OF THE AIR 45 By the time Susannah was established in her new job and had moved to a boarding-house, they had become friends. But the friendship of Eloise could not be very satisfactory. She was too busy; and, indeed, too often out of town. From her social fastnesses, she made sudden, dashing forays on Susannah; took her to luncheon, dinner, or the theater; then she would retreat to upper Fifth Avenue, and Susannah would not see her for a fortnight or a month. Then, that terrible, perplexing yesterday. If she could only expunge yesterday from her life or at least from her memory ! Of course, there were events leading up to yes- terday. Chief among them was the appearance in the office, some weeks before, of Mr. Ozias Cowler, from Iowa. Mr. Cowler, Susannah gath- ered from the manner of the office, was a customer of importance. He was middle-aged. No, why mince matters he was an old man who looked middle-aged. He was old, because his hair had gone quite white, and his face had fallen into areas broken by wrinkles. But he appeared to the first glance middle-aged, because the skin of those 46 OUT OF THE AIR areas was ruddy and warm; because his eyes were as clear and blue as in youth. He looked well, Susannah decided that he looked fatherly. He was quiet in his step and quiet in his manner. Though he appeared to her in the light of a cus- tomer rather than that of an acquaintance, Susannah was inclined to like him, as she liked everyone and everything about the Carbonado offices. Susannah gathered in time that Mr. Cowler had a great deal of money, and that he had come to New York to invest it. Of course the Carbon- ado Mining Company and this included Susan- nah herself saw the best of reasons why it should be invested with them. But evidently, he was a hard, cautious customer. He came again and again. He sat closeted for long intervals with Mr. Warner. Sometimes Mr. Byan came into these conferences. Mr. Cowler was always going to luncheon with the one and to dinner with the other. He even went to a baseball game with Mr. O'Hearn. But, although he visited the office more and more frequently, she gathered that the investment was not forthcoming. Susannah OUT OF THE AIR 47 knew how frequently he was coming because, in spite of the little, admonitory black hand on the ground-glass door, he always entered, not by the reception room, but by her office. Usually, he pre- ceded his long talk with Mr. Warner by a little chat with her. Evidently, he had not yet caught the quick gait of New York business; for as he left again through Susannah's office he would stop for a longer talk. Once or twice, Susannah had to excuse herself in order to go on with her work. She had been a little afraid that Mr. Warner would comment on these delays in office routine. But, although Mr. Warner once or twice glanced into her office during these intervals, he never interfered. Then came yesterday. Early in the morning, Mr. Warner said : " Miss Ayer, I wonder if you can do a favor for us?" He went on, without waiting for Susannah's answer: " Cowler you know what a helpless person he is wants to go to dinner and the theater tonight. It happens that none of us can accompany him. We've all made the kind of engagement which can't be broken business. 48 OUT OF THE AIR He feels a little self-conscious. You know, his money came to him late, and he has never been to a big city before. I suspect he is afraid to enter a fashionable restaurant alone. He wants to go to Sherry's and to the theater afterward " Mr. Warner paused to smile genially. " He's something of a hick, you know, and especially in regard to this Sherry and midnight cabaret stuff." Mr. Warner rarely used slang; and when he did, his smile seemed to put it into quotation marks. '* True to type, he has bought tickets in the front row. After the show, he wants to go to one of the midnight cabarets. Would you be willing to steer him through all this? The show is Let's Beat It." Susannah expressed herself as delighted; and indeed she was. To herself she admitted that Mr. Cowler was no more of a " hick " in regard to Broadway, Sherry's, and midnight cabarets than she herself. But about admitting this, she had all the self-consciousness of the newly arrived New Yorker. " That is very good of you, Miss Ayer," said Mr. Warner, appearing much relieved. " You OUT OF THE AIR 49 may go home this afternoon an hour earlier." Again Mr. Warner passed from his incisive, gray- hued sobriety to an expansive geniality. " I know that in these circumstances, ladies like to take time over their toilettes." He smiled at Susannah, a 'smile more expansive than any she had ever seen on his face; it showed to the back molars his handsome, white, regular teeth. Mr. Cowler called for her in a taxicab at seven and She heard Mr. Warner's door open and shut. Footsteps sounded in the corridor that was Mr. O'Hearn's voice. She glanced at her wrist-watch. Half-past nine. The partners had arrived early this morning, of all mornings. They were night birds, all three, seldom appearing before half-past ten, and often working in the office late after she had gone. Susannah stopped mid-sentence a letter which she was tapping out to a widow in Iowa, rose, moved toward the door. At the threshold, she stopped, a deep blush suffusing her face. So she paused for a moment, irresolute. When finally she started down the corridor, Mr. 50 OUT OF THE AIR Warner emerged from the door of his own office, met her face to face. And as his eyes rested on hers, she was puzzled by the expression on his smooth countenance. Was it anxiety? His ex- pression seemed to question her then it flowed into his cordial smile. Susannah was first to speak: " Good-morning, Mr. Warner. May I see you alone for a moment?" "Certainly!" With his best courtliness of manner, he bowed her into his private office. " Won't you have a seat? " Susannah sat down. " It's about about Mr. Cowler and last night." She paused. " Oh," asked Mr. Warner, carelessly, casually, " did you have a pleasant evening? " " It's about that I wanted to talk with you," Susannah faltered. Suddenly, her embarrassment broke, and she became perfectly composed. " Mr. Warner, I dislike to tell you all this, be- cause I know how it will shock you to hear it. But you will understand that I have no choice in the matter. It is very hard to speak of, and I OUT OF THE AIR 51 don't know exactly how to express it, but, Mr. Warner, Mr. Cowler insulted me grossly last evening ... so grossly that I left the table where we were eating after the theater and . . . and . . . well, perhaps you can guess my state of mind when I tell you that 1 was actually afraid to take a taxi. Of course, I see now how foolish that was. But I ... I ran all the way home." For an instant, Mr. Warner's fine, incisive geniality did not change. Then suddenly it broke into a look of sympathetic understanding. " I am sorry, Miss Ayer," he declared gravely, " I am indeed sorry." His clergyman. aspect was for the moment in the ascendent. He might have been talking from the pulpit. His voice took its ora- torical tone. " It seems incredible that men should do such things incredible. But one must, I suppose, make allowances. A rural type alone in a great city and surrounded by all the intoxi- cating aspects of that city. It undoubtedly un- balanced him. Moreover, Miss Ayer, I may say without flattery that you are more than attrac- tive. And then, he is unaccustomed to drink- ing" 52 OUT OF THE AIR u Oh, he had not drunk anything to speak of," Susannah interrupted. " A little claret at dinner. He had ordered champagne, but this . . . this episode occurred before it came." " Incredible ! " again murmured Mr. Warner. 41 Inexplicable ! " he added. He paused for a moment. " You wish me to see that he apolo- gizes?" u I don't ask that. I am only telling you so that you may understand why I can never speak to him again. For of course I don't want to see him as long as I live. I thought perhaps . . . that if he comes here again . . . you might manage so that he doesn't enter through my office." " We can probably manage that," Mr. Warner agreed urbanely. " Of course we can manage that. He is, you see, a prospective client, and a very profitable one. We must continue to do busi- ness with him as usual." " Oh, of course ! " gasped Susannah. " Please ilon't think I'm trying to interfere with your business. I understand perfectly. It is only that I but of course you understand. I don't want OUT OF THE AIR 53 to see him again." She rose. Her lithe figure came up to the last inch of its height; the attitude gave her the effect of a column. Her head was like a glowing alabaster lamp set at the top of that column. All the trouble had faded out of her face. The set, scarlet lines in her mouth had melted to their normal scarlet curves. The light had come bacl^ in a brilliant flood to her turquoise eyes. In this uprush of spirit, her red hair seemed even to bristle and to glisten. She sparkled visibly. " And now, I guess I'll get back to work," she said. " Oh, by the way, I found in my mail this morning a letter addressed, not to the women's department, but to the firm. I opened it, but of course by accident." Mr. Warner drew the letter from its envelope, began casually running through it. The conver- sation seemed now to be ended; Susannah moved toward the door. From his perusal of the letter, Mr. Warner stabbed at her back with one quick, alarmed glance, and: " Oh, Miss Ayer, don't go yet," he said. His tone was a little tense and sharp. But he con- tinued to peruse the letter. As he finished the last 54 OUT OF THE AIR page, he looked up. Again, his tone seemed pe- culiar; and he hesitated before he spoke. 11 Er did you make out the signature on this?" he asked. " No it puzzled me," replied Susannah. " Sit down again, please," said Mr. Warner. Now his manner had that accent of suavity, that velvety actor quality, which usually he reserved solely for women clients. " I'm awfully sorry, but I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to see Mr. Cowler again." " Mr. Warner, I ... I simply could not do that. I can never speak to him again. You don't know . . . You can't guess . . . Why, I could scarcely tell my own mother . . . if I had one ..." " It seems quite shocking to you, of course, and Wait a moment " Mr. Warner rose and walked toward the door leading to Byan's office. But he seemed suddenly to change his mind. " I know exactly how you must feel," he said, returning. " Believe me, my dear V oun g lady, I enter perfectly into your emotions. Shocked susceptibilities ! Wounded pride ! All OUT OF THE AIR 55 perfectly natural, even exemplary. But, Miss Ayer, this is a strange world. And in some aspects a very unsatisfactory one. We have to put up with many things we don't like. I, for instance. You could not guess the many disagree- able experiences to which I submit daily. I hate them as much as anyone, but business compels me to endure them. Now you, in your position as manager of the Women's Department " " Nothing," Susannah interrupted steadily, " could induce me knowingly to submit again to what happened last night. I would rather throw up my job. I would rather die." ** But, my dear Miss Ayer, you are not the only young lady in this city who has been through such experiences. If women will invade industry, they must take the consequences. Actresses, shopgirls, woman-buyers accept these things as a matter of course as all in the day's work. Indeed, many stenographers complain of unpleasant experi- ences. You have been exceedingly fortunate. Have we not in this office paid you every pos- sible respect? " u Of course you have ! It is because you have 56 OUT OF THE AIR been so kind that I came to you at once, hoping . . . believing . . . that you would under- stand. It never occurred to me that you ..." " Of course I understand," Mr. Warner iiv sisted, in his most soothing tone. " It's all very dreadful. What I am trying to point out to you is that whatever you do or wherever you go in a great city, the same thing is likely to happen. I am trying to prove to you that you are especially protected here. You like your work, don't you? " " I love it! " Susannah protested with fervor. " Then I think you will do well to ignore the incident. Come, my child," Mr. Warner was now a combination of guiding pastor and admon- ishing parent, " forget this deplorable incident. When Mr. Cowler comes in this afternoon, meet him as though nothing had happened. Un- doubtedly he is now bitterly regretting his mis- take. Unquestionably he will apologize. And the next time he asks you to go out with him, he will have learned how to treat a young lady so admirable and estimable, and you can accept his invitation with an untroubled spirit." " If I meet Mr. Cowler I will treat him exactly OUT OF THE AIR 57 as though nothing had happened," Susannah de- clared steadily. " I mean that upon meeting him I will bow. I will even if you ask it give him any information he may want about the business. But as to going anywhere with him again I must decline absolutely." " But that is one of the services which we shall have to demand from time to time. Clients come to town. They want an attractive young lady, a lady who will be a credit to them a description which, I may say, perfectly applies to you to ac- company them about the city. That will be a part of your duties in future. Had the occasion arisen before, it would have been a part of your duties in the past. If Mr. Cowler asks you again to accompany him for the evening, we shall ex- pect you to go." 4 You never told me," said Susannah after a perceptible interval, during which directly and piercingly she met Mr. Warner's gentle gaze, " that you expected this sort of thing." " My dear young lady," replied Mr. Warner with a kind of bland elegance, " I am very sorry if I did not make that clear." 58 OUT OF THE AIR " Then/' said Susannah so unexpectedly that it was unexpected even to herself " I shall have to give up my position. Please look for another secretary. I shall consider it a favor if you get her as soon as possible." Another pause; and then Mr. Warner asked: " Would you mind waiting here for just a few moments before you make that decision final? " " I will wait," agreed Susannah. " But I will not change my decision." Mr. Warner did not seem at all surprised or annoyed. He arose abruptly, started toward Byan's office. This time he entered and closed the door behind him. A moment later, Susannah realized from the muffled sounds which filtered through the partition that the partners were in conference. She caught the velvety tones of Byan; O'Hearn's soft lilt. And as she sat there, idly tapping the desk with a penholder, something among the memories of that confused morning crept into her mind; spread until it blotted out even the memory of Mr. Cowler. That letter what did it mean? In her listless, inattentive state of mind, she had opened it carelessly, read OUT OF THE AIR 59 it through before she realized that it was ad- dressed not to the Women's Department, but to the company. Had anyone asked her, a moment after she laid it down, just what it said, she could not have answered. Now, her perplexed loneli- ness brought it all out on the tablets of her mind as the chemical brings out the picture from the blankness of a photographic plate. She glanced at the desk. The letter was not there Mr. Warner had taken it with him. The man with the illegible signature wrote from Nevada. He had seen, during a visit to Kansas City, the circulars of the Carbonado Min- ing Company. After his return, he had passed through Carbonado. " I wondered, when I saw your literature, whether there had been a new strike in that busted camp," he wrote. " There hadn't. Carbonado now consists of one store- keeper and a few retired prospectors who are try- ing to scrape something from the corners of the old Buffalo Boy property. That camp was worked out in the eighties and it was never much but promises at that." As for the photo- graphs which decorated the Carbonado Com- 6o OUT OF THE AIR pany's circulars, this man recognized at least one of them as a picture of a property he knew in iUtah. Finally, he asked sarcastically just how long they expected to keep up the graft. " It's the old game, isn't it?" he inquired, " pay three per cent for a while and then get out with the capital." Three per cent a month that was exactly what the Carbonado Company was pay- ing. She wondered Conjecture for Susannah would have been cer- tainty could she have heard the conversation just the other side of that closed door. At the mo- ment when the contents of this letter flashed back into her mind, the letter itself lay on Mr. Byan's polished mahogany table. Beside it lay a pile of penciled memoranda through which fluttered from time to time the nervous hand of H. Withington Warner. Susannah would scarcely have known her genial employer. The mask of actor and clergyman had slipped from his face. His cheeks seemed to fall flat and flabby. His eyes had lost their benevolence. His mouth was set as hard as a trap, the corners drooping. Across the table from him, too, sat a transformed Byan. His OUT OF THE AIR 61 smooth, regular features had sharpened to the likeness of a rat's. His voice, however, was still velvety; even though it had just flung at Warner a string of oaths. u I told you we ought to've let go and skipped six weeks ago," he said, " that was the time for the touch-off. Secret Service still chasin' Heinies everythin' coming in and nothin' going out. The suckers had already stopped biting and then you go and hand out two more monthly dividends and settle all the bills like you intended to stay in business forever. What did we want with this royal suite here, and ours a correspondence game ? What do we split if we stop today? Twelve hun- dred dollars. Twelve hundred dollars ! We land this Cowler see ! " Warner, unperturbed, swept his glance to O'Hearn, who sat huddled up in his chair, search- ing with his glance now one of his partners, now the other. ** Mike," he said, u you're certain about your tip on the fly cops? " "Dead sure!" responded O'Hearn. " The regular bulls ain't touching mining operations just 62 OUT OF THE AIR now. It's up to the Secret Service. In two weeks more they'll be all cleaned up on the war, and then they'll be reorganizing their little committee on high finance. That there Inspector Laughlin will take charge. He knows you, Boss. Then " O'Hearn spread his hands with a gesture of finality " about a week more and they'll get round to us. Three weeks is all we're safe to go. They stop our mail and then the pinch maybe. The tip's straight from you-know-who. The pinch see ! " At the repetition of that word " pinch," Ryan's countenance changed subtly. It was as though he had winced within. But he spoke in his usual velvety tone. " Less than three weeks h'm ! How much is Cowler good for? " " About a hundred thou' big or nothing," replied Warner. He was drawing stars and circles on the desk blotter. " He can't be landed without the girl. If he'd tumbled for the Lizzies you shook at him but he didn't it's this red- headed doll in our office or nothing. And I've told you " OUT OF THE AIR 63 Here O'Hearn threw himself abruptly into the conversation. " Lave out th' girrul," he said. Usually O'Hearn's Irish showed in his speech only by a slight twist at the turn of his tongue. Now it reverted to a thick brogue. " I'll not have any- thin' to do " " We'll leave in or take out exactly what I say," put in Warner smoothly. " Exactly what I say," he repeated. At this direct thrust, Byan lifted his somewhat dreamy eyes. He dropped them again. Then Warner, his gaze directly on O'Hearn's face, made a swift, sinister gesture. He drew a forefinger round his own throat, and completed the motion by pointing directly up- ward. O'Hearn, his face suddenly going a little pale, subsided. Warner broke into the sweet, Christian smile of his office manner. Subtly, he seemed to take command. His personality filled the room as he leaned forward over the table and summed everything up. " As for your noise about quitting six weeks ago," he said, " how was I to know that the suckers were going to stop running? We looked 64 OUT OF THE AIR good for three months then. We've got three weeks to go. All right. As for the pinch, they won't get us unless the wad gives out. Every stage of this game has been submitted to a lawyer. We're just a hair inside but inside all the same. But if we can't come through liberally to him when we're really in trouble, we might as well measure ourselves for stripes. He's that kind of lawyer. With a hundred thousand dollars " lie seemed to roll that phrase under his tongue " we can stay and make snoots at the Secret Serv- ice or beat it elsewhere, just as we please. Ozias Cowler can furnish the hundred thou'. But he'll take only one bait. I've tried 'em all flies, worms, beetles, and grasshoppers and there's only one. And that one is trying to wriggle off the hook. I thought last night when I sent her out with him that maybe she would fall for him. The rest would have been easy. But she only worked up a case of this here maidenly virtue. On top of that, she reads this letter. Of course, she has read it, though she don't know I know. I squeezed that out of her. " There," concluded Warner, " that's the lay- OUT OF THE AIR 65 out, isn't it? " He turned to Byan; and his smil- ing, office manner came over his expression. " What would you say, Joe? You're by way of being an expert on this kind of bait." In the Carbonado Mining Company, Warner ruled partly through his quality of personal force, but partly through fear, the cement of underworld society. Just as he shook at O'Hearn from time to time the threat conveyed by that sinister ges- ture, he held over Byan the knowledge of that trade and traffic, shameful even among criminals, from which Byan had risen to be a pander of low finance. At this thrust, however, Byan did not pale, as had O'Hearn. His expression became only the more inscrutable. * You should have let me break her in when I wanted to, months ago," he said. u I'd 'a' had her ready now. He won't fall for anyone else. I've offered those other Molls to him, but he's crushed on her and won't look at anybody else. So we've got to put the screws on her. They're all cowards inside yellow every one." " Meaning?" inquired Warner. " She's in it up to her neck with us," said Byan. 66 OUT OF THE AIR " We saw to that. All right. If we should go up against it, she'd have a hell of a time proving to a jury that she didn't know what her letters to customers were all about. Now wouldn't she? Ask -yourself. Looked like hard luck to me when she saw that letter just when she'd slapped the face of this Cowler. But maybe it's a regular godsend. Put it to her straight that this business is a graft, that we're due to go up against it in three weeks unless something nice happens, and that she's in it as deep as any of us. When she's so scared she can't see, let her know that she has got one way out fall for Cowler and help us touch him for his hundred thousand. Make her think that it's the stir sure if she don't, and a clean getaway if she does." " Suppose," continued Warner in the manner of one weighing every chance, " she goes with her troubles to some wise guy? " " She's got no friends here," said Byan. " I looked into that. Runs around with one fluff, but she don't count. If she's scared enough, I tell you, she'll never dare peep and she'll come round." OUT OF THE AIR 67 " Suppose she beats it? " suggested Warner. " Well, Mike and I can shadow her, can't we? " replied Byan. " If she tries to get out by rail, we can stop her and put on the screws right away. The screws ! " repeated Byan, as "one who liked the idea. " And if she does hold out a while, nothin's lost. You've got the old dope worked up to the idea she's interested in him, haven't you? Well, if she don't fall right away, you can take a little time explaining to him why she acted that way last night. Maybe best to dangle her a while, anyway get him so anxious to see her that he'll fall for anything when you bring her round. I'll be tightening up the screws, and when he's ripe I'll deliver her." " The screws," repeated O'Hearn. " Mean- in'?" " Leave that to me," said Byan. " I know how." Warner smiled; but it was not the genial beam of his office manner. For when the corners of his drooping mouth lifted, they showed merely a gleam of canine teeth, which lay on his lip like fangs. 68 OUT OF THE AIR " I suppose, when it's over, she's your personal property," he concluded. " Oh, sure ! " responded Byan carelessly. " You'll not " began O'Hearn; but this time it was Warner who interrupted. " Mickey," he said, " any arrangements be- tween this lady and Byan are their own private affair after the touch-off, which may stand you twenty-five thousand shiners. Besides " He did not make his threatening gesture now, but merely flashed that smile of fangs and sinister suggestion. Then he rose. u All right," he said. " Come on all of you and I'll give her that little business talk, before she's had time to think and work up an- other notion. Maybe she'll fall for it right away." " Not right away, she won't," Byan promul- gated from the depths of his experience, " but be- fore I'm through, she will." The three men came filing into the room where Susannah sat, her elbows on the desk, her chin on her hands. She rose abruptly and faced them. OUT OF THE AIR 69 eyes wide, lips parted. Mr. Warner wore his office manner; his smile was now benevo- lent. " I have been telling Mr. Byan and Mr. O'Hearn about your experience and your de- cision, Miss Ayer," began Mr. Warner. Susannah blushed deeply; and for an instant her lashes swept over a sudden stern flame in her eyes. Then she lifted them and looked with a noncommittal openness from one face to the other. " I think I have nothing to add," she said. 1 Yes, but perhaps we have," Mr. Warner in- formed her gently. " Sit down, Miss Ayer. Sit down, boys." The three men seated themselves. " Thank you," said Susannah; but she continued to stand. Byan rose thereupon, and stood lolling in the cor- ner, his vague smile floating on his lips. O'Hearn dropped his chin almost to that point on his chest where his folded arms rested. His lips drooped. Occasionally he studied the situation from under his protuberant forehead. " Miss Ayer," Warner went on after a pause, 70 OUT OF THE AIR " you read that letter the one you handed to me this mornirrg? " Susannah hesitated for an almost imperceptible moment. " Yes," she admitted, " entirely by mis- take." " I am going to tell you something that it will surprise you to hear, Miss Ayer. What this fellow says is all true. Carbonado is merely a a convenient name, let us say. In other words, we are engaged in selling fake stocks to suckers. To be still more explicit, we are conducting a criminal business. We could be arrested at any moment and sent to jail. To the Federal peni- tentiary, in fact. I suppose that is a great sur- prise to you? " Though she had guessed something of this ever since she recalled the contents of the letter, the cold-blooded statement came indeed with all the force of a surprise. Susannah's figure stiffened as though she had touched a live wire. The crimson flush drained out of her face. And she heard herself saying, as though in another's voice and far away, the inadequate words: " How per- fectly terrible ! " OUT OF THE AIR 71 " Exactly so ! " agreed Warner. " Only you haven't the remotest idea how terrible. Miss Ayer, this company you as well as the rest of us needs money and needs it right away. Ozias Cowler has money a great deal of money. Somebody's bound to get it and why not we? We use various means to get money out of suckers. There's only one way with Cowler. He's stuck on you. You can get it from him. We want you to do that we expect you to do that." Susannah stared at him. " Mr. Warner, I think you are crazy. I could no more do that ... I couldn't ... I wouldn't even know how . . . my resignation goes into effect im- mediately. I couldn't possibly stay here another minute." She turned to leave the office. " Just one moment!" Mr. Warner's words purled on. His tone was low, his accent bland but his voice stopped her instantly. " Miss Ayer, you don't understand yet. Unless we get some money a great deal of money we shan't last another two_ weeks. The situation is but I won't take the time to explain that. Unless we clean up that aforesaid mo$ey, we go to jail for 72 OUT OF THE AIR a good long term. If we get the money we don't. Never mind the details. I assure you it's true." " I'm sorry," said Susannah, her lips scarcely moving as she spoke, " but I fail to see what I have to do with that " " I was about to go on to say, Miss Ayer, that you have everything to do with it. You must be aware, if you look back over your service with us, that you are as much involved as anyone. Your name is on our letterhead. You have signed hun- dreds and perhaps thousands of letters to woman investors. Putting a disagreeable fact rather baldly, what happens to us happens to you. If it's the stir if it's jail for us, it's jail for you." Susannah stared at him. She grew rigid. But she roused herself to a trembling weak defense. " I'll tell them, if they arrest me ... all that has gone on here ..." she began. " If you do," put in Mr. Warner smoothly, " you only create for yourself an unfavorable im- pression. You put yourself in the position of going back on your pals, and it will not get you immunity. If Mr. Cowler comes through, you OUT OF THE AIR 73 are entitled to a share of the proceeds. Whether you take it or no is a matter for your private feelings. But the main point is that with Cowler in, this thing will be fixed, and without him in, you are in jail or a fugitive from justice. " He paused now and looked at Susannah paused not as one who pities but as one who asks himself if he has said enough. Susannah's face proved that he had. " Now of course you won't feel like working this morning. And I don't blame you. Go home and think it over. Your first instinct, probably, will be to see a lawyer. For your own sake, I advise you not to do that. For ours, I hope you do. If he tells you the truth, he will show you how deeply involved you are in this thing. No lawyer whom you can command will handle your case. What you'd better do is lie down and take a nap. Then at about five o'clock this afternoon, send for hot coffee and doll yourself up Mr. Cowler will call for you at seven." Susannah took part of Mr. Warner's advice. She went home immediately. But she did not take 74 OUT OF THE AIR a nap. Instead, she walked up and down her bed- room for an hour, thinking hard. She could think now; in her passage home on the Subway, her first wild panic had beaten its desperate black wings to quiet. What Warner had told her she now believed implicitly. She was as much caught in the trap as any one of the three crooks with whom she had been associated. The only dif- ference was that she did not mean to stay in the trap. She meant to escape. Also she did not mean to let it drive her from the city in which she was challenging success. She meant to stay in New York. She meant to escape. But how? If there were only somebody to whom she could go! She had in New York a few acquaintances but no real friends. Besides, she didn't want anybody to know ; all she wanted was to get away from to vanish from their sight. But where could she go when how? Fortunately she had plenty of money on hand, plenty at least for her immediate purposes. She owned a few pawnable things, though only a few. But at present what she needed, more even than money, was time. She must get away at once. OUT OF THE AIR 75 But again where ? For a moment resurgent panic tore her. Then common sense seemed to offer a solution. Here she was in the biggest city in the country; the biggest in the world. She had heard somewhere that a big city was the best place in the world to hide in. She would hide in New York. Then- She had forgotten one terrifying fact. Byan boarded in the same house. She realized why now. A fortnight before shortly after Mr. Cowler appeared in the office he had come to her for advice. He had given up one bachelor apartment, he said, and was tak- ing another. Repairs had become inevitable in the new apartment. He did not want to go to a hotel. Did she know of a good boarding-house in which to spend a month? She did, of course j her own. Byan came there the next day; al- though, curiously enough, she saw but little of him. They had separate tables, and his meal- hours and hers were different. Byan usually came in at about six o'clock. But today he might follow her. She must work quickly. 76 OUT OF THE AIR She pulled her trunk out from under the bed and began in frenzied haste to pack it. Down came all the pictures from her walls. Into the trunk went most of her clothes ; some of her toilet articles; her half-dozen books; her stationery; all her slender Lares and Penates. When she had finished with her trunk, she packed her suitcase. As many thin dresses as she could crush in in- consequent necessities her storm boots; her tooth-brush Then she wrote a note to her landlady. It read: "Dear Mrs. Ray: I have been suddenly called away from