WELLS 
 HASTINGS
 
 She drew back with something like a sob
 
 THE MAN IN THE 
 BROWN DERBY 
 
 By 
 
 WELLS HASTINGS 
 
 AUTHOR WITH BRIAN HOOKER OF THE PROFESSOR'S MYSTERY 
 
 WTTH ^LUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 HERMAN PFEIFER 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT 1911 
 THE BOBBS- MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. V.
 
 TO ELISABETH 
 
 SOME there be to whom the things of earth 
 are plain, and some to whom heaven, which 
 is of course about us, is revealed; and a 
 certain few, who, because their faith is like a 
 crystal, can see the little people dance o' midsum- 
 mer nights. You by mind and spirit and heart 
 walk sweetly and at will in the three worlds and 
 make the three thrice blessed. Will you lend 
 some benison to this tale this old-fashioned tale 
 of nowadays of gallant deeds and cunning villain- 
 ies of strong men and fair women of dark 
 mystery and the world-old call of love.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 i 
 
 ii 
 in 
 
 IV 
 
 v 
 
 VI 
 
 VII 
 
 VIII 
 
 IX 
 
 X 
 
 XI 
 
 XII 
 
 XIII 
 
 XIV 
 
 XV 
 
 XVI 
 
 XVII 
 
 XVIII 
 
 XIX 
 
 XX 
 
 XXI 
 
 XXII 
 
 XXIII 
 
 XXIV 
 
 XXV 
 
 XXVI 
 
 XXVII 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 XXIX 
 
 XXX 
 
 XXXI 
 
 PACK 
 
 THE PERSONAL i 
 
 THE APPLICANTS 9 
 
 THE CONTRACT 18 
 
 ARRIVAL 29 
 
 ALARMS 38 
 
 ADJUSTMENT 45 
 
 CONFESSION ....... 64 
 
 GONE 71 
 
 PURSUIT 83 
 
 MRS. LATHROP'S 95 
 
 THE GUESTS 107 
 
 THE COLLAR AND TIE 116 
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS 125 
 
 MISFORTUNE 132 
 
 THE OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE CAFE . . 142 
 
 WE HOLD CONFERENCE 151 
 
 THE SINEWS OF WAR 164 
 
 I HEAR NEWS 175 
 
 A JOURNEY TO THE COUNTRY .... 186 
 
 NANCY AGAIN 196 
 
 A WORD 206 
 
 THE DOCTORS 218 
 
 A LETTER 230 
 
 THE ATTEMPT 238 
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 
 
 THE DARK ROOM 
 
 ESCAPE 
 
 AN OLD FRIEND ..... 
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 THE CATASTROPHE . . . . . . 319 
 
 HOME . .... . . . . . 331 
 
 251 
 266 
 279 
 
 293 
 306
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY
 
 THE MAN IN 
 THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 THE PERSONAL 
 
 FOR a college-bred man I was in terrible case 
 indeed. I was stranded in the most arid 
 desert in the world New York City and I had 
 only the clothes that I stood in, my grandfather's 
 watch, and about fifty dollars in money. If I had 
 just come fresh to the city and had its possibilities 
 before me this would not have been so terrible. 
 But I had been in New York for three months 
 looking for employment, so that opportunity stood 
 behind instead of before me. I had tried in every 
 quarter I could think of, in search of work, and, 
 so far, every door had been closed. 
 
 To one who has never seen me this must seem 
 very strange indeed. Even to one meeting me 
 casually in the street there seems no apparent cause 
 why I, like other young men, should not find plenty 
 of work for the asking. Indeed, in several offices 
 
 I
 
 2 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 I was at first welcomed with open arms. But no 
 business man in the city would keep me in his 
 office once I had taken off my gloves. Through 
 some strange prank of fate my hands, although 
 of good shape and normal size, are blood-red from 
 the wrists down, birth-marked like the god of 
 death. 
 
 It was a strange misfortune. All my life my 
 terrible hands have drawn an impassable line be- 
 tween me and the happiness of other men. My 
 mother, God bless her, never feared me nor looked 
 upon me with any other feeling but the tenderest 
 one of love. But with my father it was different. 
 The very first sight he had of me repelled him, and 
 strive as he would he never could look at me after- 
 ward without some shadow of repugnance. He 
 tried to be fair to me, but he avoided me whenever 
 he could and there was never any close bond be- 
 tween us. When my parents were killed in a rail- 
 road wreck together it was the death of my mother 
 that came with cruel shock. That my father had 
 died gave me no more than a passing regret that 
 another good man had left the world. 
 
 Perhaps it is my misfortune that makes me feel 
 differently from, other men in regard to death. 
 Certainly, whatever the cause of my feeling may 
 be, I have no fear of death whatsoever. I can see 
 nothing terrible about it except a temporary 
 pain for the unfortunates who are left. I suppose
 
 THE PERSONAL 3 
 
 this is the reason that I am not what is called a 
 coward. The ultimate meaning of the word danger 
 is peril of death. As death has never seemed to 
 me a peril, rather a welcome step along the varia- 
 ble line of eternity, I have no feeling of shrink- 
 ing from it. I take no pride in this feeling any 
 more than I do in my rather unusual physical 
 strength (which is merely another chance of my 
 existence), but I find it hard to convince others of 
 the sincerity of my feeling. 
 
 But, indeed, I have never had much of an oppor- 
 tunity to convince other people of anything. I can 
 hardly remember the time when it has been a sur- 
 prise to me to see the startled change come into 
 people's faces as they noted my misfortune; and 
 yet I have never quite ceased to be hurt in some 
 measure. When I meet some new person and have 
 my gloves on they are usually kind enough to 
 seem frankly pleased with me and then, sooner 
 or later, they see my hands and the pleasure is gone 
 for both of us. 
 
 I think that my school-days were the most pain- 
 ful ones of my life, for children are very cruel to 
 one another in the open expression of their emotions. 
 I do not mean by this I dislike children; for, 
 on the contrary, I am more strongly drawn to them 
 than I am to grown-ups. The wounds that children 
 inflict are involuntary ; only grown animals hurt for 
 the pleasure of hurting.
 
 4 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 Nevertheless, it was very hard for me to see 
 healthy boys of my own age, few of whom would 
 shrink from holding a cold toad in their naked 
 hands, shrink back from my touch as if it were 
 a contagion. I could beat any one of the boys 
 that I met at any sport or feat of strength that he 
 might choose to suggest, yet I had never a friend 
 in all my years of schooling. Nor was the school 
 proud of me or my strength; for such was my 
 dislike of drawing any more attention to myself 
 than the ordinary events of life made necessary 
 that I refused to take part in any public contests, 
 or to represent my school in any athletic games with 
 any other. 
 
 At college I was a good deal more happy; for 
 the average college man avoids expression of sur- 
 prise as religiously as if acceptance of the unex- 
 pected or bizarre were a part of his creed of life. 
 Still I made no friends. I have thought since 
 that perhaps this was partly my own fault, that I 
 may have been too sensitive, too reluctant to burden 
 others with the weight of my own misfortune. So 
 I went my own way alone, reading a great deal 
 of my time away, and not particularly excelling 
 in any branch of my regular studies except perhaps 
 in physics and psychology. 
 
 The death of my parents came a few weeks 
 after my graduation, and I spent the next year in 
 straightening out my father's somewhat tangled
 
 THE PERSONAL 5 
 
 affairs, to find at the end of my labor that when 
 all the family debts had been paid there was little 
 left to divide between my brother and myself; 
 enough, perhaps, to make a bare living income for 
 one man. My father left no will, more because 
 he hated to think of how he ought to distribute 
 his money between a son he loved and one he did 
 not, than from any other reason, I think. So 
 I took five hundred dollars, which seemed to me 
 sufficient then with the world before me, and set 
 out to find the place I thought the world must 
 hold for me. The rest of our inheritance I left 
 to my brother. He was not strong, but was a hand- 
 some, attractive fellow, with an inborn love of 
 luxury. As he had no training nor desire for work 
 he certainly needed what fortune there was more 
 than it was possible that I ever could. 
 
 Yet now, as I sat pondering my affairs on a 
 bench in Washington Square, I almost wished that 
 we had arranged to have my share at least five hun- 
 dred dollars larger. As it was, the arrangement was 
 final, and my last thought would be to go back 
 upon it, or to appeal for aid which I knew must 
 be a drain upon the far from satisfactory income 
 of my brother. 
 
 It was one of the brilliant mornings so common 
 to the last days of May in New York, and the 
 Square was alive with children. They fluttered 
 everywhere, dainty, occupied, entrancing. The
 
 benches were filled with nurses and mothers, with 
 here and there an old gentleman taking the sun, 
 or some private, like myself, in the great army of 
 the unemployed. 
 
 The old gentleman in the seat next me had been 
 dozing for the better part of an hour. Finally he 
 awoke with a start and looked at his watch. He 
 drew himself up as if the hour had at last arrived 
 when he must set himself to work upon his multi- 
 tudinous affairs. I smiled in sympathy with his 
 waking shrug. 
 
 " Half-past eleven, sir," said he. " Indeed, I 
 must be going. Would you care to glance over 
 the morning paper, sir ? " And he handed me the 
 day's Herald that he had been nodding over, 
 stamped his left leg tentatively, squared his shoul- 
 ders with insistent vigor, and limped away in the 
 direction of Fifth Avenue. 
 
 I looked after him feeling much heartened by the 
 old-fashioned grace of his friendly courtesy, and 
 spread his paper out tenderly upon my knees. It 
 was the first gift of friendship that, as far as I 
 could remember, had ever been offered to me by 
 any hand other than my mother's. 
 
 There was little news. There had been a .cne- 
 ment fire on Hester Street, Mrs. Someone had given 
 a rather notable coaching party, and some obscure 
 millionaire on upper Fifth Avenue had died after 
 five years of mild insanity. I was glad that he
 
 THE PERSONAL 7 
 
 had got his release, and turned from habit to the 
 employment column. There was nothing there but 
 the same old catalogue of wants that experience 
 had taught me to look upon as hopeless. Then, 
 having nothing better to do, I turned to the " Per- 
 sonal " column, that bait box of villainy, that mar- 
 riage bureau of the restlessly sentimental. There 
 again was the usual thing, the long line of " Object 
 Matrimony," and then with a quickened interest 
 my eye fell on the following : 
 
 " A gentleman capable of deciding on the instant 
 may become financially independent for life. No 
 applicant will be considered who is bound by any 
 ties whatsoever, or who has not had a college educa- 
 tion. Apply in person between the hours of four 
 
 and five p. M. at Lexington Avenue, to-day. 
 
 "MR. BARNABY." 
 
 The thing was in all probability some swindle, 
 I reflected, and yet I could not help being inter- 
 ested for I seemed to myself exactly to fill 
 every qualification. Who (more especially what 
 college man) could be found with fewer ties than 
 I had? As for deciding any matter quickly, it 
 seemed to me that I could decide upon the instant 
 on anything, short of committing a crime, that 
 would show me the way to making my living. 
 
 I read over the address again and put the paper 
 into an inside pocket. I would go, for I had noth-
 
 8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 ing to lose, and perhaps there was really something 
 to gain. 
 
 But first I decided on a change of linen, a shave 
 and a new pair of gloves. If I were going to do 
 the thing at all, I might as well do it as a gentle- 
 man should. No, confound it, it was not my 
 necessity, nor my poor logic which was leading me 
 into this new path, but the very newness of the 
 path itself, the strange, alluring call of the un- 
 known. The clouds of despondency seemed to 
 clear away from my mind, leaving it clean swept 
 for whatever might be before me. So that it was 
 with a light heart that I strode out under the Wash- 
 ington Arch, with the joyous thrill of premoni- 
 tion stirring vaguely at my heart's roots.
 
 II 
 
 THE APPLICANTS 
 
 I LUNCHED indolently at the Cafe Martin; 
 for I had some time to kill, and I knew that 
 I could meet any situation the more easily if I 
 had eaten and eaten well. Then I smoked the most 
 expensive cigar of my life. This lunch seemed 
 somehow a solemn rite, a farewell to the little life 
 that I had led in my isolation. Of course I dined 
 gloved, as I do in all public places. Then, as I 
 smoked the last of my cigar, I walked slowly down 
 to Twenty-third Street. It was just half-past three 
 as I stepped on board a Lexington Avenue car. 
 
 On the car I watched my neighbors lazily. I 
 hardly seemed myself, my adventure was so 
 strongly at the helm. I was surprised that the 
 car took so short a time to make the journey up- 
 town. 
 
 In fact, I was past my destination before I knew 
 it, and had to walk back two blocks and a half. 
 The number corresponding to the address- given 
 in the advertisement was over the door of a private 
 stable. Nailed to the front of the building was a 
 large " To Let " sign. I had forgotten my sus- 
 
 9
 
 io THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 picions that the whole thing might be a swindle 
 or a hoax, and this barrenness of promise came 
 to me with a decided shock. Indeed, I did not 
 stop at the building at all, but walked past as if 
 the matter had no interest for me. Then I glanced 
 at my watch. It lacked ten minutes of the hour, so 
 I took a stroll and thought the situation over. 
 Then I came to my senses. If 7 were going to be 
 discouraged by a mere exterior, what could I ex- 
 pect from my employer. At exactly four I rang 
 the bell beside the smaller door of the stable. It 
 was one of the large folding doors that was opened ; 
 however, opened barely enough to admit me, and 
 I found myself in a large dismantled carriage room 
 where about thirty other men were sitting. 
 
 Evidently I had come to the right address. 
 About me sat men of all ages and circumstances. 
 Some were chatting together in low voices, some 
 sat grimly apart, with flushed faces, and eyes star- 
 ing in front of them. One man sat with his face 
 buried in his hands, still another had turned his 
 chair so that he sat in a corner with his face 
 turned toward the wall. None of them appeared 
 altogether at his ease. 
 
 I scanned the group eagerly, and heaved a sigh 
 of relief. As far as I could see there was no one 
 from my university, or any one that I had ever 
 seen before. Even if there had been, I was too 
 much accustomed to see men look at me askance
 
 THE APPLICANTS n 
 
 to have cared how any one looked at me here. It 
 seems to me worse to look ashamed than to look 
 afraid. 
 
 I took a chair from a pile in one corner (they 
 seemed to have been hired for the occasion from 
 some undertaker) and sat myself at ease to await 
 developments. I waited the full hour during which 
 the only interruptions were rings at the bell, the 
 entrance from another room of the servant who 
 had opened the door for me, and the admittance 
 of other candidates for lifelong independence. By 
 the time a rickety little alarm clock on a shelf by 
 the harness closet showed five o'clock, the big room 
 was full, and men sat with chair touching chair. 
 There were seventy-two of us. 
 
 At one minute past five the servant came out 
 again from the other room and locked the folding 
 doors. Then he worked his way about the room, 
 and touched a man at random. The man got to 
 his feet, his face paling and flushing by turn and 
 followed the servant out of the room. The door 
 was closed behind him. 
 
 Three minutes afterward another of us was 
 summoned in the same way, and so it continued. 
 The interviews lasted about two minutes each, al- 
 though some were much shorter and some took 
 nearly five. It was an hour and a half before half 
 the company had gone through the little door, and 
 my turn came. I had quite expected to be among
 
 12 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 the last, and was just hitching my chair aside to 
 allow the summoner to pass when he touched me 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 I arose and squared my shoulders, threading my 
 way after him among the chairs, and, as he held 
 open the door, I gave a straightening touch to my 
 tie and stepped before him into the next room. 
 He followed me, closing the door after him. 
 
 " The man who came on the even hour," he an- 
 nounced. 
 
 It was the small room common to many city 
 stables, the sanctum of the head coachman, where 
 bits and robes are usually kept. A large pine table 
 blocked the room in the middle, and at the farther 
 side of it sat one of the strangest men that I had 
 ever seen. His shoulders were drawn about his 
 ears, and his hard little eyes were almost hidden 
 under the extraordinary, long, gray bush of eye- 
 brows that shot down over them. His nose was 
 wide and long, the only fat thing in the shrunken 
 leanness of his face. His lips and chin were long 
 also, but the lips set tightly, while the flesh of the 
 pointed chin hung loose, and when he spoke it was 
 this that seemed to move rather than the lips. 
 
 " What is your name ? " The voice was low and 
 soft. 
 
 " Mason Ellsworth," I answered, and squared my 
 shoulders while he was writing it down on a slip 
 before him.
 
 THE APPLICANTS 13 
 
 "College?" 
 
 " Yale." 
 
 "Class?" 
 
 " 190" 
 
 " Step nearer to the window and turn so that 
 I may see you thoroughly." 
 
 I went over to the window and turned myself 
 about like a clothier's dummy. 
 
 " That is sufficient, Ellsworth," he said, when I 
 had turned twice around for his inspection ; " you 
 won't do." 
 
 " Why ? " I asked sharply, for I had seldom been 
 treated so abruptly before I had removed my gloves. 
 
 " That is my affair, sir. Peters, open the door 
 for the gentleman." 
 
 I turned to the door with a heavy heart. It 
 seemed I would not even pass muster among the 
 broken men who answered doubtful " Personals." 
 But, as I put on my hat, the old man at the table 
 recalled me sharply. 
 
 " Stop a moment, Ellsworth," he said. " Why 
 were you tempted to answer such a dubious adver- 
 tisement? " 
 
 " That is my affair," I answered ; for I had had 
 enough of this abrupt inquisition. 
 
 The old man grinned widely and his chin trem- 
 bled like a rabbit's. " On the contrary it is very 
 much my affair. Answer my question ! " 
 
 I was thoroughly angry. What right had this
 
 H THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 silver- voiced old ape to torture me if he had al- 
 ready determined my unfitness. I stepped over to 
 the table and slowly drew off my gloves, stretching 
 my hands across the table to him. The servant, 
 by the door, caught his breath sibilantly. 
 
 " Sit down, Ellsworth," said the old gentleman 
 softly; "perhaps we can arrange matters after all." 
 
 I sat down wonderingly. Why should the 
 world be turned topsy-turvy? Why should the 
 very thing that had stood in the way of my fortune 
 all my life suddenly turn seemingly to my advan- 
 tage? Queerly enough, I liked the old man at the 
 table less than ever. I determined not to advance 
 one step in the affair until I had sifted its honesty 
 to the very bottom, to question this strange man as 
 sharply and directly as he questioned me. After 
 all, manual labor was still open to me; I was as 
 free to refuse him as he had been to dismiss me. 
 
 " I would rather know your name before I permit 
 you to ask further questions," I said. 
 
 The old man frowned, and then nodded slowly. 
 " You shall know my name when I definitely en- 
 gage you. Are you, or have you ever been mar- 
 ried?" 
 
 I moved my hands upon the table. 
 
 " So I suppose," he said. " Still I would rather 
 have a positive answer. Are you married, sir?" 
 
 " Hardly," I answered, " nor am I like to be."
 
 THE APPLICANTS 15 
 
 His chin wobbled amazingly. " And you have 
 no other ties whatsoever ? " 
 
 " None whatsoever," I said. 
 
 "You are how old?" 
 
 " Thirty-two." 
 
 " Are you perfectly willing to break off all com- 
 munication with your friends, or to communicate 
 with them only as I direct? " 
 
 " I have no friends." I tried to speak indiffer- 
 ently, but could not altogether keep some of the 
 pain of my isolation from my voice. 
 
 It seemed as if this pleased him. I wondered if 
 he were not, perhaps, slightly insane. His eye was 
 very steady and direct, however. 
 
 "If you were settled in the country on a com- 
 fortable income, would you be willing to give me 
 your word to remain there, or to move only upon 
 my consent ? " 
 
 I thought this over for a moment. Such a life 
 would feel fettered in time I was sure, and yet even 
 a prospect like this appealed to me more strongly 
 than any I had ever dared to dream of. " Yes, 
 I would agree to do that," I said finally. 
 
 " Then you can consider yourself engaged, Mr. 
 Ellsworth. My name is Ephraim Bond. Your 
 income will be about thirty-one hundred dollars a 
 year." 
 
 " Are you not going a little fast, Mr. Bond ? "
 
 16 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 I asked. " You have not told me as yet how I 
 am to earn this money? " 
 
 " Frankly, Ellsworth, you ask quite too many 
 questions to please me. What does it matter to 
 you what you have to do? I give you my word 
 that you will receive the income. I will deed the 
 principal to that effect this afternoon." 
 
 " Frankly, Mr. Bond," I said, with rising anger, 
 " I don't care for the way you do business. I do 
 not even feel certain of your honesty. Can you 
 tell me explicitly what it is you want me to do, 
 or shall we consider the interview closed ? " and 
 I began putting on my gloves. 
 
 " You're a young fool," he snapped impatiently, 
 " and I'm an old fool to waste my time over you. 
 There are forty other men waiting in the next 
 room." He peered at me from beneath the over- 
 hanging brows, met my eye and looked away. 
 " All I want you to do is to marry my niece," he 
 fretfully concluded. " She is rather good looking, 
 if that is of any interest to you." 
 
 " To marry your niece ? " 
 
 " Yes, Ellsworth, marry her. There is nothing 
 dishonest in that, is there? " 
 
 My brain whirled. I had never spoken two 
 words to any other grown woman than my mother 
 in my life since I had entered college. God knows 
 I had dreamed of them often enough, but to speak
 
 THE APPLICANTS 17 
 
 to a woman in friendship, to marry her the very 
 suggestion of it dazed me. 
 
 " But the lady ? " I stammered. 
 
 " Is perfectly willing to marry the man I choose 
 for her." 
 
 " But but why do you choose me ? " 
 
 Mr. Bond rose abruptly from his chair. " See 
 here, Ellsworth," he said coldly, " that at least is 
 none of your business. Perhaps I think you are 
 the finest man in the world. Perhaps I like the 
 thought of you because I am sure I know that no 
 other woman will be likely to tempt you once 
 she has really seen you. Come, my carriage is 
 waiting, and I am a very busy man." 
 
 " Do you want me to come now, on the instant ? " 
 
 " I thought that you felt sure that you could 
 decide on any matter quickly." 
 
 " I will come," said I, and took my hat from the 
 table. At least I would find out what the thing was 
 all about, what the lady had to say in the matter. 
 Perhaps, indeed, the man was really insane, and 
 this girl, whoever she was, was actually in need of 
 help. 
 
 " That's better," said Mr. Bond. " Peters, you 
 may dismiss the other applicants."
 
 THE CONTRACT 
 
 WE sat in silence in Ephraim Bond's closed 
 coupe during the drive to the house. I 
 had never heard of my employer in my life, and 
 was much interested in watching our direction, 
 speculating with a certain mental detachment as we 
 drove along, on the probable neighborhood of his 
 residence. When we turned into Fifth Avenue I 
 thought that we were about to cross the Park, and 
 was no little surprised that our course continued 
 straight up-town. But my surprise was even greater 
 when we drew up before the steps of a large 
 granite house in the upper seventies. 
 
 The door was opened for us by a gray-haired 
 negro, who peered at me almost rudely, and shuffled 
 into the darkness at the farther end of the hallway, 
 with Mr. Bond's hat and cane. Mr. Bond, himself, 
 showed me the way into a reception-room, which 
 was as poorly lighted as the hall. 
 
 " I will call my niece," he said hurriedly, and as 
 hurriedly would have left the room had I not laid 
 a detaining hand on his sleeve. 
 
 18
 
 THE CONTRACT 19 
 
 " Just one moment, Mr. Bond," said I ; " I would 
 like to see your niece alone before there is any 
 talk of this marriage between us." 
 
 " I see no reason for it," he answered coldly. 
 
 " I do," I said. " You might as well under- 
 stand me, once and for all, sir. This is, I think 
 you will admit, an unusual proceeding. I have come 
 with you so far, but now that I am here we must 
 deal openly. Not only must your niece know what 
 manner of man I am, but I must also be sure that 
 she moves in this strange affair of her own free 
 will, that this bargain is as much her desire as it 
 is your wish. I tell you she will be a strange 
 woman if she consents without coercion to marry 
 a man branded as I am." 
 
 Ephraim Bond smiled in the semi-darkness. 
 " You are very suspicious, Mr. Ellsworth. But, 
 after all, I see no reason why I should not satisfy 
 your cautious nobility. I won't intrude at all on 
 your meeting. My niece will come down alone, 
 and you can introduce yourselves." 
 
 Before I could answer he had left the room. 
 
 I had wished to question him further, to spare 
 the girl the embarrassment of any awkward step on 
 my part ; but her uncle's leave-taking had been so ab- 
 rupt that I was left with my questions upon my 
 lips. I stepped over and drew the heavy window 
 curtains back as far as they would go, letting in 
 a little of the waning May sunshine. It would
 
 20 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 be well for two people embarking upon such an 
 enterprise, for this unknown girl and this chance- 
 found man, to see one another plainly, to meet 
 face to face in the open sunlight 
 
 I wondered what sort of woman she would prove 
 to be. Her uncle seemed very sure of her, of the 
 way she would bear herself in this meeting with a 
 strange and hideously marked man, who came in an- 
 swer to a newspaper advertisement to marry her for 
 his living. Perhaps she was unfortunate in some 
 such way as I was, I thought, or in some pressing dis- 
 tress that only marriage could solve. Perhaps, 
 but the portieres parted and she stood hesitating in 
 the doorway. 
 
 I stood wide-eyed and trembling in my place by 
 the window. I could see her quite plainly in the 
 better light, and she was the most beautiful woman 
 I had ever seen. She was small, but straight and 
 fair, with wonderful blue eyes that turned to me 
 wistfully. I thought I saw in them something of 
 relief. A fierce hatred of myself and of my little, 
 sordid speculations swept over me. I wanted to 
 go to her, and beg the grace of her forgiveness 
 upon my knees, but, for the first time in my life, 
 I was desperately afraid, so that I could only look 
 at her and tremble. 
 
 " My uncle sent me down," she said at last ; " I 
 am Nancy Bond." 
 
 Then, God be thanked, some flicker of manliness
 
 THE CONTRACT 21 
 
 came back to me, and I went over to her, and 
 stretched out my gloved hand. 
 
 " Do you know why I am here ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes. You are the man who has been chosen 
 for me to marry." 
 
 "Yes," I said gravely. "I am that man; but 
 now, God help me, I am more. I am the man who 
 has come, to marry you, if you will, but to help 
 you to the best of his poor power in any way that 
 you may desire." 
 
 She looked at me in a sudden surprise and flushed 
 painfully. 
 
 " You will be giving me more than I have the 
 right to ask in fulfilling my uncle's wish," she said, 
 and in some way the formal little sentence seemed 
 to me all of tragedy. 
 
 " But can you wish it too ? " I persisted, as gently 
 as I could. " Forgive me, but how can a woman 
 such as you are dare trust a man she has never 
 seen? Do you know that I came in answer to a 
 newspaper advertisement, that I came, a common' 
 fortune hunter, at your uncle's promise of money? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I know that. Let us not talk 
 of it any longer. You are a gentleman, as my 
 uncle promised ; that is all that I need to know for 
 the present. I dare not tell you everything now; 
 I trust you; that is enough. Come, my uncle will 
 be growing impatient." 
 
 She held her head bravely, but tears had crept
 
 22 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 into her eyes, and her cheeks were red with morti- 
 fication. 
 
 It was more than I could bear. " Surely," I said, 
 " I can help you in some other way in your trouble." 
 
 But she shook her head. 
 
 " Do you know about my hands ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, something." 
 
 " But you must know more." I would rather 
 have stood naked in the street than have shown 
 her my dreadful hands, but I shakingly took off 
 my gloves, and held my hands in the light. 
 
 She drew back with something like a sob. " It 
 was very like Uncle Ephraim," she said at last. 
 
 I bowed my head in silence. My heart was chok- 
 ing me. Then I felt her hand softly upon mine, 
 and looked up to see pity in her eyes and the tears 
 now flowing freely down her cheeks. 
 
 " You are very brave," she whispered softly, " a 
 very brave gentleman. Help me to be brave too; 
 for I am afraid and I need your help." 
 
 I looked beyond her with new-found courage, 
 with new grace to meet the world, and eyes that 
 looked yearningly into the future. Then my 
 thoughts came back to earth again with a rush; for 
 I saw that the portieres at the door were gently 
 moving, and the gleam of an eye showed flickeringly 
 at their parting. 
 
 I strode over to them suddenly, and my hand 
 grasped through them the solid arm of a man.
 
 THE CONTRACT 23 
 
 With a wrench it was torn away from me. I slid 
 the curtains back with a jerk, and stepped into the 
 hall. I glimpsed a moving shape at the dim far- 
 ther end; then a door opened and shut, and I was 
 alone in the hall. No, not alone, for behind me 
 stood Nancy Bond, her hand to her heart and all 
 the flush of color fled from her face. 
 
 I turned to her and put a steadying arm about 
 her shoulders. For a moment she leaned weakly 
 against me, shuddering in a voiceless terror; then 
 she mastered herself somewhat, and stood erect, 
 while my arm fell back again to my side. 
 
 " Did you see him ? " she whispered. " Did you 
 see his face ? " 
 
 " No," I said. " There was some one, but he got 
 away too quickly. It was probably your uncle, 
 come to hear how well he might trust us. There is 
 nothing to be afraid of." Indeed, now I thought 
 of it, it could be none other, and yet his arm had 
 felt more muscular than I should have expected. 
 He seemed to be a very tricky old gentleman. 
 
 But Nancy Bond shook her head. " No, it was 
 not my uncle, I do not think it was, at least. Yet 
 it couldn't have been " 
 
 " Nancy ! " Ephraim Bond's voice sounded softly 
 from the head of the stairs. If he had run up 
 by the back way he certainly showed a surprising 
 activity for his age. Still, who could it have been, 
 who was it that had so driven the color from
 
 24 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 Nancy's cheeks? Had she just stopped short of 
 another name that, as yet, I knew nothing of? I 
 thought all these things, as I slowly followed the 
 woman I was going to marry up the stairs. 
 
 " Going to marry," yes, the thing was decided 
 now. She had said that I would be doing her a 
 service, she had overcome with the tenderness of 
 her pity all the terror of my misfortune, she had 
 laid her white hand upon the red horror of my 
 own; come what might, be the mystery what it 
 would, I would marry her. She could direct our 
 future as she would, and I would stand ever ready 
 to give her what aid I could. I thanked God, as 
 I had never thanked Him before, that He had 
 made me strong, with the courage and will of a 
 strong man. And resolving these things, I fol- 
 lowed her along a narrow hall, and into a large 
 front room, where Ephraim Bond sat hunched and 
 waiting. 
 
 I do not know why I should .have been surprised 
 to see still another man in the room, but somehow 
 I had expected to find Mr. Bond waiting alone to 
 receive us. Perhaps he had foreseen that I would 
 use such an opportunity to question him further, 
 that I would wish to know more than* I had been 
 able to learn in my short interview with his niece. 
 At any rate, sitting in the bow of the window at 
 the far side of the room was a young man of about 
 my own age, a young man dressed in ill-fitting
 
 THE CONTRACT 25 
 
 clericals. Things moved swiftly in the Bond house- 
 hold. 
 
 " Mr. Ellsworth," my employer said briskly, 
 " allow me to present Mr. Stevens, who has most 
 kindly consented to officiate. Nancy, you remem- 
 ber I told you Henry Stevens was a distant relative 
 of ours? " 
 
 Mr. Bond's voice was softer than ever; Nancy 
 bowed her head in silence; Mr. Stevens smirked. 
 
 In fact, this young man smirked a good deal too 
 much, I thought. He was a very thin, and a very 
 blond young man, with watery, wandering blue 
 eyes. His ears flared astonishingly, and he picked 
 continually at already lacerated ringer ends. His 
 clerical collar formed a generous wall about a scanty 
 neck, whose enormous " Adam's apple " steadily 
 appeared and disappeared behind its starchy white 
 rampart. 
 
 " Nancy, you will please call Jonas. Mr. Ells- 
 worth and I have a little matter of business here; 
 Mr. Stevens will excuse us." 
 
 Miss Bond left the room silently, the Reverend 
 Mr. Stevens obliterated himself in the bow-window, 
 and I crossed over to the table after Ephraim Bond. 
 Three papers lay upon it. The first was a marriage 
 license made out in blank, and duly signed and 
 sealed; the second seemed much longer, and the 
 third was evidently a deed of property. 
 
 Mr. Bond indicated them to me with a wave of
 
 26 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 his hand, and seating myself deliberately, I took up 
 the license. 
 
 " How could you get this in blank ? " I asked. 
 
 Mr. Bond smiled. " I have some acquaintance 
 at the Bureau. It is quite correct, or will be when 
 you have filled in your name. You need not be 
 afraid, Mr. Ellsworth." 
 
 " I am not afraid," and I smiled too. It would 
 be easy to take out another, I reflected. In fact, 
 it would not be hard, and would certainly be very 
 much safer, quietly to repeat this whole wedding 
 before some county clerk, when we had left Mr. 
 Bond and his emaciated protege behind us in that 
 gloomy house. I filled in my name carelessly and 
 handed the license across the table to Mr. Bond. 
 
 The next paper I read at length. It was a re- 
 lease and an agreement; releasing Ephraim Bond 
 from any further payments to me, and binding me 
 to the terms he had told me of in the Lexington 
 Avenue stable, or rather it was an elaborate ex- 
 pression of those terms. 
 
 " This should have been made in duplicate," I 
 observed coldly, for I was anxious that he should 
 still believe that I was driving callous bargains 
 with him. 
 
 He frowned. " There is absolutely no reason 
 for that, Ellsworth," he answered. " This binds 
 you to keep faith with me. As far as I am con- 
 cerned, I cease to exist for you as soon as you re-
 
 THE CONTRACT 27 
 
 ceive your payment; I owe you nothing in the 
 future." 
 
 This, of course, I knew was nonsense, but I had, 
 thank God, long ceased to care for the things which 
 had led me first to answer his advertisement. I 
 had spoken to a woman who had answered me in 
 kindness. While she kept faith I could afford to 
 trust the rest of the world. I looked up; Nancy 
 was coming in at the door. I signed the paper with 
 I knew not what stirring at my heart and taking up 
 the last document, glanced hastily over it. It was 
 executed with all the proper signatures and seals, 
 and gave me life interest in certain stocks and 
 bonds; but it had lost its first importance, and I 
 crammed it into an inside pocket. 
 
 Mr. Bond stood up, as did I, and the minister 
 came forward to the middle of the room, prayer- 
 book in hand. Nancy Bond came and stood beside 
 me. She was very pale, but it seemed to me that 
 now she was less afraid. At a word from her 
 uncle the ceremony commenced. 
 
 A wedding ceremony is a short thing after all. It 
 surprised me that such a contract could be bound so 
 quickly; and to my unconscious surprise, we both 
 gave our responses clearly, repeating them after 
 Mr. Stevens in tones much steadier than his own. 
 For a minister he seemed a very clumsily fearful 
 one. 
 
 When the time came for the giving of a ring,
 
 28 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 Mr. Bond took one from his pocket, a bright new 
 one, evidently newly bought. But I shook my 
 head at him, and taking from my own pocket a 
 little, soft leather case, put a ring of my own upon 
 my wife's finger. It had been the other woman's 
 ring, my mother's ; since her death my dearest pos- 
 session. For the first time since the beginning of 
 the ceremony I thought that Nancy trembled a. 
 little. 
 
 Then, of a sudden, I found that we were man 
 and wife, and for the second time in my life I was a 
 little frightened.
 
 IV 
 
 ARRIVAL 
 
 I DID not offer to kiss my bride, nor did any of 
 the others. Indeed, except for Jonas, who had 
 followed Nancy into the room, and with Ephraim 
 Bond had acted as witness to the ceremony, none 
 of us showed much emotion. But Jonas' black 
 puzzled face exhibited a certain disquietude, which 
 he could not hide, even under the frown of his 
 employer. 
 
 Mr. Stevens seemed very nervous, smirking and 
 scowling in maddening repetition. He lingered 
 only a moment, then, with some muttered apology, 
 left the room, glancing back over his shoulder 
 at us, till his thin neck looked as if some one had 
 been trying to wring it. Mr. Bond did not even 
 trouble to bid him good day, and Jonas was far 
 too engrossed with his thoughts to show him the 
 door. He must have let himself out unassisted. 
 
 When he had gone, Mr. Bond wheeled upon the 
 trembling negro. 
 
 ' You are a fool," he said. " Leave the room, 
 and see that you stay in your pantry until I ring 
 if or you." 
 
 29
 
 go THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 "But, Mistah Bond, did? P'r'aps I ought 
 to in f ohm yoh that " 
 
 " Leave the room. Do you hear me? Leave 
 the room ! " Ephraim Bond's voice was sharper 
 than I had heard it, and the old negro went hesi- 
 tatingly out of the room, as if he were giving up 
 a duty unwillingly and apprehensively. Just as 
 he reached the door he looked back and nodded 
 with evident meaning to his employer, and what 
 color the marriage service had left her, vanished 
 from Nancy's face before my eyes. Ephraim Bond 
 made a half movement toward the door, and Jonas 
 fled. We could hear the clattering shuffle of his 
 feet on the back stairs. Below, one door shut softly 
 and another banged. Then all the house was 
 quiet. 
 
 " Here are your railroad tickets, Mr. Ellsworth," 
 and Mr. Bond held out an envelope to me ; " you 
 will find my carriage waiting for you at the door. 
 Nancy, you know me; you can perhaps advise your 
 husband about my whims, but, even to her hus- 
 band, a woman is safer in not telling all she knows. 
 I will see you as far as the door myself." 
 
 We started after him. Nancy was trembling so 
 now, that I took her hand and tucked it under my 
 arm. I held it so until I helped her into the car- 
 riage. I noticed that a small trunk and a hand- 
 bag were up beside the coachman, then I stepped 
 in and closed the carriage door upon us ; the coach-
 
 ARRIVAL 31 
 
 man touched the horse with his whip, and we were 
 off. When we had driven a block, I looked out 
 through the small window in the back. Ephraim 
 Bond still stood in the outer vestibule, but he was 
 not looking after us, but had turned, and seemed 
 to be watching a tall man in a brown derby hat, 
 who was running after a bus in the other direc- 
 tion. 
 
 A low sob caught my ear, and I dropped the 
 little curtain. Nancy had drawn herself deep into 
 her corner, and was sobbing as if her heart would 
 break. 
 
 For a long time I watched her in silence. She 
 cried steadily, her face buried in her arm. It hurt 
 me more than anything ever had, and yet what 
 could I do, what comfort could I give a woman I 
 had so married ? It was even possible that my very 
 presence was the reason of her tears. Finally I 
 stretched out a hand to her timidly. 
 
 At my touch upon her arm she looked up, and 
 although her eyes were full of tears, and her sobs 
 still came gaspingly, she smiled into my eyes. 
 
 " Are you so unhappy ? " I asked. 
 
 " No, I am not unhappy I I am free. We 
 have really left that dreadful house, have we not? 
 Do you wonder that I must cry a little I have 
 held myself so long, and now I am here. You 
 will never let them take me back, will you? " 
 
 " Never ! " I promised. I ached to take her in
 
 32 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 my arms, that she might feel the strength of me, 
 the absolute certainty of my protection. But I 
 let her rest quiet, all alone in her corner, to sob 
 the weight of her fear away. For myself I had 
 much to think of, a future to plan, a lifetime to 
 consider, but I let the future go for the moment. 
 To sit and watch her, curled there beside me in 
 the great carriage, was a pleasure too sweet to 
 miss. 
 
 As our carriage turned into Twenty-third Street, 
 my wife sat up and dried her tears, smoothing the 
 disarray of her hair, and setting her dress to rights 
 with little pats and shakes that were wonderful 
 to see. This was better, and I was much com- 
 forted. For if she could take thought of these 
 things she was surely getting away from her fright 
 and sorrow. I could not keep from wondering, 
 even at that moment, what she feared and what 
 she had suffered, and in what manner she had been 
 persuaded to give herself to me so docilely. I 
 would question her as soon as I dared, I thought, 
 as soon as she was strong enough and composed 
 enough to talk over such matters with me. It 
 would be best for us both that I should know some- 
 thing of her life, that I should be prepared to meet 
 the future. But, still, there was time enough; I 
 would not trouble her with questions until I knew 
 that she was ready for their answering. 
 
 "Where are we going?" she asked.
 
 ARRIVAL 33 
 
 " I thought that you knew," I said. " I haven't 
 looked yet. Let us see." And I put my hand in 
 my pocket and drew out the envelope. Nancy came 
 out a little from her corner. 
 
 In the envelope were ten ten-dollar bills, a lease 
 for a twenty-acre farm, and tickets reading to 
 Marbury, a town evidently somewhere on the line 
 of the Pennsylvania railroad. 
 
 " We are going to be buried," I said. " Does the 
 prospect frighten you ? " 
 
 She did not answer me, but she did not look as 
 if she were afraid. Our carriage was drawing up 
 before the Pennsylvania ferry house. I put the 
 envelope with the money and the lease back in my 
 inside coat pocket, but kept the tickets in my hand. 
 A porter took down our luggage, and I checked the 
 trunk, then I stepped to the ticket office, and in- 
 quired of the agent the whereabouts of Marbury. 
 He said it was a local station about thirty-five 
 minutes from Philadelphia. The express, he told 
 me, was just about to leave; it would make fair 
 connections with my local at Philadelphia. I 
 turned to find Nancy, for the time was nearly up. 
 But Nancy was at my elbow. 
 
 " Oh, hurry ! " she said, and caught me by the 
 sleeve. 
 
 ' There is plenty of time," I answered ; " we have 
 two full minutes yet." I glanced up at the clock. 
 It was a little later than I had thought. Outside
 
 34 
 
 there was a hansom drawing up with a terrific 
 clatter. " There is a man," thought I, " who is 
 later than we are." 
 
 Nancy tugged again at my arm. She looked 
 frightened now, so I ran after her through the gate, 
 and it was very lucky that I did, for it shut after 
 us. We were the last people through, and I felt 
 rather sorry for the man who had driven up in such a 
 hurry, only to miss the boat and his train. As 
 we stepped upon the boat I looked back, and saw 
 his brown hat bobbing with the force of the alter- 
 cation he was holding with the gateman through 
 the bars. Already the space between the boat and 
 the pier was beginning to widen, and Nancy's 
 clutch upon my sleeve was slowly loosening. After 
 a minute she withdrew her hand. 
 
 " Let us go out in front," she said. " I love the 
 breeze. I feel as if it would blow all the little ter- 
 rors one had away." 
 
 We talked but little all the way to Philadelphia. 
 Nancy curled up in her chair, and pretended to be 
 asleep, and I watched her, planning, as best I could, 
 what our future should be. Once or twice she drew 
 a little shivering sigh, and after a time, her foot 
 touched mine. I did not know whether she did it 
 knowingly, whether she felt some closer protection 
 in the touch, but I did not move, and held my- 
 self very still, insanely happy at what I knew might 
 be an entirely unconscious movement on her part.
 
 ARRIVAL 35 
 
 For I loved her. I knew, now, that however she 
 might come to think of me, this woman, who 
 was my wife, was, and always would be, dearer to 
 me than anything else in the world. 
 
 I am not sure when this first came to me, when 
 I first knew that I had found my love, but I think 
 that I loved her from the moment when I saw 
 her standing in the door of Ephraim Bond's recep- 
 tion-room, I know that I loved her when she had 
 touched my hand in pity and in friendship. So, as 
 we rushed through the May beauty of northern 
 New Jersey, on into the still more verdant green 
 of Pennsylvania, I sat very stiffly still indeed, with 
 my whole heart athrill at the magic of her touch, 
 my affliction forgotten, and the joy and strength 
 of youth pulsing dizzily at my brain. Two old 
 ladies across the aisle looked at me and smiled. It 
 was evident that they approved of my choice of a 
 wife. 
 
 A grinning porter, brush in hand, stopped beside 
 my chair, but I would have none of him. We were 
 drawing into Philadelphia and every moment was 
 precious. Then Nancy opened her eyes and looked 
 about her for her satchel. The train had stopped. 
 
 We waited twenty minutes for our local, while 
 Nancy talked nervously about whatever she saw 
 before us, and kept a restless watch upon the people 
 who passed. The poor child, I thought, was not 
 quite able, as yet, to put her past fears aside.
 
 36 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 The local was so crowded that we could get no 
 seat together, and I was forced to content myself 
 with sitting just behind her. She turned her head 
 from time to time to see that I was still near to 
 her, and I determined that I would put off no longer 
 than I could help, finding out what this fear was 
 that she was unable to leave behind. 
 
 At the Marbury station I found some sort of 
 conveyance, and gave the driver directions to drive 
 to the Butler Farm, as it was named in the lease. 
 He grumbled a little, saying that it was three miles 
 away, but at last we came to an agreement, and 
 my wife and I started on our first drive to our new 
 home. She sat very close to me all through the 
 jolting trip, that seemed to me so short; for night 
 had fallen and it had grown very dark. 
 
 We found the house in order and although a cold 
 supper was laid out for us on the dining-room table, 
 the lamps were unlighted, and there was no one to 
 receive us. I soon had a light, however, and made 
 Nancy eat a little supper. I ate something myself, 
 but did not remove my gloves. For the time my 
 dream must be laid aside. 
 
 When we had eaten, I rose from my chair and 
 stood before my wife. She looked up at me, and 
 her face seemed very tired and pale in the lamp- 
 light. 
 
 " Tell me," said I, " why you married me."
 
 ARRIVAL 37 
 
 Her eyes smiled up into mine. " Because I was 
 afraid to stay any longer in that house." 
 
 I bowed my head. It was what I had thought. 
 
 " Will you tell me about it sometime? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, I will tell you when you wish." 
 
 " Thank you," I said. 
 
 We were silent for a little while, then I took up 
 the light. 
 
 " You must be very tired," I said ; " we will find 
 your room. I will sleep somewhere within call, so 
 you need have no fear of all the things that used 
 to trouble you. You have been more kind than 
 any one but my mother has ever been to me. I 
 hope that we may grow to be friends in our exile. 
 Now let us look for your room." 
 
 On the next floor we found a room that had 
 evidently been made ready for us, and I gave her 
 the lamp. 
 
 " I hope you will sleep well," I said. " See, I 
 will take this room just across the hall." 
 
 She stretched out her hand to me, and I held it 
 in my own for a fleeting second. Then I turned 
 and opened my own door. 
 
 " Please," she said, and I saw her still standing 
 in her doorway, " please, would you mind leaving 
 your door ajar? "
 
 V 
 
 ALARMS 
 
 THE room that I had chosen was bare, all its 
 furniture consisting of a bed, a washstand, 
 and a bureau, all of the plainest wood. On the 
 floor, however, was a rag carpet that was a thing of 
 beauty. 
 
 It was useless for me to pretend, even to myself, 
 that I had any thoughts of going to bed. The day 
 had been too momentous for me to think of for- 
 getting it in sleep, until I had had at least time 
 to review its events in my mind, to adjust myself to 
 the life, that, of a sudden, I found myself com- 
 mitted to lead. I, who had that morning been an 
 irresponsible young man, a rejected applicant for 
 work, a lounger on a park bench, found myself to- 
 night a man of some means, a man in love, with 
 the woman I loved alone in my care, a woman who 
 might or might not be my legal wife. 
 
 About my attitude toward Nancy I had no 
 doubts whatsoever. She had consented to this 
 strange marriage because she had felt some trust in 
 me, or, at any rate, because she hoped that life in 
 my care would be endurable; not because she loved 
 
 38
 
 ALARMS 39 
 
 me. Whether our marriage had been legal or not, 
 I should consider that I alone was bound, that, un- 
 less she could come to love me in some measure as 
 I loved her, I would never allow myself to think of 
 her in any other way than a woman whose well- 
 being and happiness fate had given into my care as 
 a sacred trust, to be freely rendered her should she 
 find some protector more worthy of their keeping, 
 in her eyes, than I. But I prayed a great prayer 
 that such an one might never come, that Nancy 
 herself might perhaps by some miracle come to re- 
 turn my love. 
 
 I had no doubt that Ephraim Bond, himself, was, 
 in some mysterious way, the fountain head of all 
 her fears ; and I made up my mind I would find out 
 the very last of them and that that soft-spoken 
 old gentleman should come to know what manner 
 of man I was. He may have judged me of a timid 
 nature, I had traveled from office to office so long, 
 and had so long rather shrunk from any searching 
 scrutiny by my fellows. But, as I have said, I am 
 not by nature timid, and he should come to know 
 this clearly if, indeed, he had had any hand in the 
 terrors of his niece. My infirmity should trouble 
 me not at all where the affairs of my love were 
 concerned, where any sought to do evil to her happi- 
 ness. 
 
 The moon had risen and was casting the long 
 shadows of the trees in dainty lacery. Our house
 
 40 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 was set at some distance from the main road, at 
 the end of a winding lane. It was pleasant to be 
 so out of the hum of affairs, so thrown by the 
 nature, .of our very surroundings into one another's 
 society. If ever a man was given a chance to show 
 himself plainly to the eyes of his love I bade fair to 
 be that man. I smiled as I looked out upon the 
 silver, moonlit ribbon of our lane. Then every 
 muscle in my body grew tense, for the dark shadow 
 of a man had moved from the shade of one great 
 tree to another. 
 
 I tiptoed quickly to Nancy's door and listened. 
 There was no sound, and I was glad that she was 
 tired enough to sleep in the face of all that she 
 had gone through. Then I stole as softly as I 
 could down the creaking stairs, and let myself out 
 at the front door, creeping from the porch in the 
 fortunate shelter of the vines. Almost on hands and 
 knees I worked myself down the winding lane, tak- 
 ing little short-cuts when I could ' with safety. 
 When I had got some distance from the house I 
 stopped and waited behind a great clump of hy- 
 drangeas. 
 
 The man, I considered with myself in my hiding 
 place, was in all probability intruding innocently 
 enough. He might be a tramp looking for some 
 hay-stack or outbuilding, where he could rest for 
 the night, or he might be some native of the place
 
 ALARMS 41 
 
 spying curiously upon the new arrivals; for our 
 coming must have smacked somewhat of mystery. 
 But his approach had seemed to me unnecessarily 
 stealthy. I had too much to guard to be a sloth- 
 ful guardian. I would at least give this intruder 
 a healthy shock of surprise. Of a sudden the man 
 himself stole into the shadow of my bush, bending 
 nearly double, as I had bent. He meant no honest 
 thing certainly. 
 
 I rose and softly took him by the throat, and, 
 with tightening fingers, choked the scream that 
 struggled there. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " I asked in a 
 whisper. 
 
 The shadow was so intense that I could not see 
 his face, but his arms waved convulsively in the 
 darkness; I had not used my strength in so long 
 a time that I had forgotten its power and how 
 to temper it. I loosened my fingers a little, and 
 he drew a whistling breath, then, with his right 
 fist he struck me with all his strength between the 
 eyes, so that I reeled back from him, tearing his 
 collar and tie away in my slipping clutch. 
 
 By the time that I was on my feet again he was 
 already some distance down the lane. I started to 
 run silently after him; a shout, I feared, might 
 awaken Nancy from the sleep she so needed. He 
 turned his head a little and saw that I was gaining
 
 42 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 on him. For a second his pace slackened. Then he 
 turned himself squarely about, and fired twice at 
 me with leveled revolver. 
 
 The shots rang out in the stillness, like the thunder 
 of a cannon. I turned and ran at the top of my 
 speed back to the house, for I was very much afraid 
 the shots might have awakened Nancy. 
 
 I had left the front door unlatched so that I let 
 myself in without a sound, and, remembering the 
 stairs that had creaked in my descent, I was able 
 to gain the second floor almost noiselessly. I lis- 
 tened again at Nancy's door. She was moving 
 softly about the room, and I thought that I could 
 hear the rustle of clothes, as if she were dressing. 
 
 " Did you call me ? " I asked in a low voice. 
 
 " No," she answered, speaking as softly as I had, 
 " but I thought that I heard you go out, and then 
 some one fired a revolver. Was it you ? " 
 
 " No," I said ; " it was probably some village 
 roisterer, who found the night too quiet for him. 
 'Go back and get all the sleep you can; we have 
 all our domain to explore in the morning." 
 
 " Have you been out of the house ? " 
 
 I hesitated a moment. On the whole it would be 
 better not to let her think that I had even been 
 worried. 
 
 " No," I answered finally. 
 
 Her door swung open, and she stood before me, 
 completely dressed. She looked at me for a long
 
 ALARMS 43 
 
 time without a word. It was an effort not to drop 
 my eyes before the searching inquiry of hers. 
 
 " Mr. Ellsworth," she asked at last, " why is it 
 necessary to lie to me ? " 
 
 " I am not lying." 
 
 "Oh! " she cried, " why do you say that? You 
 know that you have been away, you whom I trusted 
 to stay within call, whom I have trusted enough to 
 think that I might have the truth. Have I not 
 trusted you in everything? Every one, every one, I 
 tell you, has lied to me for the last five years, every 
 one has cheated me and betrayed me till to-day 
 you came and now you see fit to lie to me too ! " 
 
 She turned her head away from me and a sob 
 struggled at her voice. I was too much hurt, too 
 much ashamed to answer, but stood with bowed 
 head, cursing my shortsightedness, not knowing 
 what to say. But I could not endure the sound of 
 her weeping. 
 
 " I will lie no more," I said. 
 
 She raised her lamp to see me the more plainly, to 
 read if this, too, were a lie. Her face went white. 
 I took the lamp from her and set it on a little table 
 in the hall. 
 
 " Are you hurt ? " she asked. " Tell me, are you 
 hurt?" 
 
 " It is only a scratch ! " I laughed ; " some fool 
 thought I was the devil, and punched me for my 
 interference."
 
 44 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 She came very close to me, and touched my fore- 
 head with one soft hand, then held it suddenly to 
 the light. There was a little stain of blood on it. 
 
 " Mason ! Mason ! " she cried, and her hands 
 went to my shoulders, " is that all, are you quite 
 sure that that was all ? You are not wounded, are 
 you? Oh, tell me the truth! You have no right 
 to hide such a thing from me ! " 
 
 " No, I am not hurt," I answered gruffly, for her 
 touch unsteadied me. Then, because I could not 
 help it, and she was very near, " Would it make 
 any difference to you if I were?" 
 
 She did not answer me, she did not even look 
 up, and I grew very much ashamed. A puff of air 
 blew down the hall; the lamp flickered and went 
 out. Her hands dropped from my shoulders. 
 
 "Will you forgive me?" I asked, after what 
 seemed an age there in the dark. 
 
 There was another long silence, and I thought that 
 I heard her sob again very softly. Then her hand 
 touched mine. " There is nothing to forgive," she 
 said wearily. " Good night." 
 
 For a little I stood in the hall, then I went into 
 my own room, leaving my door ajar. I sat in my 
 chair by the window, dizzy and sick and perplexed, 
 wild hopes and dull despair gripping me ever and in 
 turn. Then I heard the soft click of her door again. 
 She had set it ajar. I threw myself dressed upon 
 my bed. In a moment I was asleep.
 
 VI 
 
 ADJUSTMENT 
 
 I AWOKE rather late the next morning. In fact, 
 my first glance at my watch made me spring 
 from my bed in horror. It was long past eight 
 o'clock. There had been no sign of any servant 
 about the place the night before, and, for all I 
 knew, Nancy might have been up an hour or so 
 and waiting for her breakfast. I stripped and 
 bathed hurriedly, dressing again rapidly and 
 smoothing out my rumpled clothes as best I could. 
 One of my pockets bulged insistently, and I put 
 in my hand to find out the cause of it. To my 
 surprise, I drew out the collar and necktie that had 
 been so suddenly left in my hand the night before. 
 They were much torn but seemed to be of good 
 make. I put them carefully in my drawer, with 
 some vague idea of looking them over more closely 
 in the future. I was irritated that the bruise on 
 my forehead had blackened during the night. But 
 I had no time to waste over my personal appear- 
 ance ; so, opening my door, I ran down-stairs, with 
 the guilty feeling that comes of the consciousness of 
 having overslept. Nevertheless I was strangely 
 
 45
 
 46 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 light of heart. I was very thankful not to find 
 Nancy waiting for me. 
 
 Some one was bustling about in the kitchen. It 
 promised well. Probably Ephraim Bond had en- 
 gaged us a servant, after all. At least the fire 
 would be lighted, I thought; that was half the bat- 
 tle. With a fire I could make shift to get break- 
 fast myself. 
 
 A little woman, done up in a great brown apron, 
 was standing over the range as I came in. She 
 turned a very rosy face to me, as she heard my 
 step. It was a new, changed Nancy, the most ab- 
 surdly delicious little housewife imaginable. 
 
 " Good morning," I stammered ; " who made the 
 fire?" 
 
 " I did, of course ; there was no one else awake 
 when I came down." She seemed faintly amused 
 at my confusion. " I got along very well by myself," 
 she laughed. " I hope you like eggs. I was afraid 
 to try anything more ambitious. Besides, there 
 wasn't a great variety of things in the cupboard. 
 I shall have to do a great deal of marketing to- 
 day." She hesitated a moment. " Have we any 
 money?" With the question her color came, but 
 she asked it sweetly and straightforwardly. 
 
 " I have fifty dollars," I replied. " Your uncle 
 gave me a hundred. I suppose that more will be 
 coming in soon. I wish, though, that we weren't 
 going to have to use that money ; I hate the thought
 
 ADJUSTMENT 47 
 
 of it to-day. Fortunately the fifty dollars is my 
 own, about all I have left." 
 
 Nancy laughed. " I don't think that you need 
 have any scruples about using the income money. 
 I am sure that you have been doing all that a man 
 could to earn it. Uncle Ephraim never pays for 
 more than value received." 
 
 " Let us not talk of him," said I, " or at least, not 
 until after breakfast Let me help you. I think I 
 can make coffee." 
 
 Nancy paused abruptly in her bustle of setting the 
 kitchen table. 
 
 " Take off your gloves," she said. " No one ever 
 heard of a man making coffee in gloves." 
 
 " But " I stammered, and stood hesitating. 
 
 Nancy came over and stood squarely in front of 
 me. " We might as well get over this foolishness 
 first as last. Take off your gloves." 
 
 I unbuttoned one very slowly; it frightened me 
 that she should see my hands again. 
 
 "Oh, take them off!" Then softly, and with 
 her honest eyes looking into my shamed ones, " I 
 am not afraid of your hands. I am very sorry, 
 but I am not afraid. I am glad that they are all 
 you have in your life to be ashamed of. You are 
 too sensitive about your hands ; you think too much 
 about them." 
 
 I wondered why she thought that I had nothing 
 else to be ashamed of; nevertheless I took off my
 
 48 -THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 gloves. I know that new sight of my hands in the 
 broad daylight of the great, old kitchen must have 
 come to her with something of a shock, in spite of 
 herself, but she made no sign of distress, unless, 
 perhaps, for a few minutes, she busied herself the 
 harder with the table setting. 
 
 We made a merry breakfast of it. I vowed, and 
 so, truly, it seemed to me, that Nancy fried the 
 eggs more beautifully than eggs had ever been fried 
 before, and Nancy said that never had French chef 
 produced a more delicious cup of coffee. 
 
 Breakfast over, we made ourselves ready for the 
 long walk to the village. Nancy had got a little 
 old straw hat from her trunk, a relic of her school- 
 days, that she had kept because she had been happy 
 in it, and in spite of the heavy coils of burnished 
 hair, she looked simply a bewitching school-girl as 
 she pinned it on. I said as much. 
 
 She looked up at me, her face very rosy. " A 
 young lady must look her best," she laughed, 
 " when she takes the air with the lord of the manor, 
 especially when he himself looks so great and 
 strong, and haughty." 
 
 " That is not haughtiness," I said ; " that is pride." 
 
 " Is there any difference ? " 
 
 " All the difference between sorrow and great 
 happiness," I answered, and I thought that some of 
 my new-found joy of life was reflected in her eyes. 
 
 So we chatted happily with each other as we
 
 ADJUSTMENT 49 
 
 strolled down the winding sweetness of our own 
 long lane. The day was a golden one, a wondrous 
 jewel in the crown of spring. Yesterday morn- 
 ing yes, only yesterday I had thought, even 
 in my weary loneliness, that the spring was very 
 lovely. I had thought it beautiful, as I had sat 
 amid the cramped burgeoning of Washington 
 Square. To-day with the country stretched before 
 me, a panorama bounded only by the horizon glimps- 
 ing ever and again through the tremulous fore- 
 ground of the trees, it seemed as if I saw spring 
 face to face for the first time. Perhaps one may 
 never see the greatest beauty from lonely eyes, but 
 must share the seeing with another really to see 
 at all. Perhaps one is always partly blind, until 
 some added greatness, some unselfishness of passion 
 draws the veil from his eyes. 
 
 I drew a long breath. " Is it not wonderful ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 Nancy nodded, her eyes blue as the hills that held 
 them. 
 
 ' To think that this is all ours," she sighed at 
 last ; " that we are free to look and look, and draw 
 rest and healing from it for as long as we like ! " 
 
 I blessed her in my heart for the trick she was 
 falling into of saying " we." If things could never 
 grow from the level that they were taking on this 
 our first day, even so, I could be happy, perhaps 
 content. It seemed strangely unreasonable that I
 
 50 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 should even dream of love, when so great a boon 
 as companionship had been granted my starvation. 
 I glanced down at Nancy, wondering if her thoughts 
 traveled at all the same road as mine. She was 
 very pale, and her eyes had lost their reflection of 
 the hills. 
 
 " What is it ? " I asked in astonishment, for these 
 recurrent fears of hers were beginning to make me 
 uneasy, in spite of myself. 
 
 "Nothing," she said; "nothing." But she 
 turned her eyes to mine with an effort. 
 
 I looked quickly about us, so nervous was I grow- 
 ing; but I saw no one; we were absolutely alone in 
 our own lane, under the bright May sun. Then my 
 eyes dropped from their searching of the meadows, 
 and, of a sudden, I saw. In the path before us 
 a brown derby hat was rocking softly in the dust. 
 
 I cursed myself that I had forgotten to look for 
 it after my encounter of the night before. Now 
 that I searched my memory, I could see very clearly 
 the black silhouette of my assailant, as he had stood 
 and fired, and he was bareheaded. No man would 
 have gone roaming hatless about the country. If 
 I had not been such a fool, had not been so startled 
 with the roar of his revolver, I should have thought 
 of this, and should have hidden away this intrusive 
 witness of the night's unpleasantness. It was too 
 late now, but I determined that Nancy should not 
 remember it long.
 
 ADJUSTMENT 51 
 
 " My friend seems to have been in something of 
 a hurry," I said. But Nancy could call up no an- 
 swering smile. 
 
 " You make too much of that little disturbance, 
 young lady," I laughed. " I will throw the thing 
 out of sight, and then we will think of something 
 else. Your nerves have grown too acute; a few 
 minutes of the sunshine, though, will put everything 
 right with you again." 
 
 I picked up the hat from where the little breeze 
 still rocked it in the dust, and tossed it behind the 
 clump of hydrangeas that had sheltered me the night 
 before, and we went on again on our walk to the 
 village. 
 
 But the brightness had gone out of things, the 
 close joyousness of being together had passed, for 
 the time, beyond recall. I did my best to drive 
 away the cloud, to bring the color back again to 
 Nancy's cheeks, and she tried her best to help, to 
 smile at the foolish things I said; but we could not 
 manage it. So, after I had tried for some time, I 
 bowed to the inevitable, and decided that at least 
 it could not make matters any worse to question 
 Nancy on part of all the things that I wanted to 
 know. 
 
 " Perhaps, after all," I said, " you had better tell 
 me now why you married me, why you were even 
 willing to trust a stranger to " 
 
 " There isn't so very much to tell," Nancy said,
 
 52 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 as I paused uncertainly. " I lived like any other 
 girl until about five years ago, when my father lost 
 his mind. My mother I scarcely remember at all. 
 I was very little when she died. 
 
 " Until I was thirteen, my father and I lived 
 alone together, alone except for my governess. We 
 were very happy, for we were devoted to each other 
 and great friends. Indeed, he kept me so constantly 
 with him, and undertook so much of my education 
 himself, my governess had very little to do. You 
 see, I was about the only interest he had. He had 
 been a banker before my mother died, but with the 
 shock of her death he retired. He loved her so 
 much that he had no wish to live himself, and if he 
 had not been able to turn that love to me, I do not 
 think he really would have survived her long. It 
 is bad for a man to have nothing to do. His fortune 
 was an old inherited one, and his business had never 
 been more than a half-hearted occupation. With 
 his sorrow he dropped it absolutely, and dropped 
 his friends and clubs and acquaintances. I see now 
 that it was bad for him, that he should never have 
 shut himself away from the world; for year by year 
 he became more of a recluse. He was active and 
 spirited as a young man, I think. The blow of my 
 mother's death crushed all that out of him. With 
 me he was never morbid nor gloomy, only sweet 
 and mild and gentle, as if the mainspring of his 
 life had been snapped. Then when I was thirteen
 
 ADJUSTMENT 53 
 
 my uncle Ephraim, father's elder brother, came to 
 live with us. And almost from the day he came 
 things began to change in the house. 
 
 " I don't know why my father let him come, or 
 why he let him stay, except that in his own sorrow 
 he was filled with pity for any hurt or injured thing. 
 He had inherited the bulk of the fortune, for my 
 grandfather had practically disowned Uncle 
 Ephraim for some youthful scandal that my father 
 would never tell me about. He only said that we 
 should be sorry for him, and that his ways were not 
 our ways, and that he was quite poor now. But, 
 little girl as I was, I wondered that my father, know- 
 ing what he did of my uncle, could fall so completely 
 under his sway." 
 
 Nancy threw out her hands in a little gesture of 
 defense. 
 
 " You see," she went on, " father was not him- 
 self. He had lost interest in the world, and his 
 courage, the big, fighting courage I know he once 
 had, was broken. As he had drawn away from 
 the world and business he paid less and less atten- 
 tion to his own affairs, and though I am sure he 
 did not love his brother, and that even his presence 
 in the house made him uncomfortable, yet, once 
 having taken him in because he was sorry for him, 
 he found it more and more easy to cast his respon- 
 sibilities on him. First, they used to have long talks 
 together of an evening, talks from which my father
 
 54 ;THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 came out looking worn and tired, and which gradu- 
 ally absorbed the time we had been accustomed to 
 spending so happily together. They were business 
 talks, he told me, and he used to sigh wearily, and 
 complain because the money which he no longer 
 cared for, so demanded his attention. At last, I 
 know, he revolted, and gave all his necessary busi- 
 ness into Uncle Ephraim's charge. It is queer how 
 gradually such things come about. I remember 
 how I used to pity my father for the work he had 
 to do, until I almost felt grateful to Uncle Ephraim, 
 whom I hated, for relieving him of it. But neither 
 of us realized, until the time I was sent away to 
 school, what a power he had become in the house. 
 " It was the last great test, and it showed how 
 complete his influence over my father had become. 
 I was the only thing on earth my father cared for, 
 and my uncle was able to make him part with me. 
 He told him, I remember, that he had been selfish, 
 that no matter how well he was educating me, he 
 had no right to withdraw me from the companion- 
 ship of other girls; and although my father wept 
 piteously and openly when he told me of it, he was 
 too much under my uncle's sway to be unconvinced, 
 and I was sent to a school which my uncle chose for 
 me in a pretty suburb of Paris. I had been at 
 school scarcely two months when I was recalled by 
 a cablegram from my uncle. My father, he cabled, 
 had received some sort of stroke. I was hurried
 
 ADJUSTMENT 55 
 
 home by the first steamer, but I never saw my father 
 again. 
 
 " At first Uncle Ephraim said that my father was 
 too sick to see me. No one saw him but his doctor 
 and his man trained nurse, and sometimes, I sup- 
 pose, my uncle. I lived for months in terrible 
 anxiety, to be told finally that although my father 
 was growing stronger, his long fever had so preyed 
 upon his mind as to leave him actually unbalanced, 
 and that the only hope of a cure lay in keeping him 
 in the quiet of absolute seclusion. They all told 
 me so, the doctor, my uncle and the nurse. I was 
 sure it would have done him good to see me, to 
 have had me to take care of him and to amuse 
 him, but they were all very certain it would not, 
 and I was only fifteen and now had not even my 
 governess to advise me. So for five years my 
 father lived in a closed room." 
 
 Nancy paused, her face turned away from me. I 
 knew that she was struggling with her tears. 
 
 " Five years," she repeated softly, at last, " but 
 now he is free again." She turned wet eyes to me 
 and smiled. " He died six days ago," she said. 
 
 I tried, I suppose, to offer some poor consolation, 
 for Nancy interrupted me. 
 
 " No," she said, " I am not sorry for that ; I am 
 glad. It was not then he died for me, but long 
 ago. I am only glad now, glad that he is free, for he 
 was more a prisoner than I."
 
 56 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 "Than you?" 
 
 " For all those years," Nancy answered, " I have 
 been kept close; I have never in all that time 
 gone even for a little walk without my uncle or his 
 man, Jonas." 
 
 " Do you mean to say," I cried, " that you your- 
 self were not free to go where you liked? Why, 
 the thing sounds impossible ! " 
 
 " It would have been impossible if I had had any 
 one in the world to turn to; but you must remem- 
 ber that I was all alone, that Uncle Ephraim really 
 was my guardian. I could not believe at first that 
 he would dare actually to make a prisoner of me. 
 But it was very hard to be independent with Uncle 
 Ephraim. He had a way of treating me like a small 
 girl; as if he could never bring himself to realize 
 that I had grown up. He punished me dreadfully 
 for what he called indiscretions, indiscretions such 
 as speaking to the woman who sat next me in the 
 trolley, or stopping to chat with a little newsboy in 
 the street. He would lock me in my room for days 
 for such offenses, once or twice he even made me 
 hold out my hand while he struck it with a ruler, 
 and once, when I called to a girl of my own age 
 from my window, after he had locked me in 
 my room, he threatened to punish not only me, 
 but my poor broken father also, and I had to give 
 up my room for one in the back of the house."
 
 ADJUSTMENT 57 
 
 " But, why did you stay? " I asked, as calmly as 
 I could; for I was trembling all over in the sup- 
 pression of my rage, in my pity for the defense- 
 less horror of those cruel, lonely years. " Why did 
 you not run away ? Surely they would have helped 
 you at your school, even the policeman on the block 
 could have done something." 
 
 " I could not Don't you see that I could not 
 dare, that I could not risk that possibility, that poor 
 father would be punished in my stead, and I 
 thought Uncle Ephraim capable of anything, things 
 worse than punishment. Oh, I could not go; he 
 might even have killed him." 
 
 " But your friends," I protested stupidly, " your 
 friends and his ? " 
 
 Nancy smiled bravely up at me. " We had 
 none," she replied. " Men, and even women, used 
 to come from time to time at first, but they found 
 father changed, I suppose, and gradually stopped 
 coming. It is dreadful how soon a man can be for- 
 gotten, even a man of brains and wealth and posi- 
 tion. Even before Uncle Ephraim lived with us 
 people had stopped coming. And I had no friends 
 of my own. The only ones I had ever made were 
 at school, and they were mostly English and French 
 girls. Only one other girl in school was an Amer- 
 ican, and she stayed there for a long time after I 
 had left. She did come to see me, I think. Once,
 
 58 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 not so very long ago, I thought I heard her asking 
 for me at the front door, but Jonas told her I was 
 not at home and shut the door in her face." 
 
 " Jonas ! " I repeated in astonishment. 
 
 " He has not been with us very long," said 
 Nancy, " and my uncle employed him. He meant 
 no harm, I think, and was only acting under in- 
 structions. I found none of our old servants when 
 I came back from abroad, and Uncle Ephraim kept 
 for ever changing the ones we had. I asked one of 
 the maids, who seemed to care for me a little, to 
 mail a letter for me to one of father's old friends, 
 but she only gave it to my uncle, and I was punished 
 for it. There was really no one I could go to." 
 
 It was more than I could bear. The sweet voice 
 of my beloved sounded level and dead in its mo- 
 notony of pain. I looked at her as she walked slowly 
 beside me; her head was bent a little forward, and 
 her eyes looked very tired, as they gazed, unsee- 
 ingly, at the road before her. 
 
 "He shall pay for it all!" I cried out. "He 
 shall pay for it now. He struck your hand ! 
 I will strangle him with mine ! He shall have cause 
 to think them the hands of Death! " 
 
 Her eyes looked into mine, wide at the sudden 
 terror of the great passion that I could no longer 
 hide, then tears came into them, and her hand fell 
 timidly upon the tenseness of my arm. 
 
 " I am very tired," she said ; " I don't think that
 
 ADJUSTMENT 59 
 
 revenge would make me happier. I want to rest. 
 He is too strong for us, Mason. He has tied us 
 very strongly, for whatever you did I should suffer 
 for. Even if you could injure him, he could injure 
 us. The strength of your hands would only bring 
 you into the law, and you are my husband or 
 perhaps you are not. Don't you see that, whatever 
 our relation is, he has tied your hands for ever with 
 my name? " 
 
 I bowed my head, for it was true. Ephraim 
 Bond would never have anything to fear from me ; 
 even if our marriage were illegal I was the more 
 strongly bound. And then a great joy, a mighty 
 wave of selfishness swept over me. Whether either 
 of us would or no, Nancy was bound to me for all 
 time. I had only meant to give all my help and 
 all my love, but the situation had moved beyond 
 my control. Because in the eyes of the world, we 
 had lived not quite eighteen hours as man and wife, 
 as man and wife we must live until death came to 
 part us. 
 
 But I bore her greater love than that; I loved 
 her too truly to be selfish very long. Perhaps, even 
 yet, there was time to help her in a more unselfish 
 way, and to frighten Ephraim Bond into his senses, 
 to punish him in some measure as he deserved. 
 
 " Nancy," I said, " if our marriage was not legal, 
 there is a way out for you yet. Scarcely any one 
 has seen us, scarcely any one knows that we have
 
 60 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 been here at all. Suppose that I go back to New 
 York alone and look into this business. If we 
 were not really married I will go to your uncle, 
 and tell him all that I now know. The witnesses 
 of an illegal marriage would scarcely be at much 
 pains to tell of what they saw. You could be happy, 
 then, and free, for I could frighten your uncle into 
 giving you anything that you wished." 
 
 Nancy said nothing, but kept walking slowly be- 
 side me. Far down the road I saw the dust of a 
 wagon. 
 
 " We will have to stop now, if we are not going 
 to be seen together. There is some one coming in 
 sight now," I said. 
 
 " Are you unhappy ? " Nancy asked. " Are you 
 unhappy with things as they are ? " 
 
 " You know that I am not," I answered. " I 
 have never been so happy in my life." 
 
 " Nor have I," said Nancy, and her voice was 
 very low but unafraid. 
 
 " Nancy ! " I cried, and stopped short in the middle 
 of the road. The wagon was coming over the 
 ridge of the next hill. 
 
 " Well ? " said Nancy quietly, but I thought that 
 her voice shook a little. 
 
 "What do you mean?" I asked. "You mean 
 that you are more happy than you have been in 
 years ; that is all you mean. Isn't it ? " 
 
 " No. I don't know why, but I am more happy
 
 ADJUSTMENT 61 
 
 than I have ever been, more happy even than I was 
 when my father was alive to me." 
 
 " But oh, Nancy, you could not care to be near 
 such a man as I am. Happiness in nearness means 
 love, and you could never love such a man." 
 
 " Could you love me ? " Her voice was very low 
 indeed now. 
 
 " Love you ? I love the very things that you 
 have touched. I have never done anything else but 
 love you, and fight against it, since I saw you in 
 the doorway. Whether you love or hate me, I can 
 never do anything else but love you. God for- 
 give me, how should I dare to love you, and yet 
 how can I help but love ? " 
 
 " I think that I love you, too. Hush, dear, it 
 is not wrong of you to love me." 
 
 "Nancy!" 
 
 " Wait, Mason ; do not touch me yet. I want 
 to be very sure. You and love have come so sud- 
 denly into my life, that I can scarcely believe it 
 all. I must have a little time, a very little time, 
 Mason dear, but I do not think that we need be 
 afraid." 
 
 The wagon rattled up, and was past in a cloud 
 of dust. I was drunkenly dizzy, and Nancy and 
 I and the bright country around us seemed hazy 
 unrealities; then, slowly, things straightened them- 
 selves about me, and with a great effort I regained 
 some self-command.
 
 62 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Very well," I said, " you shall tell me when you 
 have had time to think, but do not forget what you 
 are and what I am." 
 
 " I have never forgotten that," she answered. 
 
 " Then come," I said ; " we have more errands to 
 do than we shall possibly have time for." 
 
 So we walked along the road until we saw the 
 town cradled in a little valley at our feet. 
 
 " I think that heaven must be in a valley," said 
 Nancy. 
 
 I looked at her, and smiled. " Heaven," I said, 
 " is not in any fixed place at all, but moves encir- 
 clingly about the wandering feet of Love." And 
 that was the last time on all our walk that love was 
 mentioned between us. 
 
 We did a great many errands, and it was very 
 pleasant to purchase the little homely things that go 
 to make up living. We bargained and bought, as 
 if we had been buying pans and vegetables all our 
 lives, and we returned laden with the lightest and 
 most necessary of our spoils. 
 
 Once we were well home again, and Nancy was 
 busy exploring closets, setting things to rights, and 
 planning the disposition of the w r agon load of things 
 that we expected the next day from the village, I 
 thought it a good opportunity to get the brown 
 derby hat from its place behind the bush. 
 
 I ran down the lane, fearful that she would miss 
 me, and that her thoughts would be again directed
 
 ADJUSTMENT 63 
 
 to whatever unpleasant channel they had turned at 
 the hat's discovery. 
 
 I reached the bush almost out of breath, decid- 
 ing, as I ran, that I would put away the hat with the 
 collar and necktie, to examine some day more 
 closely. But once behind the bush, I stopped, think- 
 ing that I had made some mistake. 
 
 But there could be no mistake about it. This was 
 the only clump of hydrangeas in our long lane. 
 
 The hat had disappeared.
 
 VII 
 
 CONFESSION 
 
 SOME two hundred yards behind the house was 
 an orchard of old and contorted apple-trees, 
 and through the orchard ran a tumbling, gossipy, 
 little brook. We found it as we were exploring 
 the place after breakfast, the next day, and such was 
 Nancy's delight with it, that she would go no 
 farther, but must needs sit down under the largest 
 tree by the water-side, to contemplate at leisure the 
 fairyland Spring had left in passing. There was 
 a pleasant and remote detachment about the place 
 which charmed us both. It seemed as far away 
 from the clamorous bustle of the city as if it were 
 on another planet, and even the quiet, little near-by 
 town was unsuggested and forgotten. The place 
 encompassed a life of its own, and seemed a small 
 and isolated Paradise with no dependence on the 
 outer world. The stream at our feet gurgled and 
 laughed and ran between the lush growth of its 
 gently sloping banks. From time to time a ghost- 
 like, fleeting minnow would scurry past, an uncer- 
 tain shadow in the broken water. From overhang- 
 ing bush to overhanging bush an unseen spider had 
 
 64
 
 CONFESSION 65 
 
 cast a filmy suspension bridge, a bridge which was 
 splashed and jeweled by the rollicking water be- 
 neath it. Here and there, the stream was tripped 
 and tangled with soft, submerged thickets of cress, 
 which topped the water in lovely patches of dark 
 emerald. Near us a luxuriant clump of cowslips 
 reveled at the water-side, lifting upon thick stems 
 wonderful, half -opened crowns of green-gold. 
 
 Nancy had brought with her a diminutive and 
 dangling bag of pink flowered silk. Now, as with 
 a little sigh she sat down under the apple-tree, she 
 opened it and took out a square of embroidery, and 
 deftly threading an impossibly small needle with a 
 length of coarse silk, set about the absent completion, 
 of some flower unknown to botany. I have often 
 wondered if fancy work was not more adornment 
 than employment, an unconscious and decorative 
 stage property, as foreign to its possessor as ear- 
 rings, and without actual intent, serving much the 
 same purpose. Certainly as she sat there, slim 
 fingers busy with the work, I thought nothing on 
 heaven or earth could be more charming. It 
 seemed to me that nature itself held its breath 
 watching her, that all the tender new-born beauty 
 about us was only frame and background for her 
 loveliness. The apple-trees, gnarled with the whim- 
 sical growth of years, twisted and roughened by 
 sleet and sun and frost, seemed to have laid aside 
 for her their sturdy work-a-day utility, veiling them-
 
 66 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 selves in blossoms, every triumphant struggling line 
 of them softened and disguised in a fresh, exquisite 
 pinkness of bloom, as delicately nebulous and as 
 dewy sweet as the cheeks of still-dreaming, half- 
 awakened dawn. The whole orchard breathed of 
 them a faint, pervading sweet that stirred the 
 senses like a fleeting memory of lost Eden. 
 
 The day was warm, and Nancy had welcomed it 
 with a dress of some light, soft stuff of cloudy tur- 
 quoise blue, to me a mystery of marvelous per- 
 fections ; for it was cut low at the throat and caught 
 together there by a great, old-fashioned, gold 
 brooch, leaving her neck's soft contour free. Her 
 head, bending over her work, or raised in happy 
 contemplation of the beauty about her, was touched 
 by the leaf-broken sunshine, which danced and 
 shimmered on the heavy coils of hair, reflecting 
 coppery gleams among the gold, or making spun 
 gold of the dainty tendrils at her neck's white nape. 
 Her eyes, a deeper blue than the spring sky, turned 
 sometimes to the world about her and sometimes 
 happily to mine, or bending to some intricacy of her 
 work, were veiled beneath the long dark lashes, 
 her delicate dark brows knit in a pretty perplexity. 
 
 As I looked down at her I forgot in a little while 
 my fear of her in the wonder of it all; that she 
 was here and very lovely, drove all other thoughts 
 from my mind. She must have seen something of 
 this, as she glanced up at me; for the color swept
 
 CONFESSION 67 
 
 up over her white neck, turning her cheeks a deeper 
 pink, and dyeing even the little coral ears. 
 
 "Well, Mason?" she asked. 
 
 " I was only thinking," I replied, " that you are 
 inexpressibly lovely and that well, I am glad that 
 I asked you yesterday, for I should never dare to 
 do it now." 
 
 " Oh," said Nancy, very softly, and bent with 
 sudden industry over her work. 
 
 " You know," I said at length, trying to speak 
 evenly, " that you said you would tell me to-day." 
 
 Nancy's silk got into an unexpected snarl, and 
 she set intently about righting it. I was not sure 
 that she had heard me. A little breeze whispered 
 over the blossoms; a sapsucker fluttered from a 
 near-by tree to the one over our heads, running 
 in dizzy spirals about a big branch, and stopping 
 to peer at us with his yellow striped head held 
 hesitant. 
 
 " What have you decided ? " I repeated. " Can 
 you find it in your heart to marry me, Nancy ? " 
 
 To my surprise Nancy smiled at me. 
 
 " What do you think ? " she asked. 
 
 " I think," I said, " that I want you more than 
 heaven, that I can give you such a love as only a 
 starved man can give, that somehow, in some way, 
 with God's help, I can make you happy. But I 
 think too that I am asking too much of you. I am 
 bound by your uncle's terms, which it may or may
 
 68 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 not be right for me to break, to stay here out of 
 the way of the world. I have nothing to offer you, 
 nothing at all. To marry me would be perhaps to 
 bury yourself here with me, to lose touch with 
 things, to cramp your life in many ways, to exile 
 yourself from all the laughter and little gaieties of 
 the world, the myriad precious trivialities that make 
 life for a woman worth while. You have seen so 
 little of the joy of things, the sweetness of things, 
 and the happy, careless fun of things, that you are 
 too innocent of life itself to change them for the 
 nothing I have to offer. But oh, Nancy, I can't 
 help loving you, loving you and wanting you." 
 
 She got slowly to her feet and stood straightly 
 proud before me. 
 
 "Is that all?" she asked. 
 
 " All ? " I repeated vaguely. 
 
 " Yes," said Nancy, " because, if it is, I want 
 you to listen. You do not know very much about 
 women, Mason; nothing at all about me. Bury 
 me here, you say? Take me away from the light 
 and joyous and pretty things that women love? 
 Offer me nothing in return? Do you think, can 
 you truly think, that to be here with you would 
 be that? Oh, I know what I have missed in life, 
 little kindnesses, little friendships, little loves; but 
 take them all together and what are they worth? 
 These things do not spell life to a woman, Mason. 
 It is the great friend and the great love that she
 
 CONFESSION 69 
 
 wants. Home and a man, whose world she is, love 
 and understanding, the laughter and tears of real 
 every-day life, with the great life of every day, the 
 secure tranquillity of night time, a hand to touch 
 in the dark and true eyes to look into in the light, 
 these are the things that make her horizon. Noth- 
 ing to offer, Mason? No man can give a woman 
 any more." 
 
 She threw out her hands with a little gesture as 
 she finished and I caught them in both my own, 
 till she swayed to me, hiding her misty eyes against 
 my breast. 
 
 " Nancy," I whispered, and again breathlessly, 
 " Nancy," and stooping, I gathered her up in my 
 arms. All unafraid her lips met mine at last. 
 
 When we had been sitting for a long time under 
 the tree together, and when we had planned our 
 lives to very eternity itself, and I had been scolded 
 and berated and forgiven for my blindness and 
 stupidity, and the bird had flown away and come 
 back to us again, a sudden and practical question 
 occurred to me. 
 
 " What? " said Nancy, taking her hand abruptly 
 from my shoulder and pushing herself off at arm's 
 length. 
 
 But I was not to be twice chided with cowardice. 
 " I can't see any gain," I said, " in waiting. If you 
 are to marry me at all, why shouldn't you marry me 
 right away ? "
 
 70 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 "Well!" said Nancy, "well!" 
 
 " Well what ? " I asked. " If you have any good 
 reason, you'd better tell me." 
 
 A little smile stirred at the corners of Nancy's 
 mouth. 
 
 " No girl living," she said, " would consent to 
 being married out of hand like that. If you want 
 to marry me, Mason, you must wait for me." 
 
 " Wait ? " I repeated blankly. 
 
 " Yes," said Nancy, " until to-morrow," and 
 settled back again into the place she had left.
 
 VIII 
 
 GONE 
 
 I MUST go, I felt, that very afternoon for our 
 marriage license. Now that Nancy had 
 promised to marry me on the morrow, she was as 
 anxious about it as I was. At first we had planned 
 to drive in in the morning and get the license 
 together, and then go quietly to the nearest 
 minister, but I was ignorant of such matters and 
 afraid that it might be refused with the ink 
 scarce dry upon it. It would be much safer, 
 I thought, to leave a little margin, and when 
 I got my license, find out beforehand what would 
 be required of us. 
 
 I was reluctant, however, to leave Nancy alone, 
 feeling all of a city man's doubt of the safety of 
 the country, and disturbed by the thought of that 
 night prowler, whose hat had but yesterday disap- 
 peared from our road. 
 
 I told Nancy something of my fears and to my 
 surprise she took them quite seriously. 
 
 " I can go with you," she suggested. 
 
 " A pretty long walk, I'm afraid," I said, " and 
 you know you are still a little tired from the walk 
 
 71
 
 72 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 we took yesterday. Perhaps though we could drive 
 in." 
 
 " Go and try the neighbors," said Nancy, " and 
 if you can't get a conveyance, perhaps you can get 
 some one to come in and stay with me. There is 
 really a lot of work to be done about the house, 
 and I have no right at all to be taking excursions 
 around the country. I'll go if you can get some- 
 thing to drive in, in spite of my conscience; but 
 if you can't, I shall be perfectly happy, if only you 
 can persuade some woman to come in and work with 
 me for the rest of the day." 
 
 I made the rounds of my neighbors without very 
 much success. The horses were lame, the horses 
 were busy, there was plowing to do, and I think 
 their owners looked with some suspicion on my city 
 clothes. There was no telling how such a man as 
 I would treat horse-flesh. They were all perfectly 
 willing, however, to risk their women folk, and 
 softened the refusal (5f their horses by offers of 
 their wives. Finally I had to content myself with 
 one of the latter. She was a large, pleasant-faced 
 woman of middle age, sensible and assertive, who 
 would inspire terror, I thought, in the heart of the 
 hungriest tramp. She came with me with a readi- 
 ness which, I am sure, was largely inspired by 
 curiosity, a praiseworthy enough desire to know 
 what her new neighbors were like. Nancy was 
 charmed with her, and with a good heart I left
 
 GONE 73 
 
 them together, already engrossed in our new pails 
 and brushes. 
 
 Doylestown, I found, was a little over five miles 
 away. But what were five miles to a man on such 
 an errand as mine? It was unbelievably wonderful 
 that I, Mason Ellsworth, should ever be going on 
 such an errand at all. And for a mile or so I went 
 lightly, as one going in a dream and desperately 
 afraid that he may awake to the cruel realities of 
 every day. But overhead the sun was warm, lush 
 field and meadow, sodden with the overnight rain, 
 smoked with an earthy smell that brought to my 
 city senses primal stirrings that thrilled through me 
 like wine; birds were stirring cheerfully in the 
 hedgerows and thickets, and from time to time, I 
 would come upon a brown rabbit sentinel, ears 
 slanted forward at attention, as if he said " Pass, 
 friend," and then scurried off to herald the news 
 along the road. After all, it was reality, solid, com- 
 fortable, healthy reality, and before I had gone half 
 way I was striding the road like any soldier; love 
 and the world lay before me, and come what might 
 I felt strongly ready. 
 
 Although Doylestown was a little county seat, 
 I had to inquire my way to the county clerk's office, 
 and I thought as I did so that my informant looked 
 at me doubtfully, as if he wondered who I was 
 and what my errand. And the clerk himself, when 
 I had given our pedigrees, as best I could and he had
 
 74 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 made me out our license, leaned toward me as one 
 having gossip to impart and wishing more. 
 
 "Mr. Ellsworth," he said, "a friend of yours 
 was asking for you here only yesterday." 
 
 " Of mine," I repeated wonderingly. 
 
 The clerk looked at me sharply. " I suppose he 
 was," he said. " Unless you owe some one money," 
 and he chuckled as if the observation had been the 
 quintessence of sly humor. 
 
 " What did he look like? " I asked. 
 
 " Well, I don't know as you'd say he looked like 
 anything particular. He was just a tall man, with 
 good clothes, and a nose perhaps a little longer 
 than the law allows. The only thing I really did 
 notice about him was his cap. I did like his cap. 
 It was just like one I have had my eye on for the 
 last two weeks. I am going to step around and 
 get it this afternoon." 
 
 The taste of the Bucks County clerk in caps 
 did not seem to me a very enthralling subject. 
 " Oh, you must have been mistaken," I said ; " there 
 is nobody about here that I know. It must have 
 been some other Ellsworth that he was looking for." 
 
 "Well," drawled the clerk, "he asked for 
 Mason Ellsworth as plain as paint. Wanted to 
 know if I had heard either of you or of a young 
 lady named Nancy Bond. Said he was the agent 
 for some phonograph or other, and his firm had 
 asked him to look you up." He eyed me for a
 
 GONE 75 
 
 moment shrewdly. " I did not take much stock in 
 that agent business, though," he said ; " somehow 
 you can tell an agent when you see one." 
 
 " Mason Ellsworth, Nancy Bond ? " Who in 
 the world could be looking for us? Who in the 
 world in this out-of-the-way place? No one but 
 Nancy's uncle could, it seemed to me, know where 
 we were; and yet this was evidently not Ephraim 
 Bond. I had come very bravely upon my errand, 
 but now I felt vaguely afraid, and my fear was 
 the greater simply because it was vague. Of a 
 sudden, I remembered the man in the brown derby 
 hat, and felt that I was five long miles and over 
 away from Nancy. " Thank you," I said to the 
 clerk and walked out of the office as quietly as I 
 could. It was agony to keep my measured step 
 through the almost empty streets of the quiet, in- 
 quisitive little town. Once out of it, I started run- 
 ning and ran until I could run no more. So I 
 went along those five miles that had seemed so 
 short, running when I could, walking when I 
 could run no more; fear growing in my heart with 
 every tortured, panting stride. No vehicle of any 
 kind passed me, and I hated the physical disability 
 and lack of training that kept me from running 
 every step of the way. But at last I came in sight 
 of home. 
 
 There it lay across the rolling fields, peaceful 
 and secure. Smoke was curling lazily from the
 
 7 6 
 
 great central chimney and the gray expanse of 
 shingled roof was blotched irregularly with color, 
 where pigeons sunned themselves in the glow of 
 the late afternoon. How foolish I had been! 
 Here, if anywhere in the world, was security itself. 
 I had tasted of melodrama, to be sure, but, thank 
 God, I had left it behind me in the city where any- 
 thing may happen; here was only peace and quiet 
 and the poignant happiness of ultimate tranquillity. 
 I laughed at the thoughts that had stirred me 
 and made up my mind that they should not trouble 
 Nancy too. I was hot and tired and dusty, and 
 I stopped in the road to make some disguising re- 
 pairs to my dishevelment. I was dusting my shoes 
 with my handkerchief, when there came a rattle 
 of wheels and a shout, and I had only time to leap 
 to the roadside, when a horse and buggy rounded 
 the abrupt turn of the road and dashed past me 
 at a runaway gallop in the direction I had just 
 come. I turned to look after it; the buggy top 
 was up and lurching drunkenly to the mad galloping 
 of the horse. If I had not heard the shout I should 
 have thought the runaway was driverless, and then 
 to my amazement I could see far off the thin 
 flicker of a lashing whip, as the buggy disappeared 
 in a cloud of dust. 
 
 After all, I was tired and nervous ; even this sud- 
 den chance awoke my fears again. I vaulted the
 
 GONE 77 
 
 whitewashed rail fence and started running across 
 the fields, blundering through bits of bog, tearing 
 impatiently through briers, and once or twice al- 
 most falling on the deceptive, uneven ground. 
 
 I made the veranda steps in a rush; the front 
 door was open and I paused a second, gasping 
 in the hall. "Nancy!" I called, "Nancy!" and 
 stood sickly afraid. Though my voice echoed hol- 
 lowly through the house and I knew, even as I 
 called, that I was all alone there, that Nancy was 
 gone, nevertheless, I ran up to her room, only to 
 find it empty, and then started searching the rest 
 of the house with an abandonment of terror which 
 has since made me heartily ashamed. Empty room 
 after empty room mocked and menaced me. A bit 
 of embroidery lay on the dining-room table, and I 
 snatched it up, as if, somehow, it might help me 
 find her. I threw open the back door and called,, 
 and ran out of the house and through the orchard, 
 calling, " Nancy, Nancy," to the empty world. 
 Then, as when once or twice in my life I have 
 had to fight, I grew of a sudden quiet, collected 
 and cold, and went back to make a more methodical 
 search of the house. It was barely possible, I re- 
 flected, that she had made an excursion to one of 
 the neighbor's places, taking her helper with her as 
 a guide. Then, before making the rounds of the 
 neighborhood, I determined to look our own house
 
 78 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 over thoroughly; for, unless indeed she had gone 
 somewhere with Nancy, I could not account for the 
 disappearance of the woman I had employed. 
 
 I was not to seek her long, however, for as I 
 reentered the kitchen, I heard a sound which I 
 must have heard before, save for the extremity 
 of my panic, the drumming of fists on the inside 
 of a closet door. The door had been locked and 
 bolted from the outside, and my heart sank within 
 me as I undid the lock, for I knew now that Nancy 
 was surely gone. The woman, whom I had thought 
 so secure a guardian, burst out upon me wrath fully. 
 
 " .What did you mean by that ? " she asked, her 
 voice rising almost to a shriek. " Is that the way 
 to treat any one? If it's a joke, it's a very poor 
 one." 
 
 " Exactly what happened ? " I asked her, when 
 I had calmed her indignation somewhat 
 
 " I don't know now what did happen," she 
 said. " I thought it was you. Your young lady 
 had gone up-stairs for some time, and left me to 
 put paper on the closet shelves. While I was work- 
 ing in there, some one slammed the door behind 
 me and locked it. It frightened me nearly out of 
 my senses, and then I thought as perhaps you were 
 one of those young cut-ups, and had done it for a 
 joke." 
 
 " Did you hear any noise in the house ? " I asked 
 her.
 
 GONE 79 
 
 " No, I heard nothing at all," she replied dryly. 
 " I've been making all the noise myself I could hear 
 at one time. Why ? " she added. " Has anything 
 happened ? " 
 
 I saw she had no information for me and de- 
 cided against letting her know of Nancy's disap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " No," I stammered, " nothing has happened. 
 I really must apologize," I blundered on, feeling that 
 I was lying clumsily, " but I am afraid that I really 
 did shut that door. You see, I'm very absent- 
 minded. I don't remember doing it, but I suppose 
 I must have. We had a closet at home very much 
 like this, and we had to keep continually locking 
 it to keep the cat out. I must have just shut 
 the door and turned the key from force of habit, 
 when I went through the kitchen; but I give you 
 my word of honor, Mrs. Blake, that I didn't see 
 you." 
 
 Clumsy as the falsehood was, it struck a fortunate 
 chord. 
 
 " That's just like my father used to be," she said, 
 " long about when he was ninety. He was so ab- 
 sent-minded, he'd go up-stairs to change his shoes 
 and go to bed right in the middle of the day." She 
 launched into a long series of her father's peculiar 
 and absent-minded doings, which in my agony I had 
 to strive to listen to quietly ; for I was very anxious 
 to get her out of the house, suspecting nothing,
 
 8o THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 a feat which I finally accomplished by saying that 
 Nancy was tired out and resting and that she 
 wanted Mrs. Blake to be home in time to cook 
 her own supper. Then I mounted the stairs again 
 to Nancy's room. The late sun came levelly 
 through the windows, lighting its farthest corner. 
 One chair lay on its side, lace window curtains 
 were disarranged, and a curtain cord had been 
 ripped away with a force that had broken its old- 
 fashioned hook. That was all. But that all was 
 enough. Nancy had not gone of her own free 
 will, and with murder in my heart I laughed aloud 
 in the silent room. 
 
 This, then, was the errand of the midnight 
 prowler, this the accomplished aim of the man, 
 for he must have been the same, who had inquired 
 for us at the county clerk's office. Who he was, 
 whether an agent of Ephraim Bond's or not, 
 whether or not this was all part of the original 
 plan, I could not know, and for the instant did not 
 care. It was enough for me that Nancy was gone 
 and that she had been taken roughly. I knew that 
 I should find her again, if I had to kill some one 
 to do it; find her and bring her home. The next 
 time this man came under my hands he should not 
 escape so easily. 
 
 But on Nancy's bureau lay something white, a 
 mocking sheet of paper that looked up at me. I 
 read:
 
 GONE 81 
 
 " I have changed my mind, luckily in time for us 
 both. You must forgive me, but I find that I am 
 unable to overcome an innate repugnance of physi- 
 cal disfigurement. I did not wish the pain of seeing 
 you again, which, I am sure, you will see would 
 have been a pain for us both, and so I am taking 
 the afternoon train for Philadelphia. There I shall 
 spend the night with friends, and in the morn- 
 ing take up the rest of the journey home. Forgive 
 me and believe me, I am sorry. You are not to try 
 to follow. That is absolutely final. 
 
 " NANCY BOND." 
 
 Even as I read it, I knew the thing was a lie. 
 I had never seen her writing; but whether this 
 letter was forged or whether she had written it 
 herself, under the necessity of some compulsion, 
 I could not decide; already, I was too sure of her 
 to believe it. Whatever she might do, or had 
 done, she would certainly never have made my 
 hands the excuse for running away, nor indeed 
 would she have run away at all. 
 
 The thing was outside the possibility of her 
 moral courage. If, in my absence, she had de- 
 cided for any reason that our proposed marriage 
 was wrong, I was sure she would have waited for 
 me, and told me that reason with gentle bravery. 
 
 I folded the note and put it in my pocket, then, 
 with a sudden tardy thought, cursed myself furi- 
 ously and aloud, for I remembered the galloping 
 horse that had so nearly run me down, the swaying
 
 buggy, the lashing, cruel whip; Nancy must have 
 passed me almost at our very gates, and I had stood 
 gaping in the road and wonderingly watched her 
 out of sight. What a hopeless fool I had been, 
 and even now the minutes were flying. Again I 
 found myself out upon the open road, running this 
 time tirelessly and with a new-found strength. 
 Evening had fallen, and here and there I passed 
 toilers returning home. One or two called after 
 me, but I kept steadfastly on my way until the 
 town lights began to twinkle before me. Then, 
 here and there, I stopped to make inquiries, fearing 
 now at many turnings to lose the trail of him whom 
 I pursued. 
 
 A lathered, foundered horse attracts attention 
 anywhere, and I easily traced it to the heart of 
 the town itself. My last informant vaguely thought 
 it had gone through, but after that I absolutely lost 
 track. It might have been abandoned in some field 
 or lane, it might have gone on to any one of two 
 or three towns ; the fact remained that it was gone. 
 It was agony not to go ahead, but folly to go 
 ahead blindly. In the end I had myself driven 
 home, to work out there a plausible scheme of 
 pursuit. In the country the night comes with final- 
 ity, the world is asleep, and he who travels must 
 travel alone and uninformed.
 
 IX 
 
 PURSUIT 
 
 FIRST of all, I ate something; for, now that I 
 understood the blow, now that panic had 
 crystallized into determination, I recognized that, 
 the more serious the situation, the more need there 
 was that I should be at my top level of efficiency. 
 Then seriously I sat down to consider the matter. 
 
 After all, I was certain of only one thing, that 
 Nancy had not left me of her own free will, and 
 even here my certainty was a moral one. With 
 morning I must be ready to find her, to go straight 
 to her if I could; or, at any rate, I must have 
 some definitely determined plan of action; nothing 
 much is ever gained by a vague casting about for 
 a trail. And, as at first I thought things over, it 
 all seemed for the moment blind and hopeless. 
 Then methodically I went back to the very be- 
 ginning of things. Of a sudden I remembered the 
 curtains that had stirred in Ephraim Bond's house, 
 that unknown eavesdropper at our first meeting, 
 whose arm I had grasped through the curtain folds 
 and found unexpectedly strong. I remembered, too, 
 Nancy's nervousness at the ferry, and the man 
 
 83
 
 84 
 
 in the brown derby hat, who had driven up just 
 too late to catch our boat. How stupid and un- 
 noticing a man in love may be ; now was the first 
 time that I connected this impatient man at the 
 ferry gates with the skulking intruder of the night 
 of our arrival, whose lost hat, rocking in the empty 
 road, had alone been enough to cloud the happiness 
 of the day for Nancy. Surely, I thought, here was 
 the man. 
 
 Here was the man; but how was I further ad- 
 vanced ? To be sure, I had seen him at the ferry. 
 and had struggled with him amid the glimpsing 
 moonlight of the lawn ; but on neither occasion had 
 I clearly seen his face, nor could I call to mind 
 any memory of it. Yet, in all probability, it was 
 he who had inquired about us at the county seat. 
 Here was a man remarkable for nothing save a 
 long nose. The fact that the clerk was very sure 
 that then he wore a cloth cap, strengthened rather 
 than weakened the probability. If the man I had 
 struggled with, and who had lost that brown derby 
 as he broke away from me, were the same, he 
 would not have gone about the country bareheaded, 
 but would have stepped in to a local haberdasher's 
 to make some shift at replacing his loss. That he 
 returned for the derby showed more a commendable 
 caution than anything else; he must have been 
 pretty certain that I had Nancy in my care, and, 
 as he was definitely planning to take her away from
 
 PURSUIT 85 
 
 me, risked a daylight search of the roadside rather 
 than leave such a workable clue in my hands. And 
 with the thought I got to my feet. After all, 
 something was left; I need not start absolutely 
 in the dark ; for up-stairs in my bureau lay the torn 
 collar and tie, tangible witnesses of our midnight 
 encounter. I took the lamp from the table and 
 climbed the stairs in search of them. 
 
 The door of Nancy's room was still open. How 
 empty the house seemed! I closed my own door 
 behind me to shut out the new and poignant loneli- 
 ness, and to lock myself in to that familiar solitude 
 to which I had grown perforce accustomed. 
 
 The collar itself was torn and rumpled, but evi- 
 dently, as I had noticed before, of good make. I 
 smoothed it out on the bureau before me, going 
 over it minutely, as I imagined a Central Office 
 man would do, and, to make things more clear, 
 jotted down in my note-book what meager observa- 
 tions and deductions I could make. The size was 
 sixteen; evidently my man was either stout or 
 strong; for a matter of fact I already knew him 
 to be the latter. It was marked in indelible ink, 
 M. 48, after the custom of steam laundries, and 
 there followed after this five upright marks in vary- 
 ing degrees of freshness, four of them grouped 
 together by a cutting diagonal. These marks I 
 took it were his own ; I had known one or two men 
 before with this same economical inquisitiveness,
 
 86 
 
 whose strange pleasure it was so to reckon the life 
 of a collar. These marks simply meant that this 
 particular collar had been laundered six times since 
 its purchase, in all probability by the same concern. 
 And as there were no other laundry marks than 
 the M. 48 I had noted, this it seemed to me must 
 mean two things; first, that my man had in all 
 probability lived in one place for at least six weeks, 
 and second, that in this case, he must have be- 
 come a known and listed patron of some laundry. 
 
 The tie was plain enough, but bore the name 
 of a fashionable New York maker, which I hoped 
 meant that my man lived in New York, and that 
 perhaps he might be known to the firm whose 
 name the tie bore. I knew, at least, that fortunately 
 they prided themselves upon the exclusiveness of 
 their designs, that, even in their own shop, they 
 sold but two or three of the same pattern, and I 
 hoped that there I might chance upon a salesman 
 intelligent enough, and with that uncanny trick 
 of remembering a customer's face that salesmen 
 sometimes acquire, to give me some information 
 as to whom this tie actually belonged. Perhaps, 
 even, it bore some distinguishing mark, indistin- 
 guishable to my untrained eyes. I rolled the two 
 together very carefully, and stowed them away in 
 my coat pocket. 
 
 Outside it was bright moonlight again; and I 
 stood by the window for a moment, following with
 
 PURSUIT 87 
 
 my eyes our winding road, and unconsciously 
 searching the crisp black shadows for the intruder 
 of two nights ago. Once it seemed to me that 
 I almost saw him; then I recognized the absurdity 
 of the thought and what a jangle my nerves must 
 be in. But, nevertheless, although I smiled at my 
 own foolishness, I took the collar and tie from my 
 coat pocket, and tucked them under my pillow. 
 After all, they were about my only clues, and I 
 should keep them as safe as a traveler in foreign 
 lands guards his money-belt. Then through sheer 
 fatigue I fell asleep. 
 
 I suppose I slept soundly for an hour or two, 
 until the first numbing edge of my weariness had 
 passed; then through utter unconsciousness crept 
 the vague and poignant stirrings of my anxiety. 
 Nancy's face, white and terrified, came before me 
 in changing dream and dream. It seemed to me 
 that she tried to call but could not, that she was 
 in some dim place where she believed my eyes could 
 not find her, and that, finally, in her desperation 
 unable to speak and struggling frantically in silence 
 for my attention, she overthrew at last some un- 
 known object with a crash. With a cry I awoke 
 and sprang from the bed. 
 
 The first gray of morning was coming in the 
 window, and birds were twittering and astir. The 
 dim country lay in wholesome peace before me, 
 and yet my mind surged with a living horror of the
 
 88 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 dream. Dully I looked about my room ; the chair 
 upon which I had put my clothes was overturned, 
 and in the middle of the floor, piled one upon an- 
 other, were stacked my ransacked bureau-drawers. 
 Yet there was not a sound in the house. 
 
 As softly as I could I searched room after room; 
 the house was empty from garret to cellar. My 
 visitor, whoever he was, and there could be but 
 little doubt of his probable identity, had made a 
 safe escape. 
 
 I was angry that sleep had held me so soundly, 
 and chagrined to think that this man, whom I 
 would have given my life to lay my hands upon, 
 had stood watching me as I slept, and had coolly 
 searched my room for what he wished to find; but 
 this chagrin was tempered somewhat by the reflec- 
 tion that his search had been in vain ; for he could 
 have come back for nothing save the collar and 
 tie, which he left in my hands, and which I found 
 still safe beneath my pillow. The very fact that 
 he had come back for them gave them added im- 
 portance in my eyes, for certainly their importance 
 to me must have occurred to him, and must have 
 strongly disturbed him, to have made him risk 
 another return. 
 
 Then, too, he must have come alone ; which meant 
 that he had left Nancy in some other care; what 
 care I could not guess, but was thankful for the 
 necessity all the same.
 
 PURSUIT 89 
 
 It seemed to me that my best course of action, 
 at least the only one that presented itself to me 
 at the moment, was to go back again to the county 
 seat, and, with that as a center, to start my search 
 from there. I went about the house closing and 
 locking the windows against my indefinite return. 
 I had lived in it but two days, and yet the place 
 was somehow home; and, as I made it secure, this 
 very home atmosphere heartened me unbeliev- 
 ably. The place was undoubtedly meant for us; 
 and I could not but believe that, sooner or later, 
 my search would be successful, and Nancy and I 
 would some day take up the quiet life there that 
 both of us so sorely needed, and that both of us 
 would find so sweet. As I locked the front door 
 I hesitated about the disposal of the key. It was 
 barely possible that Nancy herself might return in 
 my absence, that, by some ingenuity of her own, 
 she might be able to escape from whatever situa- 
 tion now held or coerced her. It would be bad 
 enough for her to find me gone, at least she should 
 not find the house locked against her. I smiled as 
 I lifted the front door mat and dropped the key 
 under it; any woman would look there for a key, 
 either there or over the lintel of the door. Men, 
 having pockets, do not expect to find the key of 
 a locked house in any other place. 
 
 I turned at the gate to look back at the house. 
 How still and quiet and waiting it looked! I felt
 
 90 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 as Adam must have at the Garden gate; the 
 world's strife before me and paradise behind. 
 But after all an empty paradise is not paradise at 
 all, and I turned my back resolutely upon it, and 
 set forth upon my indefinite journey. By great 
 good fortune I found my nearest neighbor just 
 about to start into town with a wagon load of 
 farm stuff. He looked me over curiously enough, 
 but consented to give me a seat beside him, 
 when I told him who I was and where I lived. 
 He considered it a good opportunity, I think, to 
 satisfy a curiosity, which had evidently for some 
 days been preying upon him. I fear, however, that 
 I proved a poor source of information; I was so 
 busy with my thoughts and plans that only with 
 the greatest effort was I able to answer his constant 
 questioning at all, and, even with all the will in 
 the world, there was very little information that I 
 had it in my power to give. His incredulous sus- 
 picion, when I denied knowing how much had 
 been paid for the farm, would have amused me 
 at any other time; as it was, I made the lame ex- 
 cuse that I was only the tenant of the real pur- 
 chaser; I cared not at all that he did not believe 
 me. 
 
 As we drew into Doylestown a new thought and 
 fear possessed me. If, by that one chance in a 
 hundred, Nancy should return to the house, would 
 she not be frightened and perplexed to find me
 
 PURSUIT 91 
 
 gone? Naturally, she would guess that I had gone 
 in search of her, but she had no means of knowing 
 when I would return. So, as my new neighbor 
 drew up before the freight office, I borrowed an 
 evil office pen and wrote : 
 
 " I have gone to look for you and I think I shall 
 go to New York. A letter or telegram to me at 
 the Gloria Hotel will reach me, and I will come 
 back within a few hours. 
 
 " MASON." 
 
 This I sealed in a lading envelope and gave it 
 to my Jehu. 
 
 " Would you be so kind, neighbor," I said, " as 
 to push this under my front door ? " 
 
 He turned it over in a puzzled sort of way. 
 " Why, yes," he drawled, " certainly, but " 
 
 " Thank you very much," I interrupted, seeing 
 another storm of questions coming; "it is quite 
 important and I know I can depen^ 1 on you. 
 Thank you for the lift, too." And leaving him 
 agape with insatiate curiosity, I hurried away to 
 the passenger platform. 
 
 There, as I had hoped, I found a policeman: 
 most towns so display the force of their constabu- 
 lary to the incoming traveler. This particular 
 policeman I found a very satisfactory one. He 
 was tall and wiry and thin, with a uniform which 
 made but poor pretense of fitting him, and when
 
 92 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 I came upon him he was leaning somnolently against 
 a corner of the station. So that, at first glimpse, 
 my heart sank, only to rise again at his first words, 
 for he was plainly an exile, a down-Easter doing 
 duty in a foreign land. I described Nancy to him, 
 and made some attempt at describing the man in 
 the brown derby. I told him that I had last seen 
 them driving in a red-wheeled buggy, and to it all 
 he listened with a lounging alertness, which was, 
 I knew, the mask of a familiar New England 
 sagacity. 
 
 "No," he said at last, "there ain't any elopers 
 of any description taken train here either yester- 
 day or to-day, and I am on duty about twenty-five 
 hours out of the twenty-four. You see I am chief 
 of police, and expected to do three men's work." 
 He paused and scratched his nose reflectively. " I 
 tell you what I should do though, if I was you. 
 People eloping around in buggies are pretty apt 
 not to go to the most obvious place. Now, about 
 four miles to the east of here is Buckingham, where 
 you can get a train either north or south, on the 
 Pennsylvania, and about ten miles to the west is 
 Souderton, where you can catch a train on another 
 branch. I should say they might have gone to 
 either one of them places ; better try Buckingham, 
 it's nearer." 
 
 ' Thank you," I said ; " I will." 
 
 ' Say," he called after me, as I started off, " good
 
 PURSUIT 93 
 
 plan's to ask around at livery stables." It was a 
 good plan and I should have thought of it myself, 
 had I been myself. I set off now in search of the 
 nearest one. 
 
 " Yes," the proprietor told me, " I did rent out 
 that red-wheeled buggy to a gent yesterday, and 
 a fine state he brought the horse back in. It was 
 all very well to give me a ten-dollar note, but no 
 one can tell how much harm driving like that does 
 to a horse; maybe you don't find out till weeks 
 later. No, the gentleman was all alone; there 
 wasn't no lady at all with him. Sure, I could let 
 you have a rig and driver to take you over to 
 Buckingham." 
 
 As I drove along the red Pennsylvania road to 
 the little town of Buckingham, I tried to picture 
 to myself, as best I could, just what the man in 
 the brown derby had done; I knew that he had 
 hired a horse in Doylestown, that he had driven 
 to our farm and in some manner taken ITancy away 
 with him; but some hours later he had returned 
 alone with the buggy, which had evidently been 
 driven fast and far; therefore he must have left 
 Nancy in some other certain care, probably in the 
 town from which he ultimately meant to take the 
 train. One can't very well lock up a distinguished 
 and beautiful young lady in a village hotel; so that 
 the probability was that he had left her in the 
 care of some trustworthy, private individual;
 
 94 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 under what pretext I could not know, perhaps under 
 none, providing the guardian he chose was de- 
 pendably unscrupulous. 
 
 So at Buckingham I again followed the advice 
 of my exiled policeman, and went first of all to 
 the livery stable, and, to my joy, found out that 
 the red-wheeled buggy had been put up there for 
 an hour the evening before. 
 
 " Why, yes," said the stableman, " your party 
 stopped in here about eight o'clock, and asked if I 
 knew of any one who had lodgings." 
 
 " Was there a lady with him ? " I asked. 
 
 " Lady," he laughed, " sure there was, two on 
 'cm. They had the top up, and I couldn't see them 
 very plain, but I should say one of them was young 
 and slim, the other middle-aged and stoutish. I 
 sent 'em around to Mrs. Lathrop's." 
 
 ' Two ladies," I repeated, puzzled. 
 
 " Sure, only two, and there wasn't hardly room 
 for them. How many was you looking for ? " 
 
 'Two are quite enough," I answered; "I think 
 I'll drive around to Mrs. Lathrop's. They are the 
 friends I am looking for." And I left him star- 
 ing at my recklessly large tip; for here was the 
 third person whom my theory demanded, and with- 
 out whom I could not explain the midnight return 
 of the man in the brown derby.
 
 X 
 
 MRS. LATHROP'S 
 
 MRS. LATHROP'S I found easily enough. 
 It was a formal little white-trimmed yel- 
 low house of two stories, and it looked for all the 
 world as if it had strayed from some toy village. 
 It was set squarely in a little handkerchief of a 
 lawn, and dwarfed and shaded by a towering 
 giant elm. If it had been in the tree instead of 
 under it, it would have made a very presentable 
 bird-house; and Mrs. Lathrop, as she threw open 
 the front door with a jerk and popped out to stand 
 squarely before me on the door-sill, seemed like 
 some small brown bird herself. 
 
 " You rent lodgings, I believe," I said. 
 
 She cocked her head and stood looking at me 
 with her arms a-kimbo, her bright brown eyes 
 searching, I thought, every detail of my appear- 
 ance. " Sometimes to some people," she said ; 
 " very seldom to single gentlemen. Do you 
 smoke? " 
 
 " Not in lodgings," I laughed, " and besides, I 
 am not sure that I am looking for any; but may 
 I come in for a moment ? " 
 
 95
 
 96 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Anything to sell? " she asked. 
 
 I shook my head. " Nothing at all ; but I think 
 I should like some luncheon, if you can give me 
 some. Now I want to ask you a question or so." 
 
 "Question?" she turned abruptly in the little 
 hall. "The census man was here last week, and 
 a suffragette the week before that, and the week 
 before that a young woman who said she was 
 getting statistics on the cost of living. It seems's 
 if I'd answered enough questions to last out a year 
 or so." 
 
 " My questions aren't personal," I explained, " at 
 least not personal to you. But you had some 
 lodgers here last night, I have been informed, who 
 probably left early this morning, and, if you don't 
 mind, I should like to ask you something about 
 them." 
 
 " There, I knew it," she cried ; " I knew very 
 well that something wasn't right, and that some- 
 body would be around pretty soon blaming me for 
 it. What is it you want to know ? Are you some 
 friend of the doctor's ? " 
 
 "The doctor?" 
 
 " Yes, that long-nosed young fellow in charge." 
 " No, I could hardly call myself a friend," I 
 answered, " but there are some things I would like 
 to ask about him and the ladies with him." I was 
 strung and tortured with anxiety, and now that I 
 realized that Nancy had been here but a few short
 
 MRS. LATHROP'S 97 
 
 hours before, I suppose that some reflection of my 
 mental tenseness must have shown itself in my face, 
 or perhaps in some quality of voice. Certainly, as 
 Mrs. Lathrop glanced up at me, her whole manner 
 changed on the instant. 
 
 " Land of love," she said, " there don't a year go 
 by but I get stupider. Here's a young man most 
 starved to death, and I keep him standing in the 
 hall, as if I didn't care whether he ever ate or not. 
 You come right out in the kitchen while I get you 
 some dinner. Don't know's I'll ever have any 
 sense." 
 
 " I think," I protested, " that I shall have to ask 
 my questions first. I am rather worried about 
 those people, and I'm afraid that I could not wait 
 until after dinner to find out about them." 
 
 " Bless your heart, why should you ? If I can't 
 tell a bit of gossip in my kitchen, I certainly couldn't 
 tell it anywhere. Breaking eggs and the news 
 sort of go together. It takes a stronger-minded 
 woman than I am to make any kind of answers 
 with her hands folded in her lap. There's nothing 
 clears the mind up as good as a saucepan." She 
 pushed open the kitchen door as she spoke and we 
 stepped from the dim hall into its flooding sun- 
 light. " You sit right down at the table there and 
 fire away; but, in the first place, how would you 
 rather have your eggs? " 
 
 " It doesn't matter," I answered ; " any way that
 
 98 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 is most convenient. I was told, Mrs. Lathrop, that 
 you put up a gentleman and two ladies here last 
 night." 
 
 " No," she said over her shoulder, " only two 
 ladies, the doctor didn't stay, but he came back for 
 them this morning. I certainly should not have 
 taken them if I had known about them at the go off. 
 Land knows, I need boarders bad enough, but I 
 like them to be good plain every-day boarders, and 
 not unfortunates and their nurses. I know I'll 
 dream about that poor lovely little thing all my 
 days. Do you suppose they're kind to people like 
 that?" 
 
 " People like what? " I faltered. 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop banged down the stove-lid and 
 turned squarely on me. " Suppose you tell me 
 about them first," she said, " and what you want 
 to know about them. I don't mind saying right 
 here that I like your looks, and that I didn't like 
 his; but he paid his bill fair and square enough, 
 and it seems only right you should tell me what 
 you want of them, before I, perhaps, make more 
 trouble for that poor unfortunate child." 
 
 " I am afraid I can only describe one of them 
 plainly to you," said I, " and can give you but a 
 detail or so about the others. What they looked 
 like is one of the things that I wanted to find out 
 from you. I am looking for a man and, two 
 women ; all I know about one of the women is that
 
 MRS. LATHROP'S 99 
 
 she is probably stout and middle-aged, and all I 
 know about the man is that he is nearly as tall 
 as I, has a long nose, and wore either a checked 
 cloth cap or a brown derby." Mrs. Lathrop 
 nodded. 
 
 " And about the young lady ? " she asked. 
 
 " About the young lady I can tell you a great 
 deal. She is not tall ; I suppose you would say 
 that she is barely of medium height. Her eyes 
 are gray or blue or violet, you can never be cer- 
 tain which; and her hair is golden, not yellow 
 golden, but the color of actual gold itself. She 
 I find it is not so easy to describe her after all. 
 But she looks as if she had never grown to what 
 she is, but as if God had made her so all at once, 
 and loved what He made." I stopped, stammering. 
 
 "That will do," said Mrs. Lathrop; "now will 
 you tell me, please, what it is you want with them? " 
 
 " I want to find them," I said ; " I am not quite 
 sure what I shall do with the man or woman. The 
 young lady is my wife." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop stared at me in round-eyed won- 
 der, as if for a moment speech had been taken from 
 her; and across the kitchen table she faced me 
 squarely. " Is that true ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," I said. 
 
 For another moment she looked me in the eyes, 
 then turned to her cooking with a clatter and fury 
 unbelievable in such a little, bird-like person. Pots
 
 ioo THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 slid clattering to the back of the stove, which hissed 
 and steamed with flying hot water, a dish fell from 
 her hands and she stamped upon it recklessly; and 
 of a sudden speech came to her in a perfect torrent 
 " I might have known they lied," she said ; " lied 
 and triple-lied, that's the word. Doctor! He 
 couldn't have doctored a horse; and she's a nurse! 
 I thought when she first came in here, she looked as 
 if she put more peroxide on her hair than on her 
 patients. Nurse, Nurse! Whoever heard of a 
 nurse with a face like a cast-iron lawn dog, and an 
 expression that tried to look somewhere between St. 
 Cecilia and a kitten, and only came out looking as if 
 it belonged to the matron of a police station. Her 
 a nurse, and I left her all night with that poor 
 angel!" 
 
 " Nurse? " said I. " What do you mean? " 
 
 "Oh, I thought you knew, but perhaps you 
 
 don't. He told me first, the blackguard ; and then 
 
 she told me, and kept telling me, that that poor, 
 
 lovely, little thing was insane ; not violent you know, 
 
 or I should never have taken them, but just that 
 
 she had delusions, and that she had got away 
 
 from the place where she was being cured, and that 
 
 they had found her and were taking her back." 
 
 " Damn him ! " said I. " Did he tell you that? " 
 
 " Amen, sir," said Mrs. Lathrop, " and it is just 
 
 what he told me, and she added more to it, that 
 
 ' nurse ' did. And I, who thought all my life that
 
 MRS. LATHROP'S 101 
 
 I had my wits, believed them. Believed them al- 
 most, that is. Thank heaven, I had a grain of 
 sense left. Is your name Mason Ellsworth ? " 
 
 I was striding the room now ; but, with the abrupt 
 question I stopped, my hand almost roughly upon 
 her shoulder. "Yes," I said; "why? Did Nancy 
 give you anything for me, any message that you 
 have been keeping from me?" Mrs. Lathrop 
 winced under my hand and, even in my mad ex- 
 citement, I gathered sense enough to mutter an 
 apology. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right," she said, "if I'd been 
 you, I'd have drowned me, and small loss to a 
 world of sensible folks; just you wait a minute." 
 She dragged a heavy chair across the kitchen floor, 
 and hopping up on it, stood on tiptoes to feel 
 along the high shelf, and reach down a small brown 
 preserve jar. "Here," she said; " take* it" And 
 as I took it and put it on the table, she hopped 
 down again beside me, and taking off the cover with 
 one hand, plunged the other into its brown, shallow 
 depths. " Here," she said, " is the letter she gave 
 me. Heaven only knows when the poor dear found 
 a chance to write it, with that fat cat following 
 around every minute. But she was clever too, and 
 slid it into my lap this morning under her very 
 nose, with a whisper to give it to you if you 
 should come, and to write you if you should not. 
 The woman caught her at the last part of it, and
 
 102 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 took the trouble to tell me later that it was all a 
 part of her delusion; and I was idiot enough 
 almost to believe her, and to have sat here all this 
 morning, twiddling my thumbs, when I ought to 
 have been down at the telegraph office. But I kept 
 my mouth shut about the letter, because I was 
 afraid it might get the little lady into trouble; and 
 delusions or not, I liked her as much as I didn't 
 like the other one the minute I set eyes upon her." 
 I unfolded the scrap of paper which she handed 
 me. Nancy's note was pencil written and on an 
 irregular bit of paper, evidently torn from the cov- 
 ering of a closet shelf or the lining of a bureau 
 drawer. It read : 
 
 * They came while you were away. I did my 
 best, but they took me. I think we are on our way 
 to New York. They are pretending I am insane. 
 Follow us there if you can, but be careful, for I 
 fear, too, for your safety. He is very angry and 
 capable of almost anything. He calls himself, now, 
 Doctor Morrison, but, as you may have guessed by 
 this time, he is my " 
 
 " Was this all she gave you ? " said I, glancing 
 up. 
 
 " Why, yes," said Mrs. Lathrop. 
 
 I held the note to her, face down. " Have you 
 any paper like this in the house ? " I asked. 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop looked at it closely, feeling its
 
 MRS. LATHROP'S 103 
 
 quality between her finger and thumb. " It looks 
 like shelf paper," she said after a moment, " and 
 I have it pretty much all over the house." 
 
 " Then," I asked, " may I see the room where 
 the ladies slept last night? " 
 
 "Certainly," said Mrs. Lathrop, and led the way 
 up-stairs, where she pushed open the door of a 
 rather small, sunny room. " This is the room I 
 always give to two ladies staying together," she said. 
 " It is bright and cheerful and there are two beds." 
 
 Bright and cheerful it certainly was. Bureaus, 
 beds, chairs and tables were alike white enameled; 
 and the gay chintz window curtains matched the 
 large-figured paper of the walls. 
 
 " May I look around ? " I asked. 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop nodded. There was only one 
 closet, and on its two shelves white paper of the 
 same quality as that I carried in my hand lay un- 
 disturbed, and in each empty drawer of the two 
 enameled bureaus I found fitted sheets, each, alas, 
 intact. For a moment I stood puzzled, looking 
 rather hopelessly about the room. This paper must 
 have come from somewhere, I thought, and yet 
 Then I noticed a small table by each bed, little 
 square stands that people use, I believe, for a night 
 light or drinking water, each with a shallow drawer 
 for near-at-hand necessities. And as Mrs. Lathrop 
 stood interestedly watching me, I pulled open the 
 drawer of one, and found it absolutely bare.
 
 io 4 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Were not these lined too ? " I asked. 
 
 For answer she pulled open the drawer of the 
 other, and held up a small oblong of the white paper. 
 
 " But this one is empty," I said. 
 
 " Then it is empty since last night," Mrs. Lathrop 
 answered ; " for I went over the room carefully 
 yesterday morning." 
 
 Here, then, was where Nancy had found paper 
 for her note. That, at least, was pretty sure; but 
 nevertheless my heart sank with a great disap- 
 pointment. The letters of the note in my hand were 
 written stragglingly, and once one line actually 
 rose and lapped over the line above it, as if it had 
 been written by some blind person. Evidently 
 Nancy had been watched very closely indeed, so that 
 her only opportunity for writing this note to me had 
 been some time during the terrors of her long 
 night, and she had written in the dark. In the dark, 
 too, I imagined, she must have torn away the writ- 
 ten portion of the sheet, taking her chance as she 
 could, perhaps trembling with the slight tearing 
 sound of the stiff paper, and in her nervous haste 
 leaving a portion of her note still in the drawer. 
 No, after all, she would not quite have done that; 
 if she had been careful enough to write to me, it 
 did not seem probable that she would have left a 
 sheet with a torn corner behind, as a certain indica- 
 tion of what she had done, should her guarding 
 dragon look through the room in the morning.
 
 MRS. LATHROP'S 105 
 
 I sat down for a moment on the edge of the bed, 
 trying to imagine what she would have done. Then 
 I glanced over at the fireplace; it was clean and 
 empty. 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop was watching me with interest. 
 " No," she said, shaking her head ; " no burnt 
 paper." 
 
 Perhaps, I thought, the dragon did find the rest 
 of the sheet; but if she had done that, she would 
 have suspected the note itself, and would either have 
 got it away from Nancy or questioned Mrs. 
 Lathrop about it. It seemed more probable then, 
 as I thought it over, that Nancy had softly slid the 
 sheet from the drawer, and had drawn it under the 
 bed-clothes, where she might crumple it to a ball 
 in silence. I got up and leaned out of the window ; 
 there was not a scrap of paper upon the little 
 lawn. 
 
 " What are you looking for now ? " asked Mrs. 
 Lathrop. 
 
 "I thought," said I, "that she might have 
 crumpled up the rest of the sheet and thrown it out 
 of the window." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop had been standing, now she sat 
 down with a gasp. " Now, for certain, you'll think 
 I'm the biggest idiot in the world," she said. 
 " There was a little ball of paper on the lawn this 
 morning. I suppose I am a tidy soul, Mr. Mason, 
 for I didn't think anything about that paper at all,
 
 io6 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 except that it was on my lawn, and I put it dear 
 knows, I am afraid to tell you into the stove." 
 
 The little bird-like face was pink with self -indig- 
 nation, and I think her disappointment was only less 
 than my own. 
 
 "Well, it can't be helped," I said. "At least 
 we know now how the note was written, and I can 
 tell you I am glad of any news at all. What is the 
 first train I can get from here to New York or Phila- 
 delphia?" 
 
 " There isn't one in either direction for an hour 
 and a half," said Mrs. Lathrop, " and, good sakes, 
 we have both of us forgotten about dinner."
 
 XI 
 
 THE GUESTS 
 
 OVER my luncheon, or dinner, as Mrs. Lathrop 
 preferred to call it, my hostess told me 
 everything that she could remember. She was 
 a keen little woman and a sympathetic one, and 
 when I told her that Nancy and I had been mar- 
 ried but a day or so, her indignation, already very 
 much excited, knew no bounds. She said that 
 about ten oclock on the evening before, the red- 
 wheeled buggy had drawn up before her gate, and 
 that a man describing himself as Doctor Morrison 
 had rung her bell and asked if she had lodgings for 
 the night for two ladies. He himself, he had ex- 
 plained, could only stay for supper and would re- 
 turn for them in the morning. 
 
 " I didn't like him very much when I first saw 
 him," she said, " and I certainly shouldn't have 
 taken him all by himself, and so late at night. 
 But, after all, Mr. Ellsworth, I have lodgings to 
 let, and, late or not, I could hardly turn two ladies 
 away from the door; but I should very much have 
 liked to before we got through supper. 
 
 " As soon as he found I had a room he went back 
 107
 
 io8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 to the buggy and whispered for a while, and then 
 
 the two ladies got out of the carriage and came 
 
 into my hall, the doctor and the nurse, as I can't 
 
 help calling them, walking on each side of the 
 
 young lady. It was not until the doctor had gone 
 
 to put his horse in the stable, that I really got a 
 
 good look at the other two. Dear, dear, but it 
 
 puzzled me. The young lady (and you were right 
 
 in saying that she was lovely), looked white and 
 
 frightened and as if she had been crying; and her 
 
 pretty dress was torn at the neck. And all the 
 
 while, as they stood there in the hall, the other 
 
 woman kept a hand on her arm and looked as 
 
 if she was daring her to say a word. I tell you I 
 
 didn't like it at all, but here they were, and I 
 
 showed them up to their room. Pretty soon the 
 
 doctor came back, and I liked things still less. 
 
 He's an ugly one, is the doctor, and you can take 
 
 my word for it. Have you ever seen him? " 
 
 " No," I answered ; " only once, vaguely, and 
 in the moonlight." 
 
 " You know then," said Mrs. Lathrop, " that 
 he is almost as tall as you are, with great heavy 
 sloping shoulders and queer broad stumpy hands. 
 His hair was black and not very thick and grew 
 down low in the middle of his forehead, in what 
 I think is called a widow's peak, and what with 
 the long nose under it and eyes too small and near 
 together and that queer, mean, little baby mouth
 
 THE GUESTS 109 
 
 of his; I can tell you I was sorry I hadn't slammed 
 the door in his face." 
 
 Here at last was some picture of the man to go 
 upon. 
 
 "How was he dressed?" I asked. 
 
 " I don't exactly know," said Mrs. Lathrop. " I 
 remember that he did have a brown derby and that 
 his clothes were brown too; smooth, I think, and 
 with a narrow stripe. He wore a ring with a 
 sort of pointed purple stone in it. All his things 
 looked as if he had plenty of money. Still, I 
 think I hated the woman more. Perhaps a woman 
 always does hate a woman more, when she's hating 
 at all. I thought she was fat at first, but she 
 wasn't, only heavy and broad and strong, with a 
 square mannish face and a silly mop of chorus- 
 girl hair over it. 
 
 " No one said very much while the, were eating 
 their supper. The two of them had the girl be- 
 tween them, and talked across her, while she said 
 nothing. Once or twice the doctor raised his thin 
 eyebrows at me, as if he meant me to understand 
 something he didn't want to say at the moment. 
 He had caught me looking at the girl, poor dear, 
 I suppose, and all he could think of was to make 
 a mystery of it; for it was pretty plain that she 
 was frightened and unhappy, and once, when she 
 raised her hands from her lap, I noticed a red 
 mark about her wrists, as if they had been tied
 
 i io THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 together by a cord. So, when he came out into 
 the kitchen to pay me, I asked him about it. 
 
 " ' Perhaps I should have told you about it, Mrs. 
 Lathrop,' he said, ' but there are things that one 
 does not speak of unless it is absolutely necessary. 
 This young lady has run away from a sanatorium, 
 and her nurse and I are bringing her back. It 
 would have been better if some one of her family 
 could have come with us, but they are all abroad at 
 present.' 
 
 " ' Do you mean to say/ I asked him, ' that 
 that lovely little thing is out of her mind ? ' 
 
 " ' Only slightly, Mrs. Lathrop,' he told me; 'we 
 hope to have her well in a year or so. Absolute 
 quiet and modern treatment work wonders, you 
 know. She imagines that she has been married, 
 and will probably tell you so if she gets the 
 chance.' 
 
 'Well, she wears a wedding-ring,' said I. 
 That made him scowl at me, Mr. Ellsworth. It 
 was pretty plain he thought I was too inquisitive; 
 but I am not one that minds other people's scowls 
 much, and I guess he saw that he was doing the 
 wrong thing. So, finally, he told me that they 
 let her wear it to keep her quiet, and I more than 
 half believed it, because you couldn't tell from her 
 face whether she was married or not." 
 
 " Then he went in and whispered to that nurse
 
 THE GUESTS in 
 
 a few minutes, and went out without saying an- 
 other word to me. Pretty soon after that the 
 ladies went up-stairs to bed." Mrs. Lathrop 
 paused and sighed, and I, too, sat silent, impo- 
 tently angry at the thought of the night that Nancy 
 must have passed, and must pass again, for how 
 long I could not say. I looked up to find Mrs. 
 Lathrop staring at me in astonishment. 
 
 "What is it? "I asked. 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop chuckled. " Do you know, Mr. 
 Ellsworth, that all this time you have been eating 
 dinner in your gloves ? " 
 
 " Why, so I have," I said, " but I am quite 
 through now, so the harm is done." 
 
 For two days I had forgotten my hands, and this 
 .sudden reminder startled me, bringing back with 
 a rush, as it did, the accustomed pain of my afflic- 
 tion; and yet this time a new thought and feeling 
 mingled with the bitter old one; for I glanced 
 down at my gloved hands and remembered how 
 strong they were, with what a compensation, poor 
 though it was, of unusual physical power they were 
 endowed, and the reflection heartened me. I would 
 bring my purpose to the level of my physical effi- 
 ciency, and, matching sheer strength with sheer 
 determination, knew that no world as small as this 
 could hide my love away from me, nor him, who 
 had taken and frightened her, from the inevitable
 
 112 
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 terror of my grasp. In all my life I could re- 
 member putting forth my strength but once, and 
 then it was my boy's strength. 
 
 The picture flashed grimly before me now, as I 
 sat gazing at my gloved hands, standing on the 
 instant clear and distinct before my mental vision, 
 as such pictures will. It had happened at school, 
 when I was a second-former and fourteen years old, 
 I think. I was a new-comer, and, as I have said, 
 not popular. One of the sixth formers, a great 
 meddlesome fellow and the terror of the smaller 
 boys, had stolen into my room at night, to drag 
 me out to the hazing that most new boys, and all 
 unpopular ones, received. I was asleep, and he 
 had pinioned me so close and so suddenly, that 
 I awoke with a start, and yet was unable to strike ; 
 but in the darkness and in the confusion my fingers 
 met his throat and only tightened there, it seemed 
 to me, for a moment. Yet he had fallen across 
 me in the. dark, with twitching body and breath 
 that came so raspingly that, as I grew wider awake, 
 it filled me with concern, and I had struggled from 
 beneath him and made a light. His eyes were 
 half open, half shut, and his face strange and 
 blotchy. I remember that I called the master of 
 our floor, that there was a scurrying of feet and a 
 general lighting of lights, and a silly confusion. 
 The doctor had come and spoken of " crushed 
 bones in the throat." He was around again in a
 
 THE GUESTS 113 
 
 week or so ; but only the fact that it had happened in 
 my own room saved me from expulsion. I could 
 get no one to believe that I had but gripped him for 
 a moment, when I was stupid with sleep. But it 
 was the last physical trouble I had in school, and 
 I had never used my strength to the utmost since 
 that time. It had grown, I knew, but I never 
 thought much about it; my hands had made me 
 shy, and though I had hoped in vain for friends, 
 at least I had never had an enemy, never had 
 an enemy until now; but hate had come into my 
 life almost hand in hand with love. 
 
 I looked up to find Mrs. Lathrop staring at me 
 across the table. She colored, but kept her eyes 
 bravely upon mine. 
 
 " If I was you, Mr. Ellsworth," she said, " I 
 should go a little easy. That doctor deserves a 
 good beating right now, but it won't, help either you 
 or anybody else to kill him." 
 
 " Kill him ? " I questioned. 
 
 " Yes," she said ; " isn't that what you were 
 thinking about? You have been sitting there for 
 the last five minutes looking like battle, murder and 
 sudden death." 
 
 " I don't wonder the doctor thought you ob- 
 servant, Mrs. Lathrop," I said. " It's all right, 
 though. I'll remember not to kill him, although 
 it will be pretty hard, once I get my hands on him." 
 
 " Well, I hope you do give him a good scare."
 
 ir 4 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 "You have asked me why I did not take my 
 gloves off, Mrs. Lathrop. I keep them on because 
 people find my hands unpleasant." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop smiled incredulously. " Do just 
 as you like," she said, " but I shouldn't be afraid 
 / should think any such thing, if I were you." 
 
 I stripped one glove away, because I had had 
 enough of the subject. To my surprise her face 
 showed no flicker of astonishment. 
 
 " Well, take off the other," she said; " they don't 
 trouble me any. What a queer young man you 
 are! Do you expect a woman of my age to faint 
 because your hands are a little marked? Some 
 folks have stick-out ears, but they don't go around 
 in ear tabs." 
 
 I took off my other glove. 
 
 " When did Mrs. Ellsworth give you the note ? " 
 I asked, after another little pause. 
 
 " This morning, just before the doctor came back 
 for them. The nurse was looking at her watch 
 and getting a little uneasy, I think; for every now 
 and then she got up and went over to the window 
 to look up the road. It was on one of these win- 
 dow trips she made, and while she had her back 
 turned, that the young lady slid the note into my 
 hand. I was going through the room, when she 
 stopped me with her finger on her lips. I smiled 
 and kept quiet, because, as I say, whether she was 
 right in her mind or not, I liked her. And when
 
 
 Will you please give him this?
 
 THE GUESTS 115 
 
 I stopped she put one hand up to her hair and 
 drew out that note, which was all rolled up like 
 a pencil. * If a gentleman called Mason Ellsworth 
 comes,' she said, ' will you please give him this ? ' 
 And to please her I took it and smiled again. She 
 would have told me more, I think; but just then 
 that woman turned from the window and saw 
 us together. In about five minutes the doctor 
 came, and though she tried hard she didn't get 
 another chance to speak to me, and, for that mat- 
 ter, it wasn't barely five minutes before the two 
 of them started with her to the station, which is 
 \vhere you'd better be starting now, Mr. Ellsworth, 
 to be sure and catch your train. There is one in 
 twenty minutes for Philadelphia, and unless they 
 started early just to fool me, it was a train for 
 Philadelphia they took themselves." 
 
 '* You've been very good to me, Mrs. Lathrop," 
 I said, " and I do not know what I can ever do to 
 repay your kindness both to me and to my wife." 
 
 " I do," said Mrs. Lathrop. " You can write to 
 me when you have found her."
 
 XII 
 
 THE COLLAR AND TIE 
 
 FOR a happy man green fields and country 
 lanes, pastoral sights and the murmurous 
 harmonics of nature lend themselves as a fitting 
 and tender glory to his happiness. Serenities 
 echo back serenities, and the great and happy heart 
 of nature beats in blissful accord with his own. 
 But for 1 a man whose happiness has been dis- 
 turbed, whose life has been touched by care or 
 sorrow, these accorded sights and sounds of the 
 country are oppressive madness, and the very 
 greatness of their eternal quality plagues and vexes 
 him the more. For the country is never out of 
 tune with itself; its music is one vast elemental 
 chord and has been the same for all time. So the 
 man out of tune with himself and with the world 
 finds the clanging discords of the many-noted city 
 a shock of vigorous relief. Here is not one great 
 melody, but rather the vigorous uproar of a 
 thousand tunes ; where the sane country would have 
 driven him mad, the mad city shouts him back to 
 sanity. 
 
 My little cross-roads local drew into Philadel- 
 116
 
 THE COLLAR AND TIE 117 
 
 phia like a farmer coming to the fair. And as I 
 stepped into the busy turmoil of the station and 
 shouldered my way through the hurrying im- 
 personal crowds, every moral fiber in me took 
 tonic and vigor from the hurly-burly about. A 
 wise man has called man's relations with his fel- 
 low beings " antagonistic cooperation," and the 
 phrase is a miracle of inspiration, for we shrink 
 from the touch or too-intimate glance of those 
 about us in instinctive resentment, and yet no 
 healthy person wishes himself very distant from 
 this human intimacy. Each one of us feels that 
 he seeks his lonely goal alone, yet feels that he 
 has lost his way, unless he moves with the crowd 
 down the same great road. And even to communi- 
 cate with those about us the simplest thought is 
 only half told in many words. When all is said 
 and done, love is the only language that ever makes 
 one being comprehensible to another. With 
 Nancy I had been happy for the first time in my 
 life; with' Nancy gone, this jostle of humanity 
 awoke in me a militant confidence and a potent 
 belief that I should find mine own. 
 
 It was, therefore, with almost a feeling of elation 
 that I set about my task, and, as is usual with con- 
 fidence, my first move was the right one. 
 
 " I wonder if you remember," I asked the Pull- 
 man agent, " a man in a brown derby hat who 
 came to you this morning, and probably wanted a
 
 ii8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 private compartment to New York; a tall man 
 with sloping shoulders, a large nose and eyes set 
 too near together. He was dressed in a brown 
 suit with a narrow strip, and may or may not have 
 had two ladies with him." 
 
 " Sure," said the agent ; " what about him ? " 
 
 " I want to make sure of him," I said. " Where 
 did he go to New York ? " 
 
 " That's where he engaged his state-room to," 
 said the agent. " You mean the man with the in- 
 sane young lady and the trained nurse." 
 
 " Oh, he told you about that, did he ? " 
 
 " Yes ; you see we have only one state-room, and 
 that was engaged ; so he explained about the young 
 lady to me, and I moved the other people. t We 
 have to do that once in a while. It saves the other 
 passengers annoyance." 
 
 " Doubtless," I answered, and hurried off to get 
 my ticket for New York. 
 
 I had only a few minutes to wait for the train, 
 and it was a good one. 
 
 New York, when I got there, I found in 
 the drizzle of a late spring rain. It was only about 
 half-past five, but under the dark sky seemed al- 
 ready evening; so that I made what haste I could 
 to find a quiet little hotel I knew, where a com- 
 fortable room could be had at a small figure, and 
 where I felt enough at home to compose myself 
 quietly for the task before me. My best working
 
 THE COLLAR AND TIE 119 
 
 clue, it seemed to me, was the torn collar in my 
 pocket; and that evening after supper I took a 
 classified telephone directory up with me, and made 
 a careful list of those laundries which seemed near 
 enough to the fashionable zone to justify the 
 mental picture I had of my man. I realized, of 
 course, that this list might omit the place I was 
 looking for, but there was a strong probability that 
 it did not, and the very making of it gave me some- 
 thing comfortably definite to work on. I cut, 
 and revised and added to it ; but prune it as I would, 
 when I went to bed that night, my note-book held 
 the formidable array of over sixty names. I had 
 an appalling day's work ahead of me, an Augean 
 task that haunted my dreams, and brought me down 
 to breakfast in the morning to a dining-room where 
 the waiters still blinked with sleepiness, and hud- 
 dled, nondescript scrub-women were but finishing 
 their aromatic task. This was a dreary enough 
 beginning to my day, but coffee heartened me, and 
 outdoors the new-washed world preened itself re- 
 splendently in the tender brilliance of the spring 
 sunshine. 
 
 I walked to the nearest corner and stood there 
 taking deep breaths of the winey air as I watched 
 the streets for a vacant taxicab. Taxicabs are a 
 luxury I am not much given to indulging in, but 
 the work before me imperatively demanded one, if 
 it was ever to be finished. I had arranged my list
 
 120 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 in some sort of plan; but, even so, I must travel 
 far and make many detours. In the meantime, 
 as I stood waiting, I gathered myself together for 
 the work of the day. Few people, I suppose, ac- 
 tually realize that New York City is one of the 
 finest coast resorts in the world. Its very internal 
 greatness has made them forget the natural beauties 
 of its situation. But as I stood there on the corner 
 taking great breaths of the scented May-time, a 
 little, sturdy, swirling breeze dropped from the 
 heights above me, which was as redolent of salt 
 and the tang of open sea as any breeze that ever 
 swept in from ocean through the Narrows to stir 
 the ancient solitudes of old Manhattan Island. And 
 in spite of all my tense anxiety and distress, this 
 illusive, magic potion of sea and spring awoke that 
 indefinable something in me which comes to every 
 man, once or twice in the year, that vague whis- 
 per from his own soul, perhaps, as illusory and 
 faint and fleeting as a breath upon glass, that 
 seems to promise, for the moment, to make clear 
 the mystery of life itself, and in the moment is 
 gone, to leave him only a reasonless impression 
 of some power and faith and beauty beyond his 
 daily ken. Strangely enough I found myself lis- 
 tening half-expectantly for the words of a song 
 that for a moment I could not recall ; then suddenly 
 I knew what they were, that little, soaring, all-tri- 
 umphant song of Pippa's :
 
 THE COLLAR AND TIE 121 
 
 ' The year's at the spring 
 And day's at the morn ; 
 Morning's at seven; 
 The hillside's dew-pearled ; 
 The lark's on the wing; 
 The snail's on the thorn : 
 God's in His heaven 
 All's right with the world!" 
 
 Nancy was lost but I should find her; wherever 
 she was, I knew that she thought of me and loved 
 me; knew that in spite of pain and sorrow and 
 suffering all was right with the world. 
 
 Because he was dour and glum and dirty, I let 
 one driver with a perfectly good taxi pass me un- 
 signaled. His successor I chose with satisfaction; 
 for he was a smiling and rosy young fellow, as 
 spick and span and debonair as the driver of an 
 English four-in-hand, and, like that mighty person, 
 bore himself with a jaunty, assertive professional- 
 ism and sported a boutonniere of violets. 
 
 " Are you game for a job that may take us al- 
 most all day? " I asked him. 
 
 " Right-O," said the driver, and threw open the 
 door. 
 
 I am afraid that we broke the speed law contin- 
 ually, but a thousand others must have been break- 
 ing it too; all the world goes faster and more 
 vigorously on such a day. We dodged in and out 
 of heavy traffic, skidded about corners, and
 
 122 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 stopped, when perforce we must stop, with a 
 miraculous and not unpleasant abruptness. It got 
 to be a kind of routine; as I got out at one place 
 I would give him the number of the next, and hav- 
 ing made my inquiries would find the tonneau door 
 thrown open for me, and the cab leaping forward 
 even as I sprang into it. And although place after 
 place I drew blank, yet we seemed to move forward 
 with such a swift fatality, that no single failure, 
 or series of failures, seemed important or discour- 
 aging. 
 
 Once, in the neighborhood of Madison Square, 
 we made a detour to visit a haberdasher, whose 
 name the scarf bore; but there, also, I failed. I 
 was right, they told me, in supposing that they 
 made few ties of one design; they had made only 
 twelve of this particular silk, but it was a year 
 since they had had it in stock, and they could not in 
 the least recall the customers who had bought them. 
 Indeed, they sold many things to people who were 
 not rated as regular customers of the firm, for 
 their reputation was somewhat national, and 
 transient visitors in New York from all parts of 
 the country were apt to drop in and make a few 
 purchases, as a regular part of their schedule of 
 " doing the town." 
 
 " But if you could in some way find out the 
 gentleman's name, sir," the manager politely told 
 me, " we should be very glad to inform you whether
 
 THE COLLAR AND TIE 123 
 
 or not the gentleman is on our books, and perhaps 
 supply you with his address." 
 
 This I considered good-natured of the manager, 
 and more than I had any right to expect; for the 
 torn tie and my possession of it evidently made 
 him curious, and yet I neither told how I came 
 by it, nor why I was so anxious to find its owner; 
 and in addition I did not trade there myself, so I 
 think it must have been the day which had some- 
 thing to do with his unusual attitude. 
 
 It was not long after this, however, that I first 
 picked up the trail of the laundry I was looking for. 
 I had got well up-town, and the distances be- 
 tween the stops were growing shorter and shorter, 
 when I found a man to whom my collar and its 
 mark of M. 48 meant something. 
 
 " That wasn't done here," he said, " but I can 
 tell you where it was done. I happen to know, for 
 I was once foreman in the place. You go to 
 Slater's, on Park Avenue, between Seventy-fifth and 
 Seventy-sixth Streets, and they will tell you whom 
 that collar belongs to in two jiffies." 
 
 " Speed her up," I said to my driver. And al- 
 though it seemed to me that he was going more 
 slowly than before, yet I think he must really have 
 been hurrying; for we were stopped at Sixty-eighth 
 Street by a traffic policeman, who lectured him long 
 and with impassioned fervor, and told us the only 
 reasons why we were not arrested was that he
 
 424 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 had never seen my driver before, and that for the 
 moment he couldn't be spared from his beat. 
 Through it all I fidgeted like a man going to catch 
 an ocean steamer; for, now that this part of my 
 search was so nearly at an end, I became suddenly 
 impatient and filled with a new anxiety. Slater, 
 I thought, might be going out at any moment and 
 we would not find him. He might be even going 
 into the country, so that I could not see him that 
 day; and perhaps no one else in the establishment 
 would have the information I wanted, or having 
 it would dare to give it in the proprietor's ab- 
 sence. 
 
 With a sudden twist the taxicab drew up before 
 the number I sought. But evidently there had been 
 some mistake, for the place was a confectioner's 
 shop. 
 
 " Can you tell me," I asked the cashier, with an 
 abruptness that must have surprised her, " the 
 address of Slater's laundry? I was told it was on 
 this block." 
 
 She made change for a customer before reply- 
 ing. 
 
 "It used to be right here," she said, "but he 
 went out of business a month ago. There ain't 
 any Slater's laundry."
 
 XIII 
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS 
 
 IT was a possibility that had never occurred to 
 me, and came to me much as if I had stretched 
 out my hand for some tangible object of which I 
 was perfectly certain and found only the mockery 
 of illusive shadows. "Gone out of business!" 
 The thing seemed incredible. 
 
 "Do you actually mean that?" I asked after a 
 moment, " or hasn't he just moved to some other 
 place?" 
 
 " I don't know," said the cashier. "Of course 
 I never saw him myself. I only came in here from 
 our down-town branch after the place was in work- 
 ing order. But what they told me was that he had 
 gone out of business." 
 
 " Well, what's his home address? " I asked. 
 
 " You've got me." All this in asides as she me- 
 chanically made change for an intermittent stream 
 of customers. 
 
 " But he must get letters here that you have to 
 redirect. Where do you send them?" 
 
 " No, he doesn't. They never get this far. All 
 the redirecting is done in the post-office, I guess. 
 
 125
 
 126 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 Most firms send down a rubber stamp with their 
 new address on when they move, you know. It 
 saves time, and besides, it's safer." 
 
 " I suppose I could get his address from there," 
 I said, rather hopelessly. 
 
 The cashier was evidently a little bored. " No, 
 you couldn't, Mister," she said, looking with ab- 
 sent satisfaction at her finger-nails ; " the post- 
 office never gives out an address. But I'll tell you 
 what you could do. You could just send your bill in 
 to this address, and the post-office will see that it 
 reaches him somehow." 
 
 " Thank you," I said ; " I suppose that will have 
 to do." 
 
 As far as I could see, that was the only course 
 left to me at the moment; so I had my taxi take 
 me back to the Hotel Gloria, and there I wrote 
 Mr. Slater a letter asking if he could make an ap- 
 pointment to see me on a matter of the greatest, 
 importance. This once posted, I w r as at a loss 
 what to do next. I knew I could not get an an- 
 swer before twenty-four hours, and that there was 
 a great possibility that I should not even get an 
 answer then. In the meantime I felt every fleet- 
 ing second precious and inactivity an unendurable 
 torture. I had inquired the evening before, and 
 this morning, and when I had come in, for any 
 message from Nancy, and had met expected disap- 
 pointment. To hear from her here meant, I knew,
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS 127 
 
 that she had got home again, the one stray chance 
 in a million; yet, half unconsciously, I hoped 
 for it. And every " nothing for you, Mr. Ells- 
 worth "of the hotel clerk's was fresh disappoint- 
 ment. Now, as I paced my little bedroom, I 
 racked my brains for some further activity to fill 
 the day, for surely, it seemed to me, there must 
 be many ways of finding Nancy if I could only 
 think of them. Yet I had but two clues, as far 
 as I could see: one, my rather uncertain knowl- 
 edge of the appearance of Nancy's escort, and the 
 other the collar and tie in my pocket. I could 
 think of nowhere that I might inquire in a place 
 as large as New York City for these people I 
 sought. To be sure, I might advertise for them, 
 but such an advertisement would be just as apt 
 to fall under the notice of the people who had 
 taken her as under that of some other person who 
 might chance to be able to direct me to them ; and 
 above all things I did not wish to frighten Nancy's 
 abductors, nor to serve any such open challenge 
 upon them. Then it occurred to me that at least 
 there could be no harm in advertising for the 
 whereabouts of the illusive Mr. Slater, and that 
 there was still time to get such an advertisement 
 into the late afternoon papers. So for an hour I 
 went from newspaper office to newspaper office, 
 arranging for the insertion of this journalistic 
 arrow I was shooting into the air.
 
 128 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Information is desired as to the present where- 
 abouts of Oscar Slater, late of 6 Park Avenue. 
 Address Mr. Tyler, Hotel Gloria." 
 
 I also arranged that my advertisement should ap- 
 pear in three morning editions. At the Gloria they 
 had known me for some time, and the desk clerk 
 readily agreed to my innocent subterfuge of " Mr. 
 Tyler." 
 
 I was at dinner when the first and only answer 
 came. The desk clerk brought it in to my table 
 himself. 
 
 " How did this come ? " I asked him. 
 
 " By messenger," he told me. " I meant to keep 
 the kid so that you could question him, but as soon 
 as I had receipted for it, and turned my back a 
 moment to get some one his room key, the little 
 imp slipped out. I am sorry I was so careless." 
 
 " Well, it can't be helped," I said, and tore open 
 the envelope. The note inside was type-written 
 and on a single, unfolded sheet of paper. " If Mr. 
 Tyler will come this evening," it read, " to the 
 saloon on the northwest corner of Seventh Avenue 
 and Fifth Street, and carry a book under his arm 
 for identification, he will meet some one who will 
 tell him, for a consideration, the present where- 
 abouts of Oscar Slater." There was no signature. 
 "What do you think of that?" I asked, as I 
 passed it to the hotel clerk. 
 
 He glanced it over and laughed. " I think," he
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS 129 
 
 said, " that it is a palpable fake. It's from some 
 crook who probably makes his living by answering 
 just such advertisements as yours. He is at the 
 other end of this thing and, without the slightest 
 information, is going to take a flyer at trimming 
 you. Who is this Slater, anyhow? There isn't 
 anything mysterious about him, is there ? " 
 
 "Mysterious? No," I said. "Slater is a man 
 who till six weeks ago kept a laundry on Park 
 Avenue, and, as I couldn't find him there, I ad- 
 vertised for him; but there is nothing mysterious 
 about him or his disappearance, as far as I know." 
 
 " Well," said the clerk, " that about settles it. 
 This Johnny who wrote the note evidently thinks 
 that there is something mysterious, and has an- 
 swered in kind; which proves that in the first place 
 he doesn't know anything about it, and in the sec- 
 ond place that he is a crook. So that lets him out." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," I replied ; " I believe I'll go." 
 
 " Well, if you're only looking to get your throat 
 cut," the clerk laughed, "go right along; don't let 
 me stop you. But as for little Rufus, the brass 
 horses of Xerxes couldn't drag me down there. 
 Still, I'll lend you a gun if you must go." 
 
 " No," I said, " I don't want a gun. But you 
 can lend me a book if you want to." 
 
 "Better take one," the clerk protested. But as 
 I shook my head, I saw him glance down, half un- 
 consciously, at my gloved hands.
 
 i 3 o THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 "That's it," I said; "I think I can take care of 
 myself." 
 
 The clerk flushed uncomfortably. " I suppose 
 you can," he said; " come on out, and I'll give you 
 the book." 
 
 So it was with a copy of the American Hotel 
 Directory under my arm that I started out for 
 Seventh Avenue. 
 
 As I half expected, my rendezvous was a dirty 
 one. Only three men were in the place as I came 
 in, and I sank down gingerly into a sprung chair, 
 by a little, grimy, wet-topped table. At the creak 
 of my chair the bartender turned from rummaging 
 a shelf behind the bar and brought his small, watery 
 eyes to bear upon me. He was an unpleasant bar- 
 tender, who evidently drank much of the liquor 
 he dispensed, and whose great and bulbous nose 
 was like some poisonous fire, which had broken out 
 in the lurid smolder of the wrecked face. 
 
 "What's yours?" he asked, in a hoarse whisper 
 that was evidently his natural voice. 
 
 I pondered. If it were true, as the clerk thought, 
 that I was brought here on the chance that I 
 might be worth the plucking, it behoved me to go 
 warily. Even this dreary wreck with a drop or 
 two of chloral could make the strength that I relied 
 upon useless. 
 
 " I'll take a small bottle of claret, if you have 
 it," I replied at length. Wine has the advantage
 
 This was the Reverend Mr. Stevens
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS 131 
 
 of coming sealed; whisky or beer in the open glass 
 may be drugged behind the bar. 
 
 " Sure, we got it," whispered the bartender; and, 
 indeed, to my surprise, I found the claret amazingly 
 good. 
 
 Thus far, save for the bartender, no one had 
 taken the slightest notice of either my entrance 
 or my order. The three men at the bar stood lean- 
 ing over their drinks with their backs toward me. 
 Now, as I set down my glass, one of them turned 
 and glanced at me hastily. He found my eyes 
 upon him, and his glance only flickered over me 
 for a second. Then again he turned his back 
 upon me, with his head bent low and his shoulders 
 hunched about his ears. I thought I heard a 
 muttered word or so, then, still without turning 
 his face toward me, he left the other two, and half 
 slunk, half slouched out of the bar. Whether or 
 not he had recognized me I could not tell, but I had 
 known him on the instant. There could not be the 
 least doubt about it. The washed-out, pimply face, 
 the wavering blue eyes, and the long neck with its 
 disproportionate, gulping Adam's apple had been 
 too vividly impressed upon my memory ever in 
 life to be forgotten. What he did here, I did not 
 know; whether chance or design had brought him. 
 But this was the Reverend Mr. Stevens, the man 
 whom Ephraim Bond had employed to sanctify my 
 marriage with Nancy.
 
 XIV 
 
 MISFORTUNE 
 
 NATURALLY, my first impulse was to follow 
 him. There were many things that I should 
 have liked to ask him, many questions he might 
 have answered, willingly or perhaps for money, 
 or, failing that, to save his stringy neck. That he 
 was in reality an ordained minister, with the right 
 to perform the marriage ceremony, I had doubted 
 from the very first. Nevertheless, there was 
 always the bare possibility that he was some rene- 
 gade of the cloth, fallen from what small grace 
 he might once have possessed, yet still in his de- 
 basement retaining the power of his ordination, to 
 misuse in any shady transaction to which fear or 
 cupidity might lead him. And if he was a minis- 
 ter, the probability was that our marriage was 
 legal, that Nancy was really mine, and the power 
 of law my right and able ally. Above all things 
 I should have liked to know whether I could claim 
 her openly, as was my right, or must take her 
 back, as she had been taken from me, by sheer force 
 and by the right of love alone. 
 
 And yet I did not follow him. There was a 
 132
 
 MISFORTUNE 133 
 
 chance a bare chance that he had not recog- 
 nized me, and that his presence in this low dive was 
 simply a fortuitous happening on his weak and 
 shameful road. If I followed him and questioned 
 him, he must of course recognize me, and, finding 
 me in New York instead of Marbury, might guess 
 Nancy's disappearance, or, at any rate, through 
 my presence, have a secret worth the selling. It 
 was better, I thought, to chance it, and if he had 
 recognized me, well, the harm was done; and 
 Ephraim Bond or the man in the brown derby, or 
 perhaps both of them, could take what profit they 
 might from my presence in New York. 
 
 As I sat waiting for my anonymous correspond- 
 ent, it seemed to me more and more probable that 
 this meeting had not been a chance one; as time 
 passed and my correspondent did not appear, the 
 thought took on a certainty. But by whom, I won- 
 dered, had he been employed, if he had been em- 
 ployed at all. I had met him as the creature of 
 Ephraim Bond, but if that tricky old gentleman 
 had sent him here, then Bond himself must have 
 been party to Nancy's disappearance, which was 
 sheer confusion, for Stevens had not followed me 
 into the bar, but had been there upon my arrival; 
 which meant either that he was there by chance, 
 or could only mean that my advertisement for 
 Oscar Slater had fallen into the hands of the man 
 in the brown derby, who, remembering the clues
 
 i 3 4 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 that he had left in mine, had thought of this pos- 
 sibility in my search, and, on the chance, had ar- 
 ranged this pretended meeting. The place and the 
 incongruous mystery of it all lent color to the idea, 
 for either my mere appearance had been all that 
 my correspondent desired, or something had gone 
 wrong with his plans, for, although I waited for an 
 hour, no one spoke to me. Occasionally the doors 
 would swing, and some bleary derelict from the 
 world without would stumble into the bar, to lounge 
 over a drink for a few minutes, and then stumble 
 stupidly out again. From time to time the scarlet- 
 faced bartender would refill their glasses with beer, 
 but in all the full hour I waited, the men who had 
 been Stevens' drinking companions scarcely shifted 
 their positions, nor did either of them turn so that 
 I could see his face. They were men, I noticed, of 
 much the same pattern; young men, I thought, 
 whose nondescript old clothes covered bodies that 
 drink had not yet begun to weaken. 
 
 At the end of an hour I got up in disgust. I 
 had had small hopes of learning anything really 
 valuable, and yet I was disappointed and vaguely 
 troubled; for not only had I learned absolutely 
 nothing, but there was a very fair chance that 
 I had been watched, or at least recognized, and that 
 the people who had taken Nancy away from me 
 would know before morning what methods I was 
 taking to find her. I paused at the door to give
 
 MISFORTUNE 135 
 
 one last glance about the grimy little place. I 
 had pushed back my chair noisily, yet no one had 
 taken the trouble to watch my leave-taking. The 
 bartender was mopping spilled beer with a dirty 
 rag. Some nondescript was leaning against the 
 bar's farther end; and the two men who had been 
 there since my coming still hunched together like 
 two dreary scarecrows. I let the door swing be- 
 hind me, and took a long thankful breath of the 
 clean night air. Even Seventh Avenue seemed 
 fresh and sweetly fragrant after the stale noisome- 
 ness that I had left behind; so that I walked along 
 filling my lungs in grateful relief, with the thankful 
 anticipation of the hot bath awaiting me. 
 
 What impulse it was that made me turn around 
 I can not say. We all of us, I suppose, retain a 
 few primal creature instincts. Man has been a 
 hunter for too few centuries to forget the ages 
 when he was hunted. As I turned, half the empty 
 block back I saw two men swerve into the shadow 
 of a doorway. At least it seemed to me that my 
 turning had so made them swerve. And although 
 I had got but a glimpse of them, and that a 
 none too well-lighted half block away, yet I thought 
 I recognized them as the comrades of the Rev- 
 erend Mr. Stevens. If I was being followed I de- 
 termined that the chase should not be an easy one. 
 I turned briskly at the first corner in the direction 
 of Sixth Avenue, and when I had gone a little way,
 
 136 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 stepped, myself, into a convenient shadow. As I 
 half expected, my two men turned the corner after 
 me, but evidently they were not to be fooled into 
 passing me. The street, as far as they could see, was 
 empty; but they knew that I could not have gone 
 far, and they stood together on the corner like two 
 drunken companions saying an interminable and 
 garrulous good night. I suppose that I should have 
 gone back to them; instead, I stole along as far as 
 the shadow shielded me, and then, taking to my 
 heels, ran at top speed for Sixth Avenue. 
 
 As I turned into Sixth Avenue I heard the 
 crescendo roar of the up-town elevated train be- 
 hind me. It was faint and still in the distance, but 
 I made the best of my speed for the intervening 
 block, and took the stairs three at a time. Even 
 as I bought my ticket, the train hammered into the 
 station. It was the work of a second, however, 
 to drop the ticket in the box and ensconce myself 
 in the train. All trains, I find, are perverse; but 
 elevated trains are perversity personified. If you 
 approach them in a leisurely manner, they slam their 
 gates in your face; if you are in a hurry, they 
 dawdle, gaping for a tardy arrival. As soon as I 
 had taken my seat, I peered out upon the platform. 
 
 It seemed as if the train would never start. My 
 two men came rushing up the stairs and, I think, 
 omitted the formality of either purchasing or de- 
 positing tickets. They rushed to the gate of my.
 
 MISFORTUNE 137 
 
 car, but, I suppose, must have found it closed, for 
 they turned and I lost sight of them running to the 
 rear of the train. Whether they got on or not I 
 could not at the moment be sure. But I was not 
 to be left long in doubt, for, as my train skirted 
 the park and drew into Fifty-ninth Street, a sodden 
 face peered in at the rear door of the car for a 
 moment, and wolfish eyes meeting mine, was with- 
 drawn as suddenly as it came. I had at first in- 
 tended going far up-town and doubling back by 
 means of the subway; now, on a sudden impulse, 
 as the brakes went on and we shuddered to a stand- 
 still, I got up quickly and made for the forward 
 door, squeezing through the partly-opened gate, 
 half running, half falling, down the long flight of 
 stairs. 
 
 What I should have done, of course, was to 
 turn in at the first decently lighted place I came 
 to. It was through sheer stupidity that I did not; 
 but it was not until the next day that I realized 
 that already my address was known, that my very 
 keeping of the rendezvous was an acknowledgment 
 that I was "Mr. Tyler" of the Hotel Gloria. 
 Now, in the excitement of flight and pursuit, I 
 foolishly overlooked this obvious conclusion. I 
 was anxious not to be followed home, and in- 
 nocently supposed that I was making this a contest 
 of speed and wits; so, like a silly hunted animal, 
 I ran east through Fifty-ninth Street, dodging in
 
 138 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 and out of the groups of belated negroes, who make 
 this block unpleasant at this hour, and cutting 
 across Columbus Circle, hesitated for a moment 
 at the subway entrance, then plunged fatuously 
 into Central Park. The park seemed to me at the 
 moment the ideal labyrinth in which to lose my 
 pursuers. Its lights were few and scattered, and 
 at frequent intervals winding path cut winding 
 path, and clumps of new-leaved shrubbery made 
 unexpected shadowy hiding-places. It was this 
 very intricate quality of the park's arrangement that 
 made my choice of it a mistake. For after doub- 
 ling two or three times, I stopped to listen and made 
 sure that I had shaken off and distanced my pur- 
 suers. 
 
 A ghostly policeman passed me, and I nodded to 
 him gaily, for I was childishly pleased with myself; 
 so pleased that I found myself whistling softly as 
 I turned vaguely east in what I supposed to be the 
 direction of Fifth Avenue. I must have been 
 walking four or five minutes before my men stepped 
 suddenly out in front of me. 
 
 For a second all three of us stood still, peering 
 in the vague light for further certainty; then, as if 
 at some preconcerted signal, they sprang at me. 
 Instinctively I dodged a little to one side, as some- 
 thing long and heavy grazed my right ear and 
 thudded in crushing silence on to my shoulder. The 
 other man had dived and taken me about the knees.
 
 MISFORTUNE 139 
 
 " I got him, Jim," he grunted. " Soak him." 
 
 In the meantime, I had struck the man with the 
 sand-bag full in the chin with my left hand, and, as 
 he staggered, I caught him roughly by the coat, and 
 still with my left hand, for my right arm seemed 
 numb and powerless, I jerked him forward so that 
 he toppled toward me, and the three of us went 
 down in a heap. I think, even as we fell, I felt 
 the exultant joy of righting. Then I squirmed and 
 kicked out viciously, for the man who still held 
 my knees had suddenly fastened his teeth in my 
 useless wrist. With the animal pain of it, and the 
 flashing recognition of the unfairness and murder- 
 ous intent of the fight, my unused, unrecognized 
 strength swept over me like a hot wave. I found 
 myself suddenly on my feet, holding my lesser as- 
 sailant by the collar and using his head as a sort 
 of unwieldy club to batter consciousness out of the 
 man upon the sidewalk. My jerking him viciously 
 back for a third blow was the last thing I remember, 
 for, like a suddenly extinguished light, the world 
 went utterly out of existence. It must have been 
 some time before it came reelingly before my eyes 
 again. 
 
 " Lave go my arrm ; lave it go, ye divil. Do ye 
 want to break it? " 
 
 I relaxed an unconscious grasp and closed my 
 eyes for a sickening moment. 
 
 "Who are you?" I whispered at length.
 
 140 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Who ye are has got more to do with it," the 
 voice answered. 
 
 I tried opening my eyes again, and in the stag- 
 gering darkness saw the looming outline of a police- 
 man's helmet. 
 
 " Where are they, officer ? " I asked. 
 
 The policeman dragged me up into a sitting pos- 
 ture. 
 
 " There," he said. " I've been holding your head 
 in my lap for the last five minutes, and 'tis a silly 
 looking sight the two of us was. Are ye able to 
 sit ? What hit ye ? Were ye attackted ? " 
 
 " I was," I answered. " Didn't you see them? " 
 
 " Not a sovvl. But I near broke me neck over 
 ye. It's a fearsome thing to step on a man's stom- 
 ach in the dark and get never a grunt out of him. 
 Do ye want to make a complaint ? " 
 
 " No," I said vaguely, " I believe I'll go home. 
 I'm not feeling very well." I laughed abruptly, 
 and stopped at the foolish sound of it. 
 
 The park policeman lent me a steadying arm and 
 took me as far as the gate, protesting kindly that 
 he had better find a cab. 
 
 " No wonder ye feel sick," he said, " with a 
 boomp on the back of yer head like the dome of 
 a synagogue. Ye'd better run up to the hospital 
 and see if any of yer skull is left, for if ye've been 
 murdered, ye ought to make a complaint whether 
 ye want to or not."
 
 MISFORTUNE 141 
 
 " No," I protested, " I'm all right," and at the 
 Fifth Avenue entrance I left him. 
 
 I had only gone about a block, however, before 
 a terrible thought burnt for a moment the sick 
 dizziness from my mind. I stopped under a light 
 and began a systematic search of my pockets. 
 They were empty. The collar and tie of the man 
 in the brown derby, my watch, my note-book, and 
 my money were all of them gone. I had been 
 stripped absolutely bare.
 
 XV 
 
 THE OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE CAFE 
 
 IN a sort of daze I found my way, as best I 
 could, to the Hotel Gloria. After the first bril- 
 liant shock of realization, the fog of confusion had 
 settled down again, with this additional whirling 
 eddy of a new misfortune. I stumbled up the steps 
 and to the desk in the main office. My friend, the 
 clerk, glanced up at me inquiringly, and whistled 
 softly in sheer amazement. 
 
 " Well," he said, " well! You did get it, didn't 
 you? What on earth happened? " 
 
 " I was sand-bagged, I think," I answered. 
 " I'll tell you all about it in the morning. I'm too 
 dizzy to get it straight now." 
 
 This particular clerk of the Hotel Gloria had 
 known me, as I have said, for several years, and 
 I liked him because he was one of the few people 
 on earth to whom my misfortune had never seemed 
 to make any particular difference. I should hardly 
 have called him a friend; nevertheless, there had 
 always been in his brisk professional cordiality a 
 strain of something more intimately human. In 
 his present concern he forgot his professional role 
 
 142
 
 OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE CAFE 143 
 
 altogether, and came from behind the office en- 
 closure with an actual anxiety that struck my notice 
 and pleased me in spite of my mental chaos. Very 
 gently he took off my crushed hat and gave atten- 
 tion to my injury. 
 
 " Lord, man," he said ; " you ought to have a 
 doctor." 
 
 I shook my head stupidly. " No, I oughtn't," I 
 said. " I couldn't possibly pay one. They took 
 every cent I had. I don't even know how I'll pay 
 my bill here." 
 
 " Well, don't bother about that now," the clerk 
 said. " The thing for you to do is to get to bed," 
 and he sent in a call for the hotel physician. 
 
 Between them they made me comparatively com- 
 fortable. The doctor gave me a sedative and told 
 me to go to sleep; but it was some hours before I 
 was able to do so. The pulsing torment in my 
 brain racked me; the situation I must face on the 
 morrow filled me with a feverish apprehension. 
 But in spite of it, and in spite of the pain, once 
 asleep, I slept well ; and awoke about ten o'clock to 
 find myself much better. 
 
 " Quite marvelous, my dear sir," the doctor said ; 
 " quite marvelous. But your physique is some- 
 thing very unusual, and I should say that you had 
 led a pretty decent life. It all counts. It all 
 counts." 
 
 But, although the pain had mostly disappeared,
 
 i 4 4 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 I was still very much troubled. I was here, I real- 
 ized, without a friend in the city, with a hotel bill 
 as yet unpaid, and not a cent in the world that I 
 could immediately lay my hands on. The fight be- 
 fore me called to me imperatively, and my enemies 
 had stripped me of the very sinews of war. 
 
 When I had finished my breakfast, the hotel clerk 
 came and sat down beside my bed. 
 
 " Well," he said, " you're looking pretty fit." 
 
 "Fit enough," I admitted gloomily, "and, for 
 that matter, I am going to get up in a few minutes, 
 doctor or no doctor. But what I'm going to do 
 next is more than I can tell you. Is it quite clear 
 to you that I can't even pay my hotel bill, and that 
 1 haven't enough baggage to be worth seizing? " 
 
 The clerk laughed. " I shouldn't worry about 
 that if I were you," he said. " See here, Mr. Ells- 
 worth, we know you pretty well by this time. 
 We'll let the bill go for a while, and you can stay 
 here until you can get in touch with friends. In 
 the meantime I guess we can supply you with what 
 money you need." 
 
 I have heard many people complain that New 
 York is a cold and soulless place, where tradesman 
 and Boniface have learned by such long and bitter 
 experience the guile of a scheming world, that no 
 need, however just, can turn them from their policy 
 of suspicion. Yet here was a young man, an em- 
 ployee to be sure a trusted one who was of-
 
 OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE CAFE 145 
 
 fering me, quite as a matter of course, a trust and 
 assistance for which he himself must pay, if by any 
 chance he should have overestimated my honesty or 
 ultimate solvency. 
 
 " I'm sure I thank you very much," I said, rather 
 weakly, for in my shaken condition I found it hard 
 to hide the sudden flood of gratitude which he 
 would have found embarrassing. Still, try as I 
 would, my voice was a little unsteady, and, like any 
 normal American, he became immediately ill at 
 ease. 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," he said bruskly, and re- 
 treated in confusion. 
 
 My emotions as I dressed were strangely mixed. 
 Within a short week my numb, uneventful life had 
 been turned topsy-turvy, and its gray fabric had 
 suddenly been strewn with a bewildering tangle of 
 black and gold ; hope and love, loss and fear played 
 havoc with its dreary serenity; and three times 
 within the last few days chance acquaintances had 
 spoken to me in kindness. I had never had very 
 much money, now at a stroke I was absolutely 
 penniless. It seemed to my still aching senses as 
 if I must be moving in a dream from which I might 
 at any moment awake. Yet I stepped out into the 
 city with no very definite plan and with a few bor- 
 rowed dollars in my pocket, glowing in spite of 
 myself, and in spite of my new misfortune, with the 
 unconquered kindliness of the world. Before I left
 
 146 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY ; 
 
 the hotel I wrote a short note to my brother, telling 
 him simply that I had been waylaid and robbed, 
 and asking him to loan me a hundred dollars until 
 I could find some way of repairing my fortunes. 
 This was, I recognized, only an arrow shot into the 
 air, for my brother was an uncertain person, rarely 
 in funds, or in the same place for any length of 
 time; but at the moment it was the only way of 
 getting money that I could think of, and without 
 money my blind search for Nancy would be crippled 
 also. 
 
 I walked for a few blocks in the fresh air, try- 
 ing as best I could to make some definite plan of 
 campaign. Slater, the retired laundryman, might 
 still be found, but by what means I could not at 
 the moment devise, unless, perhaps, I were to make 
 an appeal to the police. Every lost day was an 
 added terror to me, and to think at all I had to 
 put from my mind the thought of Nancy's possible 
 circumstances, of the many ugly chances that might 
 befall her. Even if she had been taken back to her 
 uncle's, the shock of returning to the place she had 
 feared and hated for so long might work her in- 
 calculable harm. 
 
 Her uncle's ! I paused abruptly in the middle of 
 the block. Why had I not gone there at the very 
 outset? For if she were there I made sure they 
 could not hide her from me; and if she were not, 
 and this thing had been done without the knowl-
 
 OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE CAFE 147 
 
 edge of Ephraim Bond, then, for all I knew, he 
 might prove an eager ally. 
 
 I turned, and making my way back to Fifth 
 Avenue, took a bus up-town, determining on my way 
 that the moment the door was opened I would slip 
 past the servant and enter the house. With any 
 sort of luck the door should be opened by Jonas, 
 and Jonas, as it seemed to me, was really devoted 
 to Nancy; so that I might question him exhaus- 
 tively before he even announced me to Mr. Bond. 
 Just what method I would take with Mr. Bond 
 himself I left to circumstance and our meeting. 
 But I made up my mind that he should give me in- 
 formation if he had any, and, in any case, what 
 immediate assistance I needed. I got down from 
 my bus very truculently and with my heart beating 
 wildly at the possibility that my search might need 
 go no further, that perhaps I was to find. Nancy 
 again in the place that I first found her. I had 
 rung the bell for the third time in my impatience 
 before I came down to earth. They had seen me, 
 I thought, and would not answer. Then, with a 
 weary certainty, I went down the steps and looked 
 up over the house. The sign of an Electric Pro- 
 tective Company hung in front of the drawn shade 
 of the lower window, as indication to all the world 
 and more particularly the underworld that 
 the house was closed and empty and wired 
 against intrusion.
 
 I 4 8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 That I might leave no stone unturned, rather than 
 through any hope of success, I looked up the Lex- 
 ington Avenue stable, only to find it locked as I had 
 expected. It was like beating against a stone wall. 
 And like a man suddenly thrown into a dungeon and 
 rinding suddenly that there is no way of escape, for 
 a little while, I think, I went mad. Nancy was 
 somewhere, probably not far away, and for all my 
 strength and for all my love, I could not find her. 
 The fact dinned itself through my consciousness 
 as I blindly paced the crowded city streets and 
 walked unremembered miles. I brought up again, 
 at last, before the Lexington Avenue stable. Like 
 some one lost in the woods, I had probably walked 
 in a great irregular circle. Now it was late after- 
 noon, and I was utterly tired. I looked about 
 wearily for a place where I might rest and, if possi- 
 ble, bring myself to some condition of reason. 
 
 Across the street from the stable, and sand- 
 wiched in between a stranded dwelling and a to- 
 bacco shop, was a little lunch-room dignified by the 
 name of the " Golden Cafe." The place as I en- 
 tered it was almost empty, and I took a table in a 
 corner by myself. The red-haired, indifferent boy 
 in charge brought me black coffee. Two women 
 were chatting over tea by the window, and I lin- 
 gered impatiently over my coffee, waiting for them 
 to leave; for I wanted to have the proprietor to 
 myself. They were an unconscionable time, and I
 
 OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE CAFE 149 
 
 made sure that other patrons would drop in; but 
 no one else came, and at last the women departed, 
 leaving a tip just large enough to put the red-haired 
 boy into a bad humor. 
 
 " Do you know," I asked him, " who owns that 
 red-brick stable across the way? " 
 
 " What did you say you wanted ? " he replied, 
 passing me and speaking across the counter behind 
 me. 
 
 " I wanted to know," I repeated, " who owns 
 that stable directly opposite ? " 
 
 " Dunno," said the boy. 
 
 He spoke as if he had paid no attention to my 
 question, so that I turned around for my next and 
 launched it squarely at him. " Well, have you ever 
 heard of Ephraim Bond ? " I asked. 
 
 " Nope ; want any more coffee ? " 
 
 "I suppose so," I said, and turned back to my 
 table. 
 
 The boy came out from behind his counter, and 
 shuffled past me ; and I looked up to see that another 
 customer had entered. He was a small white- 
 haired man, whose pleasant face, with its widely- 
 set, attractive-looking eyes, seemed perfectly fa- 
 miliar. When he had given his order he looked 
 down the room at me, and I bowed, for I was cer- 
 tain that I had met him somewhere. Indeed, he 
 might have been some old friend of my father's, 
 aged now beyond instant recognition, but still a cer-
 
 150 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 tain memory. He returned my bow nervously, and 
 bent over his food; but once or twice, as I sipped 
 my second cup of coffee, I found his mild eyes 
 studying me. I had forgotten about him, however, 
 and the idle wonder of who he was, when he 
 abruptly slid into the chair opposite me. 
 
 " Did I hear you ask, sir," he said in a queer, 
 quiet little voice, "for a man named Ephraim 
 Bond?"
 
 XVI 
 
 WE HOLD CONFERENCE 
 
 FOR a moment I was too surprised to answer 
 him, but the mild blue eyes never wavered 
 from mine. The lined, old face presented such a 
 gentle courtesy that I nodded without further 
 thought. 
 
 " Yes, sir," I replied. " Do you know him, and 
 can you tell me if he is the owner of that stable 
 opposite ? " 
 
 The old gentleman smiled. " I'll have to make 
 you a Yankee answer, I'm afraid," he said. " Are 
 you a friend of Ephraim Bond's, and what do you 
 want of him?" 
 
 I hesitated. I did not want to answer questions, 
 and, even if I answered this, I hardly knew what 
 reply to make to the first half of his question. " I 
 don't suppose I'm exactly a friend," I said at length, 
 " but I'm very anxious to find him. I have been to 
 his house and found it closed, and I had an idea 
 that he owned that stable over there." 
 
 " He doesn't," said the old gentleman. And the 
 reply seemed by its very abruptness to end the con- 
 versation. Nevertheless, I sat still and waited.
 
 I 5 2 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 The old gentleman had dropped his eyes, and 
 seemed to be centering all his attention on a little 
 noteless tune he was drumming with long, blunt 
 fingers on the marble table-top. Whenever he fin- 
 ished a particularly difficult run he would glance up 
 at me, for all the world like a shy little boy, and 
 then fall again to his drumming. At last he folded 
 his hands in front of him, and leaned across the 
 table over them. 
 
 " Has he hurt you in any way ? " he asked. 
 
 I stared at him in amazement. " Why do you 
 ask that? " I said. " Do you know who I am? " 
 
 " I am not sure," said the old gentleman; " I was 
 only wondering." 
 
 " I'm not sure that he has hurt me, either," I 
 replied ; " but I should very much like to find him. 
 Do you know where he is at present? " 
 
 The old gentleman rapped sharply with a coin 
 on the table-top. " Our checks, boy, our checks," 
 he said. He motioned away the money I took 
 from my pocket. " No, no," he said, " let me set- 
 tle; it will save time. You and I need to have a 
 long talk together, and this is no place for it. Will 
 you do me the courtesy of visiting my room ? " 
 
 " Gladly," I answered, and reached for my hat. 
 
 At the first corner I started unconsciously to turn 
 west, and my companion laid his hand on my arm. 
 
 " No," he said, " east, if you please. East, in 
 fact some distance east. I perhaps I should ex-
 
 WE HOLD CONFERENCE 153 
 
 plain that I am a sociologist, a student, you under- 
 stand, of mankind and society. There is nothing 
 more interesting than man's relations with man, 
 nothing more interesting and nothing more com- 
 plex. It is pleasant, I assure you, to be in close 
 touch with humanity; to rub elbows with one's fel- 
 low beings; to be close to the heart of hurly-burly 
 human existence. I have no patience, sir, with 
 your hermit, your solitary, your recluse. God 
 knows, we're most of us enough alone in a crowd, 
 without disturbing our mental balance further by 
 withdrawal from it. Men, women and children, 
 trouble, joy and sorrow, human defeat and ulti- 
 mate human victory, these are the only things worth 
 watching in the world, the only things of importance 
 to a thinking man. Your recluse is only a sort of 
 coward who dares not put his soul to the acid test 
 of life. He would save his soul and loses it; he 
 draws away from others to find the full develop- 
 ment of his ego, and he ends by turning his ego 
 into a vague, shadowy thing, as soft and cloudy- 
 outlined as a sponge. Think what he misses ; think 
 what he misses. Love is lost to him, and even hate 
 becomes a flabby thing. Man is an emotional ani- 
 mal, contrived and equipped for the great adven- 
 ture of life, and if he refuses to enter the lists he 
 loses its very essence and meaning. Where I live, 
 sir, the world moves. Personally I do not think 
 that the * annals of the poor ' are either short or
 
 i 5 4 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 simple. With us neither the duello nor marriage 
 by conquest are things of the past. Men give or 
 strike because their hearts are touched, and so men 
 have through all the ages. The city, sir, is the 
 very cream of human existence. Here life cries 
 out to you on every corner. That is what appeals 
 to me, sir; here even an old man may throw his 
 cap into the ring." 
 
 We had been walking rapidly, and, as we walked, 
 the old gentleman beside me had straightened up, 
 and was pouring forth his torrential eulogy of his 
 chosen fad with a quite unexpected fire and rapidity ; 
 and, as he spoke, my wonder grew until for a mo- 
 ment I almost doubted his sanity. But although 
 his blue eyes had lost their mildness and now 
 sparkled with a strange youthful vivacity, yet they 
 were steady and their look contained; so that the 
 old gentleman, I concluded, was merely an eccen- 
 tric enthusiast, joyously astride his rearing hobby. 
 At Second Avenue we had turned down-town, and 
 now, as my companion concluded, he stopped me 
 with a large gesture before the dark door of a 
 rather dilapidated tenement. 
 
 " Here," he said, " is the palace of the pauper, 
 the parliament house of mankind's majority." 
 
 He dived into the dark doorway like an aged, 
 but nimble, white rabbit. 
 
 " Better keep your hand on the wall," he said, as 
 I stumbled on the first step. " Some of us have
 
 WE HOLD CONFERENCE 155 
 
 been rather short of firewood of late, and we have 
 been forced to sacrifice the balustrade." 
 
 I did as I was bid, willingly enough, although, 
 even through my gloves, the wall felt dirty, cold 
 and greasy; so that at the first touch I shuddered 
 with repulsion. For the stairs were in almost total 
 darkness, save here and there, where some door, 
 left open on a small and tumbled apartment, gave 
 some of its meager and needed light escape. 
 
 " You will notice," the old gentleman called back 
 to me over his shoulder, " that the higher we go, 
 the more balustrade we have. What heat there is 
 rises, I suppose, or it may be chance, it may be just 
 chance. We're making a long climb, you see. As 
 yet I live on the top floor, as I have a taste for see- 
 ing the sky. I probably could never grow accus- 
 tomed to living without sight of it. This next to 
 the last step is broken ; you'd better skip it." 
 
 He paused before his door a little out of breath, 
 fumbling in the darkness for the lock. When it 
 had clicked back, he still held the knob for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " Perhaps I should say," he said, " that I have al- 
 lowed myself to live a little better than my neigh- 
 bors. A man, I take it, has a right to what he 
 can get in life," and with that he swung the door 
 open. 
 
 The room before me was the most amazing one 
 I have ever seen. The sun flooded into it bril-
 
 i 5 6 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 liantly, for its two small, white-curtained windows 
 faced the south, and overhead the larger part of 
 the ceiling had been replaced by a giant skylight, 
 with a rolling shade, like that of a studio. A sin- 
 gle Bokhara rug covered the floor. The walls were 
 lined with shelves almost to the ceiling, where books 
 disputed space with a bewildering miscellany; Ori- 
 ental curios and European objets d'art jostled one 
 another incongruously, and, here or there, some 
 cheap German or Yankee gimcrack rested with all 
 the impertinence of smart and interesting modernity. 
 In one corner a large phonograph stood with a great 
 heap of disks beside it, while its other side propped 
 a big banjo, fretted and inlaid like a colored min- 
 strel's. As we came blinking into the room, three 
 birds fluttered up from the littered center-table. 
 
 " Don't keep them in cages," the old gentleman 
 explained, chirping to them as they settled on his 
 shoulders. " I've never been able to persuade my- 
 self that a bird really liked a cage. This one," and 
 he stretched out a hand on which was perched a big, 
 long-billed, wicked-looking bird with iridescent, 
 black plumage and yellow legs and wattles, " is a 
 Mino bird. It comes from Java, you know. It 
 talks sometimes when it feels like it." 
 
 The bird eyed me wickedly with its head on one 
 side. " Welcome," he croaked once, morosely. 
 
 ' The other two are canaries," said the old gen- 
 tleman. " It is really surprising and delightful to
 
 WE HOLD CONFERENCE 157 
 
 hear their varied accompaniments when the phono- 
 graph is running. Would you like to hear a tune? " 
 
 " If you will forgive me," I said, " I am very 
 anxious to get at the business in hand. You see, I 
 have a very particular reason for finding Mr. Bond, 
 so that I fear you would find me a poor listener. 
 Do you really know something about him ? " 
 
 The old gentleman looked a little disappointed. 
 " Well, well," he said, " I suppose we'd better get to 
 business first, but I have some delightful new rec- 
 ords that I am sure would interest you. Still, you 
 are right; we had better have our talk. Now just 
 what was it that you wished to see Mr. Bond 
 about?" 
 
 " I don't quite know how to answer you," I re- 
 plied. " My business with Mr. Bond is of a very 
 private and personal nature. If you know where he 
 is, couldn't you simply send me to him without 
 knowing what I wanted ? " 
 
 The old gentleman rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 
 " See here," he said, after a reflective moment, 
 " you'd better start right in at the beginning and 
 tell me what is the matter. I know, in the first 
 place, that you're not looking for Ephraim Bond 
 just for the pleasure of seeing him, for to me you 
 appear perfectly sane. He has done something to 
 you or you want something from him; one or the 
 other, perhaps both," and he paused, eying me 
 shrewdly to see how well his shot had told.
 
 i 5 8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Come, come," he said, as I still hesitated, 
 " surely you can not be afraid to confide in me. I 
 give you my word that I will hold everything you 
 say as sacred, and, unless I am very much mistaken, 
 I can help you in some small measure. I know 
 Ephraim Bond and have known him for some years, 
 but he is no friend of mine. In fact, I don't care 
 for him at all. Better speak up. Has he cheated 
 you or does he owe you money ? " 
 
 Circumstance had never given me a confidant in 
 life. Since my mother's death I had always had 
 to thresh out every problem by myself, and as best 
 I could, unaided. Now in my extremity, with 
 Nancy gone, with no friends, and with, as I knew, a 
 definite effort being made against my search and 
 the search now a seemingly blind one, this chance 
 acquaintance, this mild-mannered, gentle old en- 
 thusiast appealed to a sense other than my reason, 
 yet wistfully strong enough to overshadow a cau- 
 tious mistrust. 
 
 " Have you ever seen Ephraim Bond's niece ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " There," said the old gentleman, " there, just ex- 
 cuse me for a moment, will you ? " 
 
 He jumped up from his chair and disappeared 
 through a door near the end of the room. 
 
 " Just as I thought," he said, coming back a mo- 
 ment later; "that Mino bird is washing in my 
 water pitcher. I keep it covered generally, for he'll
 
 WE HOLD CONFERENCE 159 
 
 be sure to drown himself. It would be much bet- 
 ter, I suppose, if I kept my water in a pail. But, 
 try as I will, I can't keep that bird out of it. They 
 live in swamps, you know. Now what was it you 
 asked me ? " 
 
 His expression was so frankly open, his voice so 
 kindly and his manner so free from any thought of 
 offense, that, startled and upset as I was, I could 
 not find it in my heart to do other than repeat my 
 question. 
 
 " His niece," said the old gentleman, " to be sure, 
 he did have a niece. What about her ? " 
 
 I had almost made up my mind to tell him the 
 whole story, but his interruptions and his sudden 
 questions were so disconcerting that now I paused, 
 not knowing exactly where to commence. 
 
 " Come, come," said the old gentleman, " speak 
 out, my dear sir, speak out. But perhaps you think 
 I'm not treating you fairly. Of course I knew his 
 niece, knew her quite well at one time, although I 
 have not seen her for some years. Nancy, her name 
 was; a very pretty girl to my thinking." 
 
 He had hitched his chair up to the table, and had 
 recommenced the virtuoso drumming that our de- 
 parture from the cafe had interrupted. 
 
 " Well," I said at last, " I am very anxious to 
 find Miss Bond. She is the only reason I want to 
 find her uncle." 
 
 " Do you know," said the old gentleman, " that I
 
 i6o "THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 have utterly forgotten to ask you your name ? My 
 name is Ogilby, Martin Ogilby." 
 
 " Mine is Mason Ellsworth," I said. 
 
 " Then may I ask," said the old gentleman pomp- 
 ously, " just what interest you have, Mr. Ells- 
 worth, in Miss Nancy Bond ? " 
 
 " Mr. Ogilby," I answered, " I may be doing a 
 very foolish thing, but I am in great distress and 
 you have been kind to me. I am going to tell you 
 the whole story from beginning to end." 
 
 The old gentleman smiled and nodded. " That," 
 he said, " is a very sensible thing to do." 
 
 Nor, after that, did he interrupt me once in the 
 telling, but sat very still, with long, blunt ringers 
 pressed together in churchsteeple fashion on the 
 table before him. When I had done he sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 " That is very like every one of them," he said. 
 " Men, after all, can be counted on to be consist- 
 ent." 
 
 " Do you mean to say," I asked, " that you know 
 who the man in the brown derby is? " 
 
 The old gentleman fidgeted. 
 
 " I believe you said he gave his name as ' Doctor 
 Morrison ' ? " 
 
 " Well, yes ; but I hardly supposed that to be his 
 real name." 
 
 " Well," the old gentleman sighed, " I think we 
 will have to let it do for the present. Doctor Mor-
 
 WE HOLD CONFERENCE 161 
 
 risen is as good a name as any other; better, much 
 better, than some." 
 
 " But," I protested, " if I can find out who this 
 man really is, it will clear up the whole matter. 
 No one can hide it for very long, once you know his 
 name." 
 
 " Don't you think so ? " asked the old gentle- 
 man; "don't you think so? I should not think it 
 so very difficult a thing for a man to hide some- 
 where in this big country, or this big city, no mat- 
 ter who knew his name. In fact, it's done all the 
 time. I should say that the principal thing you 
 needed now was money. I'm a sociologist if you 
 will, Mr. Ellsworth, but I don't think that I'm a 
 socialist, not a very radical one at any rate. Money 
 is a good defense and a good weapon; in fact, I 
 have a great respect for it." 
 
 " That's all very well," I said, " but where am I 
 going to get it ? " 
 
 " That's so," the old gentleman sighed, " where 
 are you going to get it ? For that matter, Mr. Ells- 
 worth, don't you think this is a pretty hopeless 
 search? Even if you could find Miss Bond 
 or shall we call her Mrs. Ellsworth would she 
 care to return with you, or, even should she re- 
 turn, would it be greatly to your advantage? 
 Could she have disappeared, do you think, without 
 some connivance, or at least a certain acquiescence, 
 of her own? What makes you believe that she did
 
 162 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 not leave of her own accord, that she did not really 
 write the note you say you found, that even should 
 you find her, she would be willing to return ? " 
 
 " Because, Mr. Ogilby," I said, " because I love 
 her more than anything else in the world, and be- 
 cause she has told me that she loves me." 
 
 " Do you think that that is a good reason? " he 
 asked. 
 
 "Don't you?" 
 
 The old gentleman got up from his chair and 
 leaned over me, putting both hands on my shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 " I think, Mr. Ellsworth," he said, " that it's the 
 very finest reason in the world, and I think, too, that 
 you're a man after my own heart." 
 
 He straightened up and paced the room with 
 nervous strides, sinking finally into his chair again. 
 Both of us sat in silence. The Mino bird, still wet, 
 came in from the next room and hopped up to 
 shake his draggled plumage on the table. One of 
 the canaries trilled into a soft little undertone of 
 song. 
 
 " Yes," said the old gentleman at last, " a man 
 after my own heart," and blew his nose violently. 
 
 I could make no answer. His sympathy was 
 grateful to me, but, after all, I had only told my 
 story to an old eccentric, who lived at the top of a 
 tenement house and played at studying the world. 
 That he seemed to know the Bonds was of little
 
 WE HOLD CONFERENCE 163 
 
 advantage to me, unless he could or would 
 show me the identity of the man in the brown derby. 
 
 " Well, well," said the old gentleman, " here I've 
 been letting you sit and worry. You must forgive 
 me. You must hear this new Caruso record. I find 
 the phonograph very soothing." 
 
 I smiled weakly in my disappointment and made 
 as if to get to my feet, but he waved me back. 
 
 " I won't be a moment," he said. 
 
 The record once going, he went into his bed- 
 room again, leaving me alone to my disappointment 
 and the delights of the phonograph. I sat with my 
 face buried in my gloved hands trying to puzzle 
 some sense into my world. The wonderful tenor 
 voice of the singer rose and fell, thrilling with the 
 ecstasy of love triumphant, and as the last note died 
 away there came a soft step behind me and the old 
 gentleman's hand was laid again upon my shoulder. 
 
 " Fine, is it not ? " he whispered. " I could not 
 bear to interrupt it. But, my friend, you have 
 work before you. We have work before us both, 
 and we'd better be setting about it." As he spoke 
 he laid before me on the table a roll of yellow 
 money. " That's what you need most, just at 
 present," he said.
 
 XVII 
 
 THE SINEWS OF WAR 
 
 MECHANICALLY I picked up the money and 
 counted it over. There were ten bills of 
 one hundred dollars each, ten fifty-dollar bills and 
 five hundred dollars in fives, tens and twenties. 
 Two thousand dollars had dropped from the skies, 
 as it were, into my lap. 
 
 "But but," I said, "I can not take all this 
 money. It is a large sum, greater than I shall need 
 or can repay." 
 
 Mr. Ogilby shook his head vigorously. " That 
 
 is a very absurd remark," he said. " In the first 
 
 place it is hardly a large sum, and in the second 
 
 place you can not possibly tell how much you will 
 
 need. As far as repaying goes, we can talk about 
 
 that when the time comes. I am asking you to 
 
 give me no note or receipt, so you see that, if you 
 
 wish, you can repudiate your debt altogether." I 
 
 flushed, I suppose, for he added quickly, " Oh, 
 
 "I know that you will not, nor did I mean to imply 
 
 any such thing. I simply want you to feel that 
 
 the money is yours to use or do with as you like, 
 
 and that (although you understand this is in con- 
 
 164
 
 THE SINEWS OF WAR 165 
 
 fidence) there is plenty more where it came from. 
 I have told you, Mr. Ellsworth, that I am a student 
 of human nature, but I am, or want to be, a little 
 more than that. Philosophy, when all is said and 
 done, is a pretty cold wand to touch the world 
 with. It is all very well to stand aside and theo- 
 rize ; but I, for one, can not resist on occasion plung- 
 ing my hand into life's pasty. This money is not 
 a gift but an investment, and I am imposing one 
 condition on you in offering it." 
 
 "Condition?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Ogilby, his mild blue eyes 
 fixed seriously upon me, " a condition. I want 
 you to keep in touch with me, to let me know how 
 your search prospers. I want to be what is it 
 the boys call it nowadays? ' in on the game/ ' 
 
 He brought out the phrase of modern slang in 
 serious triumph. Just how far the man was an 
 eccentric I could not tell. We are very apt to 
 brand as eccentricity any conduct or point of view 
 which strays radically from that to which we are 
 accustomed. That this old man should wish to 
 spice his life with other people's joys and sorrows, 
 that he should even wish to make its struggle a 
 vicarious purchase, set him apart, to be sure, from 
 the men and women of my acquaintance, but, on 
 reflection, gave me no ground whatsoever for be- 
 lieving him irresponsible or insane. 
 
 " Your condition is a very easy one," I said,
 
 166 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " and I am going to accept it and the money too, 
 Mr. Ogilby. I am taking it, you understand, as 
 a loan; but I have told you my circumstances, so 
 that you understand how distant the prospect is 
 of my being able to repay it, should I be forced 
 to spend the entire sum." 
 
 Mr. Ogilby laughed. " Don't you think, Mr. 
 Ellsworth," he said, " that with your wife, your 
 love and your future happiness at stake, you are 
 carrying scruple a little too far in wondering 
 whether I am mentally competent ? " 
 
 He had stopped his pacing of the room as he 
 said this, and stood looking down at me, a little 
 twinkle in the mild, blue eyes. Both judgment and 
 diagnosis were so correct and so unexpected that 
 I found myself unable to answer. 
 
 " Come, sir," said Mr. Ogilby, " you under- 
 stand what I mean, and that what I say I mean 
 in good part. It is the privilege of age, my boy, 
 to speak its mind out. Advice and money are 
 about all that it has to give." 
 
 He straightened his shoulders, and pushed the 
 white hair back from his forehead. 
 
 " It is a bugle call, sir, a bugle call. I doubt, 
 sir, if I shall ever be so old that I am deaf to 
 that echo of youth. Whatever happened, at your 
 age, the great wall of China should not stop me; 
 and if I needed money to find my love, and could 
 get it in no other way, I should take the first money
 
 THE SINEWS OF WAR 167 
 
 that came to hand, with or without the consent of its 
 owner. You have spirit enough, I'll warrant, but 
 you have not lived long enough to see the relative 
 value of things. Leave your moralizing to us old 
 men ; we have little else to do. What difference does 
 it make, whether or not you'll be able to repay my 
 money? The vital thing is that you have it." 
 
 " I know that your philosophy is wrong," I 
 laughed, " and I suspect that you are preaching 
 very bad morals, but you are right in your reproof." 
 
 " Well," said the old gentleman, " what are you 
 going to do next, now that you have the sinews of 
 war?" 
 
 " You're quite sure," I said, " that you can't 
 tell me who the man in the brown derby is. I 
 can not help feeling that you know; and if you do 
 know, for the life of me I can't see why you 
 shouldn't tell." 
 
 For a few minutes Mr. Ogilby resumed his 
 drumming on the table, and I could see that he was 
 debating the matter. At last he looked up at me 
 uneasily. 
 
 " Don't you think," he said, almost defensively, 
 " that I have done something for you already ? I'll 
 admit that I'm pretty sure who this Doctor Morrison 
 is, and perhaps some day I may tell you; but not 
 to-day. Really, I don't feel that I could tell you 
 to-day. You'll have to take my word for it that 
 I would like to. Besides, it shouldn't be such very
 
 i68 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 hard work for you to find out for yourself, and 
 that would be better very much better, very 
 much better indeed. In fact, Mr. Ellsworth, I 
 not only do not care whether you repay my money 
 or not, but I should be obliged to you if you could 
 manage to forget where it came from, or in any 
 event, to make it a sort of honorable secret be- 
 tween us two. This ' Doctor Morrison,' if he is 
 the man I think he is, has his good points, some 
 very good points indeed. He did something once 
 that was not only clever but very pleasing. In fact, 
 he righted a great wrong, so that, but for your 
 own peculiar circumstances, I would not for the 
 world do anything that in any way militated 
 against him. He's clever, dreadfully clever. I 
 should dislike extremely making an enemy of him, 
 so that I must beg you to be very careful." 
 
 He grew more and more nervous as he spoke, 
 and there was an intensity in his final appeal that 
 startled me. The youthful valor of a few minutes 
 ago had left his face, so that he seemed only a 
 nervous, old man, afraid, sorry, and ashamed, 
 whose fear overmastered either shame or sorrow; 
 so that without knowing why, my heart went out 
 to him in sympathy. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Ogilby," I said; "you may de- 
 pend upon it that when I find Doctor Morrison I 
 shall mention neither you nor this money." 
 
 " No one must know about it, no one," he said.
 
 THE SINEWS OF WAR 169 
 
 " Do you suppose/' I asked, " that if I could 
 find him, Ephraim Bond could or would help me? " 
 
 The old gentleman's hand went to trembling lips. 
 
 " I'm not sure," he said, " but I do not think 
 so. If you take my advice, you'll keep away from 
 him." He got up and putting his hand on my 
 shoulder, leaned close to my ear, " I have some- 
 times thought," he whispered, " that that man was 
 the devil incarnate." 
 
 I stared at him with my first doubts as to his 
 sanity strongly reawakened. 
 
 " Now," Mr. Ogilby said more quietly, " what 
 has been your own experience of him? Should 
 you say he was a man to be trusted or a man to 
 be treated carelessly? You may have found some 
 measure of happiness through him, but do you 
 think he did what he did for either your happi- 
 ness or that of his niece ? " 
 
 " No," I said, " you are quite right ; he is the 
 devil." 
 
 Mr. Ogilby's hand clutched my sleeve. " Youth 
 and strength," he said, " should be afraid of 
 nothing, even the devil. I'm glad that I have 
 found you, Mr. Ellsworth, very glad indeed. Be- 
 tween us, perhaps, we can put the devil in chains. 
 I think you are almost stronger than even Doctor 
 Morrison." 
 
 " I wish that were all that counted," I answered ; 
 " physical strength isn't of much use nowadays.
 
 170 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 Modern machinery and modern laws have put sheer 
 muscle out of the running." 
 
 Delight was coming back again into the old face. 
 
 "Do not be too sure of that," said Mr. Ogilby; 
 " do not be too sure. Machinery and laws, after 
 all, are superficial. As I have told you, adventure 
 lies just under the surface of life. You may turn 
 any corner to find all civilization swept away for 
 you, to find yourself suddenly in the midst of such 
 a situation that modernity will drop from you like 
 a garment, law and custom be stripped away, and 
 yourself, the naked man, with only man's primal 
 and eternal weapons to help you; your heart, your 
 brain, your bodily strength. Even a king may 
 find a sudden dagger at his heart, may have to 
 think and act quickly, may have to struggle and 
 sweat, man to man, with an assassin, and, by the 
 strength which you make too little of, decide the 
 very pages of history itself." 
 
 There was a wildfire of enthusiasm about this 
 little old gentleman, which burned away doubt and 
 discouragement like a flame. I found myself for- 
 getting that I was very tired, that I was baffled and 
 once defeated; like the great royal poet, I felt my 
 strength renewed and the joy of battle stirring in 
 my heart. 
 
 " I wish I could take you with me, Mr. Ogilby," 
 I said ; " I find you a healthy stimulant." 
 
 Mr. Ogilby sighed, "I wish so too, but that is
 
 THE SINEWS OF WAR 171 
 
 impossible. I can not do much but look down 
 from my window at life and occasionally shout 
 encouragement. May I ask what it is that you 
 propose to do first ? " 
 
 " Well," I replied, " first I shall go back to my 
 hotel to see if, by any chance, there is a letter from 
 Nancy, and then perhaps the best thing to do would 
 be to go to some good private detective bureau. I 
 do not know why that did not occur to me in the 
 first place, but detective, in some way, meant to 
 me police, and police generally mean publicity. I 
 have been very anxious, if possible, to keep this 
 matter private." 
 
 " Quite right," said Mr. Ogilby. 
 
 " But naturally a private detective is an entirely 
 different thing, and now with my pocket full of 
 money I can afford one." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Ogilby, " you must let me hear 
 from you every day. No, do not make a note of 
 my address. It will be easy enough for you to 
 remember it, and things committed to paper so 
 often come into other hands." 
 
 " I know that well enough," I said ruefully. 
 
 " Exactly, exactly. It would even be better, 
 Mr. Ellsworth, if you left the envelope blank, and 
 only addressed it the moment before slipping your 
 letter into the box." 
 
 He opened the door and escorted me himself to 
 the head of the stairs. When I reached the dark-
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 ness of the next landing, I looked back to see him 
 still standing there peering after me. 
 
 " Good-by," I said, " and thanks." 
 
 " Good-by and God be with you," said Mr. 
 Ogilby. 
 
 I clattered heedlessly down the nauseous, dan- 
 gerous stairs, keeping well to the wall, to be sure, 
 but quite unmindful of their treacherous gloom ; for 
 now I had a definite plan and all the money I was 
 likely to need, and the brave words of the little, 
 old gentleman on the top floor were still echoing 
 like a bugle in my ears. I set my face west, and 
 half running, half walking, found my way back to 
 my hotel. 
 
 " Good luck ? " asked my friend, the hotel clerk. 
 
 " Yes," I said, drawing out my money. " I want 
 to pay my bill and have you put half of this in 
 the safe. Put it in an envelope under your own 
 name, so that, if need be, you can telegraph it to 
 me." 
 
 "Going away?" he asked, as unstartled as if 
 my sudden wealth were the most natural thing in 
 the world. 
 
 " I'm not sure," I said, " and for the present I 
 am going to keep my room. Has any mail come 
 forme?" 
 
 The clerk shook his head. I hardly expected 
 any, and turned away to search the red telephone 
 book for a list of detective agencies. I found sev-
 
 THE SINEWS OF WAR 173 
 
 eral, and, with the old gentleman's advice still in 
 my mind, committed to memory the addresses of 
 four or five which struck my fancy. I thought I 
 would make the rounds until I found some man 
 I personally liked, who seemed honest, intelligent 
 and experienced enough to work with me and for 
 me. But before going out again, I stopped at the 
 desk and repeated the names which I had chosen 
 to the clerk. 
 
 " Do you know anything about any of these peo- 
 ple ? " I asked him. 
 
 " I guess they're all of them straight enough," 
 said the clerk. " Still after the mysterious Slater, 
 or are you out for revenge ? " 
 
 " A little of both," I answered, " or even a little 
 of either." 
 
 " Well," said the clerk, " that's the way to do it, 
 providing of course that you get a good Sherlock. 
 These sleuths are like everybody else, some of them 
 straight, some of them crooked. Don't be afraid 
 to cross-examine them. By the way, the mail's just 
 come in. Shall I run over it for you, or are you 
 in too much of a hurry? " 
 
 "No," I said, "I'll wait, but there isn't much 
 chance that you'll find anything." 
 
 In spite of my doubt, I found myself waiting 
 very impatiently. 
 
 " Here you are," the clerk said ; " is this any use 
 to you ? " and he tossed a letter onto the counter.
 
 174 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 The envelope was an ordinary one, thumb-marked 
 and dirty, and with a bloated distortion, as if it 
 had once been wet. It had been addressed to me at 
 Marbury, and readdressed from there in a scrawl 
 of purple ink. As carefully as my excitement 
 would permit, I tore it open and pulled out the little 
 half-sheet it contained. 
 
 " Steady on," said the clerk; " what is the mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 " It's all right," I replied; " it's all right." For 
 down at the bottom of the sheet, squeezed into the 
 last bit of cramped space, was a name I looked for, 
 set before another which brought the tears stinging 
 into my eyes with the surprise and joy of it, with 
 an unbounded thanksgiving for their mystic and 
 magical coupling ; for I read simply, " Nancy Ells- 
 worth."
 
 XVIII 
 
 I HEAR NEWS 
 
 I SLIPPED the note back into its envelope and 
 into the side pocket of my coat, where I kept 
 my hand upon it as if it were some sentient, pre- 
 cious thing that might escape me unaware. I was 
 wild to read it, but impatient, too, to be alone with 
 this my first signed letter from Nancy, to be out 
 of public observation, away, even, from the friendly 
 eyes of the clerk. I did not wait for the elevator 
 but ran up the three flights of stairs, and locked 
 and bolted the door of my room behind me. 
 Even there I searched the place, peering into 
 closets and beneath the bed, as some timorous old 
 maid might have done, to make the certainty of 
 my privacy doubly sure. Then again I drew the 
 letter out. It was written very minutely and in 
 pencil, so that I had to hold it to the light : 
 
 " MASON, DEAR : 
 
 " In the first place I am well ; but hurry, for I am 
 afraid. As I wrote you at Mrs. Lathrop's and 
 surely that good woman has somehow got you my 
 note they took me, pretending I was insane. 
 They still outwardly keep that pretense up, and in 
 
 175
 
 176 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 private he is cruel enough to boast of it to me. I 
 am in a little private retreat in Winford. I do not 
 know how many people are here ; but I do not think 
 that, aside from one or two show patients, the rest 
 are any more insane than I am. I did not know 
 that such a place could exist. There are men, 
 women and even children, all of them prisoners. 
 He still calls himself ' Doctor Morrison ' and seems 
 very sure of himself. He has told me, of course, 
 that our marriage was a farce and that I am to 
 marry him or stay here all my life. I hate and fear 
 him even more than I used to; but I have let him 
 think that he could frighten me into marrying him. 
 He has always wanted me to marry him, you know. 
 This I am giving to one of the maids, who loves me 
 for some reason, and whom I think I can trust. 
 But hurry, dear love, and come for me, for I love 
 you and am afraid. Be very careful; for, by its 
 very nature, this place is under the most careful 
 guard. You are in all my thoughts and prayers. 
 
 " NANCY ELLSWORTH." 
 
 I read and re-read the note until I had it by heart, 
 and then, carefully, I burned it ; for I was no longer 
 so confident of the security of my pockets; burned 
 it, that is, all but the last line and the signature. 
 I risked nothing by keeping them, and I could not 
 find it in my heart to destroy this wonderful mystic 
 union of Nancy's written name and my own. 
 "Nancy Ellsworth," I had never even dared to 
 say it to myself. 
 
 The name Winford I knew well, or at least the
 
 I HEAR NEWS 177 
 
 name of the town which I am here calling Winford. 
 Times have changed since then, and, wrong as 
 everything was, I have no wish to cast stigma on 
 a place that has been swept clean. So Winford 
 is as different a name from the real one as any- 
 thing I can contrive. I say that I knew the name 
 well, and yet that was about all that I did know 
 about the town, save that it was somewhere in the 
 northern part of New York state. It was, I be- 
 lieved, little more than a village. I could reach 
 it in less than a day, so that, although a perverse 
 fate still held the name of the man in the brown 
 derby from me, it would not be many hours be- 
 fore I had it from him himself. Nancy, of course, 
 thought that I already knew it, was sure that Mrs. 
 Lathrop had given me her note, the note which 
 may have ended with his name. It was a name 
 evidently so familiar, and so distasteful, that the 
 caution of repeating it had not occurred to her. 
 It would have made things easier, but, after all, I 
 had the essential fact, and knew where she was. 
 Surely there must be a train that night and, at any 
 rate, it would not take me long to find out; but 
 when I had given my number and stood waiting 
 for the railroad information bureau's answer, I 
 realized that I was beginning to learn very thor- 
 oughly of late what fear was. Perhaps there was 
 only one train a day, and that did not leave until 
 some time in the morning. I think I must have
 
 i;8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 startled that impersonal human time-table who an- 
 swered my call by replying quite unconsciously, 
 " Thank God," when he told me that I could go on to 
 Syracuse that night and connect with the train for 
 Winford in the morning; but I suppose a human 
 time-table must hear many queer things. 
 
 My train did not leave until nine, which gave me 
 five hours to make whatever preparations I wished ; 
 twice as much time as I needed and five times as 
 much time as I desired. But I had barely hung 
 up the receiver before the telephone bell rang. 
 The clerk's voice answered my impatient " What is 
 it?" 
 
 " There's a lady down here," he said, " who's 
 inquiring for you. Do you wish to see her ? " 
 
 " What is her name ? " I asked. 
 
 The clerk laughed. 
 
 " Another of your mysterious friends," he said. 
 " She just wants to know if you are here, and if 
 she can see you. She says her name doesn't matter, 
 but I'll admit she's quite respectable. I have her 
 waiting in the parlor." 
 
 "All right," I replied; "I'll be down in a min- 
 ute." 
 
 She was so bonneted and shawled that at first 
 I did not recognize her. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Ellsworth," she said, " I must say, 
 you're a poor correspondent." 
 
 " Why, it's Mrs. Lathrop! " I cried. " What on
 
 I HEAR NEWS 179 
 
 earth brings you here ? " Then in sudden, silly 
 hope, " Have you heard any news? " 
 
 " I should say not. That's why I came in. I 
 couldn't sleep a wink for thinking about you and 
 that young lady, and I looked all this morning for 
 a telegram or something from you. Then I just 
 locked up the house and started for New York. 
 It's kind of been borne in on my mind that I was 
 a pretty big fool to let those rascals fool me. It's 
 bad enough for a woman to fool a woman, but 
 when a man can do it, too, it is time she was doing 
 something about it. I argued it out to myself that 
 if they were slick enough to fool me, you'd be a 
 baby to them. Oh, I know, all you men think 
 you're awfully independent and clever and all that, 
 and I suppose you feel hurt at my speaking so 
 plainly; but you all were babies once, you know, 
 and you never seem to get over it the way the girl 
 babies do. Why, Adam would have never found 
 the spunk to get out of that baby kindergarten Eden 
 place to a real interesting world where something 
 was going on and folks wore clothes like grown- 
 ups, unless Eve had put him up to it. So here I 
 am, and here I stay until we find out something. 
 Has anything happened already? " 
 
 " Yes," I said, " a good deal has happened. 
 Just a few minutes ago I got a letter from my 
 wife; so that now I know where she is, and I am 
 going to start there to-night."
 
 i8o THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop took off her shawl and tossed it 
 into a chair. 
 
 " All right," she said. " What time do we have 
 to start?" 
 
 "We?" I repeated. 
 
 " Yes, we. When I said I was here to stay I 
 didn't mean at this hotel. I meant here, right on 
 this job." 
 
 " But, Mrs. Lathrop," I protested, " I don't see 
 how that is possible. In the first place it is dan- 
 gerous; in the second place I am going away up 
 in the northern part of the state." 
 
 "Well, what of it? I didn't expect to sit here 
 in New York and twiddle my thumbs. I'm mostly 
 a stay-at-home body, Mr. Ellsworth, but when I 
 do start out anywhere I generally go all the way. 
 You can't scare me with * dangers.' What do you 
 mean by it ? " 
 
 " Well," I replied, " I was sand-bagged yester- 
 day, for instance." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop folded her hands decisively. 
 
 " That's enough," she said; " it's even worse than 
 I expected. Perhaps you will say, young man, that 
 that would have happened if I had been along." 
 
 I laughed ; for she looked so much like a ruffling, 
 fierce, little bird. 
 
 !< Yes, I know that's a man's answer," she said ; 
 " you always laugh when you haven't anything to 
 say, but it's as plain as the nose on your face that
 
 I HEAR NEWS 181 
 
 you need to be taken care of. Now don't argue 
 about it, for I'm coming along and that's all there 
 is to it. If you think I'm going to sit there at 
 home, doing nothing but worry myself into a 
 nervous breakdown, you're very much mistaken." 
 
 I was puzzled. Her proposal, although it seemed 
 so absolutely impossible, was made with such force 
 and determination that, as a matter of fact, I really 
 was at a loss for a reply. And the more I thought, 
 the less impossible it seemed, and I found myself 
 secretly arguing on her side, touched by her whole- 
 hearted interest, and, in spite of my better judg- 
 ment, pleased at the prospect of companionship. 
 
 " Very well," I said, at length, " you can come." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop sniffed. " Thank you," she said ; 
 " I was going to do that anyhow." 
 
 " But," I went on, a little disconcerted, " I want 
 you fully to realize that I really think you may 
 run into some danger. I know that is a queer thing 
 to say in these modern times of ours, but it has 
 been proved to me already that an unscrupulous 
 man fighting for his desire, and feeling himself 
 above or outside the law, will use unexpected and 
 dangerous weapons. Of course if you come I shall 
 do my best to protect you " 
 
 "Protect fiddlesticks," said Mrs. Lathrop; "you 
 just get me off your mind and I will do all the pro- 
 tecting that's going to be done." 
 
 " Very well," I laughed, " I merely wanted to
 
 182 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 warn you. Now, Mrs. Lathrop, I have an errand 
 to do, or rather a couple of errands. Would you 
 rather wait for me here, or would you rather come 
 along?" 
 
 " I would rather come along," said Mrs. Lathrop. 
 " What are your errands ? " 
 
 " I thought in the first place that I would look 
 up a detective agency and get one of their men to 
 help us." 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Lathrop. " Don't you go wast- 
 ing your money on any of those silly detectives. I 
 had a cousin once who hired one of them to detect 
 who stole a silver tea-pot. And he detected around 
 for a couple of weeks, and after he'd accused the 
 cook, who had been with her twenty years, he got 
 mad and sent in a bill that would have paid for 
 a whole tea-set, and said the thief had probably 
 melted it up. My cousin got so worked up about 
 it that she looked over the house again herself, 
 and found the tea-pot shoved back on the pantry- 
 shelf. Those fellows are just a waste of money. 
 If you and I can't find out anything that needs 
 to be found out, nobody can. What's your other 
 errand?" 
 
 I gave up the detective without argument, as I 
 felt reluctant myself to engage one. " My other 
 errand," I said, " is to buy a good revolver." 
 
 " That errand's just as foolish as the other one,"
 
 I HEAR NEWS 183 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop commented decisively. " Land 
 knows, you look strong enough to take care of 
 yourself without one; and a revolver is a dreadful 
 temptation. A body gets pushed in a corner, or 
 gets mad or something, especially if he happens 
 to be a young man like you, and the first thing he 
 knows he has gone and shot somebody and trouble's 
 just commenced. The real gun's the kind I carry." 
 Before my amazed eyes she reached for a small 
 traveling-bag, opened it, and took out what seemed 
 to me a very serviceable revolver. " Now this," 
 she continued, " is of some use and doesn't ever get 
 you into any trouble. You see, it looks like a re- 
 volver and so does all the scaring necessary when 
 there's any scaring to be done; and when you have 
 to shoot, it shoots; but it doesn't go making holes 
 in people that you can't undo. It's what they call 
 a Ki-yi gun. Maybe you know them. They carry 
 them in automobiles for dogs sometimes. This one 
 I keep for tramps, I live alone so much. It works 
 with a spring and a bulb somewhere on its insides, 
 and you load it with water, or cologne, or ammonia, 
 or whatever you want ; it all depends on how mean 
 your disposition is. This time I put in some house- 
 hold ammonia before I left the house in hopes I 
 might get a crack at that trained nurse. The last 
 tramp I shot I only used cologne. I guess you 
 could have heard him roar for half a mile. I sup-
 
 i8 4 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY . 
 
 pose he thought he had been blinded for life. It 
 stops them every time, Mr. Ellsworth, and that's 
 all you need of a gun." 
 
 The idea was so original and so plausible that 
 Mrs. Lathrop rose still further in the high place 
 she held in my estimation. 
 
 " I am quite convinced, Mrs. Lathrop," I said. 
 " I see that I am to be under very good protection." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop smiled. " I suppose you mean 
 that for a joke, but you just wait and see. Have 
 you all the money you need? Because I have 
 brought some in case you didn't happen to have." 
 
 I stretched out my hand to her. " I can not see," 
 I said, " why you are so kind to me, why you are 
 upsetting your life and throwing yourself into such 
 a doubtful adventure for me; but God bless you 
 for it, all the same." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop took my hand and patted it, re- 
 leasing it with a sudden, embarrassed little gesture. 
 
 " Oh, well, Mr. Ellsworth, somehow I've sort of 
 taken to you," she said, " and I quite lost my heart 
 to that poor young lady. Then, too, I want to get 
 even with that doctor and that nurse. I don't sup- 
 pose you'd believe it, but it's so; I get awful tired 
 of living there alone with nothing ever happening. 
 It's one reason I rent my rooms; just to see a 
 new face once in a while ; and even that isn't what 
 you'd call leading exactly an exciting life. I says 
 to myself last night. ' Sarah Lathrop, even if your
 
 I HEAR NEWS 185 
 
 heart wasn't in it, which it is, here's a chance for 
 you to get right out where things are doing, and 
 travel around a little and get over the fidgets.' 
 If I was a man, Mr. Ellsworth, I sometimes am 
 afraid that I might have been a highway robber, 
 I do get so tired of just the same thing every day." 
 
 Her expression was such an incongruous mixture 
 of swaggering, swashbuckling abandon and awed 
 apology at the darkness of her own conception of 
 herself, that I could not keep from laughing. 
 
 " Laugh if you like," said Mrs. Lathrop, " and 
 I do suppose it's funny, but all the same it must 
 be pretty pleasant to go galloping down the road 
 in a black mask with swords and knives and pistols 
 all over you, and the lord mayor's watch in your 
 pocket, and the king's soldiers beating the woods 
 for you. Suppose you ring for some tea, Mr. Ells- 
 worth, and tell me about how you got sand-bagged." 
 
 So over the tea-cups I told the story of my recent 
 adventures (not without some shame for the part 
 I had played in them), to this little, bird-like 
 woman, who, but for the matter of a kind heart, 
 sex, and a century or so, might have been galloping 
 away with the timepiece of the outraged head of a 
 corrupt municipal government.
 
 XIX 
 
 A JOURNEY TO THE COUNTRY 
 
 IT was a novel experience to talk to another 
 human being about myself; but Mrs. Lathrop 
 had the wonderful and unusual conversational gift 
 of being able to listen, and I soon found it easy 
 and pleasant enough, as I suppose any man does 
 once he is given the opportunity. She interrupted 
 me from time to time with an abrupt question 
 or caustic comment ; so that, when dinner time came 
 unexpectedly, we walked into the dining-room to- 
 gether with a firm feeling of friendship that ably 
 counterfeited an acquaintanceship of years' stand- 
 ing, and for the morrow we had made and dis- 
 cussed a hundred plans. 
 
 " Now," said Mrs. Lathrop, as we sat down at 
 table, " we aren't going to say a thing here in this 
 dining-room about what we're going to do. I 
 don't suppose either of us can get it entirely out 
 of our heads, but we are going to try to all we can. 
 Little interests are the only things to talk about 
 when you are eating. I've always held that, 
 while you're considering a good dinner at all, it 
 deserves the first consideration. It isn't very often, 
 
 1 86
 
 A JOURNEY TO THE COUNTRY 187 
 
 either, that I dine with a young gentleman in a 
 New York hotel, and I want you to help me make 
 the most of it. Please order the nicest things you 
 know how, outlandish things, if we can make a 
 meal of them, and things nobody could find in a 
 cook-book. It's a pleasure once in a while to eat 
 something you can't even pronounce. Every- 
 day food is good enough for every day, but on 
 special occasions even beef is better for being in 
 disguise." 
 
 I looked over the bill of fare, therefore, with care 
 and deliberation, and to please her gave the whole 
 order in French to the waiter. 
 
 "That's perfectly lovely," said Mrs. Lathrop; 
 " I couldn't understand a word you said. Do you 
 think the waiter could ? " 
 
 " Well, he pretended he could," I replied, " so 
 he'll probably bring us something." 
 
 I strongly suspect that this was all a device of 
 my new friend's to beguile me, for a little, away 
 from my weariness and anxiety. And although, 
 try as I would, I could not quite put away my 
 mental uneasiness, yet even the trying helped, and 
 I got up from the table strengthened and refreshed. 
 In fact, we had eaten with such Epicurean leisure 
 that we found we had only just a comfortable 
 amount of time in which to make the train. The 
 subway station was not far off, and we walked to 
 it through the pleasant May evening. When we
 
 1 88 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 were near it Mrs. Lathrop laid a hand upon my 
 arm. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, " I am hypnotized with too 
 much story of adventure and very likely I am fool- 
 ish, but it does seem to me, Mr. Ellsworth, as if 
 you were being followed again." 
 
 " What makes you think so? " I asked. 
 
 " Well, ever since we left the hotel, there has 
 been a man about half a block back, who has taken 
 every turn that we have and who has never caught 
 up to us or dropped any more behind." 
 
 " You may be right," I said. " We shall see 
 as soon as we get into the subway." 
 
 So, after we descended the stairs, instead of 
 crossing directly to the ticket booth, we stepped 
 aside into an angle. Two or three people hurried 
 past us. I was following one of them with my 
 eyes, when abruptly Mrs. Lathrop pinched my arm, 
 and .1 looked up to see the gaunt form of the 
 Reverend Mr. Stevens. He stood almost with his 
 back to us, anxiously scanning the platform. 
 After an agonizing moment he moved forward. 
 
 "Yes," I whispered to Mrs. Lathrop, "that is 
 the man who married me, the man of the Seventh 
 Avenue saloon, the man who probably sand-bagged 
 me in the park." 
 
 " He looks ornery enough," she whispered back. 
 " I tell you what you do, Mr. Ellsworth. He'll 
 turn around and see us in a moment. You just
 
 A JOURNEY TO THE COUNTRY 189 
 
 get the tickets and we'll go through. Course you 
 couldn't do anything to him right here on the plat- 
 form; besides, you've got your hands full of bags. 
 So, when we're through the gate, we'll separate 
 a little, and I'll meet you up by the information 
 bureau at the Grand Central. If he sees you, you 
 just wait as if you didn't notice, and, when the 
 train comes in, wait until almost the last moment, 
 and then make a dash for the door. I'll manage, 
 somehow, to get in his way. Oh, no, I won't get 
 hurt. I know that I'm little, but I'm wiry. Then, 
 you see, I can come along by the next train." 
 
 " But won't he simply follow you then? " I pro- 
 tested. 
 
 " I don't believe so," said Mrs. Lathrop. " You 
 see, he hasn't had a real good look at me, yet. 
 Besides, I'm going to be in disguise." 
 
 She slipped one hand in the pocket of her jacket, 
 and drew out and unfolded an enormous brown 
 veil in which she triumphantly swathed her head. 
 
 "Just like Dick Turpin," she whispered paren- 
 thetically behind it. " Now, you walk a little ahead 
 and drop in the tickets, and act as if you'd never 
 seen me." 
 
 Her scheme seemed reasonable enough, and cer- 
 tainly it was imperative that we give the slip to 
 the Reverend Mr. Stevens. So, when our tickets 
 had been dropped into the box, I started forward, 
 carelessly and alone, to the middle of the platform,
 
 190 
 
 leaving Mrs. Lathrop to stand where we had en- 
 tered near its farther end. I glanced at Stevens 
 and saw that he was watching me, but, of course, 
 let no glint of recognition show in my own face. 
 When the train came in I waited a moment, then 
 made for the nearest doorway ; but I had not waited 
 quite long enough, and an absent-minded, belated 
 passenger or so blocked the way. Over my 
 shoulder I saw Mr. Stevens close behind me. I 
 turned, therefore, as if I had changed my mind, 
 and then, with a sudden dash, I ran past Mrs. 
 Lathrop toward the waiting door in the first car 
 of the train. As I ran I could hear him running 
 behind me, and, passing Mrs. Lathrop, heard her 
 say, " All right." 
 
 The thing all happened in a flash. I squeezed 
 myself in past the door that the guard was already 
 commencing to shut and stood for a second, 
 squeezed in the opening, looking back over the 
 platform. The Reverend Stevens was lying flat on 
 his face, as if he had been struck by one of his 
 own familiar weapons, and Mrs. Lathrop was ab- 
 solutely nowhere to be seen. 
 
 The guard jerked me through the door angrily 
 and slammed it after me, and in another moment 
 the train began to move. And puzzling about the 
 strange disappearance of Mrs. Lathrop, I walked 
 back into the car, to find her sitting calmly, divest- 
 ing herself of her swathing " disguise."
 
 A JOURNEY TO THE COUNTRY 191 
 
 " How on earth," I whispered, dropping into the 
 seat beside her, " did you manage to do that? " 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop folded her veil and put it back in 
 her pocket, in an amused triumph she made but 
 little effort to conceal. 
 
 " You owe me a new umbrella, Mr. Ellsworth," 
 she said. " I broke mine sticking it between those 
 long legs. You could hear him rattle as he came 
 down. Scripture tells us, Mr. Ellsworth, that an 
 eye for an eye is a wicked and by-gone rule; but 
 I don't know that it says anything anywhere about 
 a rib for a rib, so that I can't feel very sorry about 
 breaking my umbrella. It's lucky that I managed 
 to squeeze into that rear door though, for if he 
 ever had been able to get up again, I guess he would 
 have had me arrested, and you would have had 
 to go on to Winford all alone. I would have got 
 my picture in the paper, too, a thing which never 
 yet has happened to any of our family." 
 
 From my wakeful upper berth that night, once 
 or twice I heard an audible and reminiscent chuckle 
 from that middle-aged adventuress below me, a 
 soothing chuckle that, I think, was largely responsi- 
 ble for a mental relaxation which brought sleep 
 to me; an uneasy sleep, to be sure, but one from 
 which I awoke refreshed, to find Mrs. Lathrop al- 
 ready up and waiting for me as we drew into Syra- 
 cuse. 
 
 We breakfasted in the station, and had an un-
 
 I 9 2 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 eventful three hours' trip to Winford. Winford, 
 like many other little towns in upper New York 
 state, looked as if it had been picked up whole 
 by some careful hurricane, and, being torn from 
 its New England roots, had been gently dropped 
 upon its present site. There was the same long 
 village street, that split on two sides of a tree- 
 arched, common green. The houses were white 
 or yellow, commodious and comfortable, set apart 
 with broad elbow room and approached by little, 
 box-bordered walks. Big rambling houses they 
 were, whose low attached kitchens led into still 
 lower, but still attached, wood-sheds, which gave 
 in turn upon barns almost as large as the houses 
 themselves, and furnished snug and covered ways 
 between the two-footed and the . four-footed 
 worlds, ways that must have been grateful enough 
 on howling blizzard nights. And behind them we 
 could see the bowered beauty of helter-skelter gar- 
 dens, commencing already to bloom with the sweet, 
 old-fashioned, familiar flowers that gladdened 
 dead and bygone eyes in the days when America 
 was American. 
 
 " Pretty, isn't it? " said Mrs. Lathrop. " Pretty 
 and quiet and peaceful. I feel sometimes as if I 
 would like nothing better than to live in a town 
 like this for always, and then I know perfectly 
 well that I couldn't. I don't know what it is, per- 
 haps it is too peaceful ; sort of like a cemetery."
 
 A JOURNEY TO THE COUNTRY 193 
 
 I drew a long breath of the sweet air, that bore 
 faintly the indescribable smell of box and the 
 faintly cloying, unearthly fragrance of lilies of the 
 valley. 
 
 " I know what you mean," I said. " I think it is 
 because we have lived so long away that we feel 
 uncomfortable among once intimate and unheeded 
 ghosts." 
 
 For a little while both of us walked on in silence. 
 Then Mrs. Lathrop shrugged her shoulders as if 
 she were shrugging back common sense. 
 
 " Are you just going for a walk through the 
 town," she asked, " or have you any definite place 
 in mind ? " 
 
 " I thought I would go to the post-office first," 
 I said. " I have a letter to write and mail and, 
 if there are lodgings to be had in town, we shall 
 be apt to find notice of them there." 
 
 " I guess you're right," said Mrs. Lathrop, and 
 for a while we walked on again in silence. 
 
 The post-office we found, as I had half expected, 
 a branch industry of the general store. I bought 
 paper and envelopes and, while Mrs. Lathrop 
 poked about and asked questions of the proprietor, I 
 sat down, by his invitation, at the post-office desk 
 and wrote a letter to my friend, Mr. Ogilby, telling 
 him of my letter from Nancy, my encounter with 
 Mr. Stevens, and our journey here, and dropped 
 it sealed and addressed into the convenient mail
 
 194 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 bag that hung open-mouthed on my side of the mail 
 chute. 
 
 " Now you come right along, Mr. Ellsworth," 
 said Mrs. Lathrop when I had finished writing. 
 " You see," she continued animatedly, when we left 
 the store, " I know as much about the town now as if 
 I was the official guide. There isn't anybody can 
 tell you so much about folks as the village post- 
 master, especially since postal-cards have got 
 so popular. This one is a pretty talkative man, 
 too, so that now I know nearly as much as he does. 
 There is a sort of hotel a few doors farther on, 
 but I don't think that we had better go there. From 
 all I can make out, it isn't used by much of any- 
 body except the cheap kind of traveling-men that 
 come to such little places as this, and they're as 
 talkative as the dressmaker. The way they sell 
 their goods is to throw in a free budget of all the 
 news that's happened in three states and we would 
 be entirely too interesting to them. But there's 
 a little place farther on where they take summer 
 boarders, and that will look much more natural. 
 Even so, you had better register under another 
 name." 
 
 " Have you anything to suggest ? " I asked. 
 
 " I'll lend you mine. You can write yourself 
 down as John Lathrop, and we'll tell them you're 
 my nephew. I'll adopt you as my nephew right 
 now, so there won't be any lie about it."
 
 A JOURNEY TO THE COUNTRY 195 
 
 "Thank you, Aunt Sally," I said; "I'll try to 
 be a good nephew to you. As a matter of fact, I 
 always have regretted my lack of an aunt." 
 
 " That's very nice of you, John," said Mrs. 
 Lathrop. 
 
 ,We registered therefore as Mrs. Sarah Lathrop 
 and John Lathrop of New Haven, Connecticut, a 
 city we both knew well enough to answer questions 
 about. Being early comers, we got good rooms 
 in the front of the house, and at luncheon had the 
 dining-room mostly to ourselves. 
 
 " We have come to the right place," said Mrs. 
 Lathrop, as we got up from table. 
 
 " Yes, it's very decent," I answered. 
 
 " I mean the right town," said Mrs. Lathrop. " I 
 thought I'd let you get your luncheon in peace, 
 John, before telling you. But I was looking out 
 of my window just before I came down, and there 
 went that Doctor Morrison walking up the street as 
 bold as brass, and scowling as though he had a 
 grudge against all the world."
 
 XX 
 
 NANCY AGAIN 
 
 THE " sanatorium " we found with some diffi- 
 culty. Even at our lodgings we were afraid 
 to ask open questions or to betray any direct object 
 for our visit. Nancy's letter had been so positive 
 that the place was guarded with extraordinary pre- 
 caution (and indeed, if the place was what she 
 thought it was, its proprietors had need of the utmost 
 vigilance), that we felt sure they must have some 
 means of keeping in touch with all the current news 
 of the town, and that the inquisitiveness of new ar- 
 rivals would soon be brought to their notice. So, 
 although the only plan we thought of was an in- 
 direct and a slow one, yet we chose it for its very 
 safety. It consisted simply in having ourselves 
 driven about the country in our easy role of summer 
 visitors, and in asking questions of the driver about 
 every place we passed. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon before we found it, 
 an innocent-looking place enough, I suppose, but to 
 me, knowing what I did, and with the thought of 
 Nancy shut up there, it seemed as menacingly dis- 
 mal as the House of Usher. 
 
 196
 
 NANCY AGAIN 197 
 
 Certainly its architecture was sufficiently horrible. 
 It was one of those singular architectural freaks 
 more common to forty years ago than to the saner 
 present time, and was built, I suppose, to represent a 
 Rhine castle; for it was broad and rather low, with 
 here and there an unmeaning turret, and with its 
 flat roof hidden by castellated battlements. In 
 stone it might have been a dignified eyesore, but 
 in its palpable wooden imitation it was a ludicrous 
 one. 
 
 The place was somewhat in disrepair. Here and 
 there a battlement had rotted and fallen away, 
 or an oblong discoloration of the walls showed the 
 loss of a plank that had once hardily masqueraded 
 as granite. Even the ivy, that ran darkly over its 
 walls, and stretched lighter tendrils to the roof it- 
 self, seemed not so much the happy refuge of a 
 thousand twittering birds, as all decent ivy should, 
 but rather some great wave that had swept sullenly 
 against the rotting, tawdry splendor, running its de- 
 vouring fingers to the falling battlements, a wave 
 that must slowly recede again and with its next 
 surge engulf this obstructing corruption in its own. 
 When we had driven past, and I looked back at it, 
 the windows on that side reflected in distortion 
 some brightness of the sun, and I saw for the first 
 time that they were barred. Mrs. Lathrop sitting 
 beside me gave a little shiver. 
 
 " Are you cold ? " I asked her.
 
 198 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " No," she answered shortly ; nor during the rest 
 of our drive, which I now made as brief as possible, 
 did she vouchsafe another word. But when we had 
 gone up to our private sitting-room she turned to 
 me. 
 
 " What are you going to do now, Mason Ells- 
 worth? " she asked. 
 
 " I am going right back," I said, " as quickly as 
 I safely can. I don't quite know what I am going 
 to do when I get there, but of course I am going to 
 find Nancy if possible, and if I can't, I'm going to 
 reconnoiter and see how I can get into the place." 
 
 "Well, hurry," said Mrs. Lathrop. 
 
 "You may be sure I will do that," I replied. 
 " It was yourself who advised me to go slow." 
 
 " I know," said Mrs. Lathrop, " and of course 
 you must go slow, but for all that, hurry as much 
 as you can; for I did not fully realize what it was 
 until I saw it. My heart is cold with it yet ; and that 
 sweet young lady is in there, and I am partly re- 
 sponsible." 
 
 " That, of course, is absurd," I answered. " If 
 anybody is responsible, I am. But I shall have her 
 out of there, Mrs. Lathrop, even if I have to hurt 
 somebody to do it" 
 
 " Hurt anybody you like," she snapped ; " I'm 
 sure they deserve it ; only be careful not to get your- 
 self in trouble. Remember, you have to keep your- 
 self free and unhampered."
 
 NANCY AGAIN 199 
 
 When I got back to the place again, I hid myself 
 behind a big clump of bushes on the opposite side 
 of the road. Behind me was empty farm land, so 
 that I felt myself secure from observation and able 
 to give my undivided attention to studying the san- 
 atorium and the grounds about it. 
 
 I sat for some time peering through the branches 
 of my leafy cover, and had about made up my 
 mind that the guard was less vigilant than Nancy 
 supposed, when a man came into view about the 
 eastern corner of the place. He looked about him 
 cautiously for a moment, and called up, apparently 
 to the blank wall of ivy, " Hey, Jim." 
 
 " Yes," a voice answered, " what is it ? " 
 
 " Got a chew ? " the man asked. 
 
 From behind the battlements of the roof another 
 figure rose. 
 
 "Sure," he said; "catch," and tossed something 
 to the waiting man below. " What time is it ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " About half -past five," the man on the ground 
 answered. " I wish it was six." 
 
 " So do I," said the man on the roof, and sank 
 down out of sight, while the other resumed his 
 leisurely round. 
 
 But now that I knew where to look, from time to 
 time, I could catch a glimpse of the forehead and 
 eyes of the man on the roof, as he peered cau- 
 tiously through the castellated barrier; and I
 
 200 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 thanked Heaven that I had hidden myself, and was 
 doubly thankful that evidently I had been able to 
 hide myself unobserved. Apparently at six o'clock 
 the guards were to be changed, and I wondered if 
 the place was so watched and patrolled both night 
 and day. I knew, at least, that the night would be 
 dark, and that the moon, by which I had seen the 
 night prowler at Marbury, would no longer make the 
 world too bright for prowlings of my own. 
 
 I settled myself down behind my bush, stretching 
 out my cramped limbs to wait as best I could the 
 coming darkness. Infrequent pedestrians passed 
 my hiding-place, and once or twice some country 
 conveyance rattled by; but no one stopped or made 
 any attempt to go into the sanatorium. Indeed, I 
 thought the villagers who passed me quickened their 
 pace a little as they went by the grounds and glanced 
 askance at the ominous old building as if it were 
 something to fear. At ten minutes to six the watch- 
 man who patrolled the grounds passed in front 
 of the building, and at ten minutes past 
 another man, whom I supposed to be his six 
 o'clock relief, came into view. This man, I 
 noticed with regret, was much more careful and 
 alert, probably a more trustworthy person for the 
 difficult night watch. But I was encouraged to find 
 that these rounds of the watchman were made with 
 an almost exact regularity, that there were twenty 
 minutes between each coming and going. And I
 
 NANCY AGAIN 201 
 
 hoped, once darkness had set in, to be able to do 
 much in those twenty minutes. Of course there 
 was always the watchman on the roof, but, if the 
 night were dark enough, I thought my chances good 
 of escaping observation. 
 
 But darkness, which in a working day seems to 
 come so unexpectedly, as if it were thrown over 
 the world like a great blanket, lingered unbeliev- 
 ably. The tender glory of sunset grayed into twi- 
 light as slowly as if some new and not quite om- 
 nipotent Joshua, unable absolutely to stop the sun, 
 had at least malignly retarded it just below the 
 horizon line. But at length twilight was an accom- 
 plished thing, and with it the windows in the build- 
 ing opposite flared here and there into barred ob- 
 longs of brightness, until dark shades were drawn, 
 and the windows were only thin, penciled, golden 
 parallelograms in the somber blankness of the im- 
 penetrable wall of black. It was ten minutes of 
 nine before I judged it dark enough to make my 
 attempt. The watchman, I thought, must just have 
 passed. 
 
 Through my long watch I had studied the place 
 very carefully, in imagination pacing over and over 
 again the road I should take to the building, so 
 that now I stole across the road and the soft grass 
 of the lawn, going without a stumble, as softly as 
 a burglar might, until with my hand I felt the wall 
 before me. I had chosen the place where the ivy
 
 202 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 seemed thickest; for it was to be my ladder to the 
 rooms above. Now, as I searched gently among 
 the leaves for the giant parent stem, I heard a little, 
 half -suppressed cough. I had come a moment or 
 two too soon. 
 
 It had grown so dark that I could not see the 
 watchman, who was approaching me, save only 
 where his face made a lighter blur in the darkness, 
 and the white line of his collar showed more dis- 
 tinctly beneath it. I turned up the collar of my 
 coat to hide my own, and, with my head bowed, 
 backed close to the wall into the cool, soft mass of 
 long-stemmed ivy leaves. I do not know whether 
 he heard anything or not, but he stopped just in 
 front of me, and I could distinctly smell the hot 
 lacquer of his closed bull's-eye lantern, and hear his 
 breathing even above the pounding of my heart. 
 Then fate was good to both of us; he saved his 
 neck and continued on his rounds. 
 
 When I was sure that he must have turned the 
 corner, I slowly and cautiously began my climb, 
 feeling along the mighty stem and its looped and 
 twisted branches, as, holding myself tight against 
 the wall, I climbed in the darkness with groping 
 hand and foot. I must have mounted ten feet, 
 when I came upon a false window, a blank niche 
 set into the wall after the purposeless fashion of those 
 days of architectural atrocity. As I pulled myself 
 up into it the night stillness was suddenly shattered
 
 NANCY AGAIN 203 
 
 by the frightened shrilling of innumerable sparrows. 
 I shrank back into the niche, holding myself close, 
 and as much behind the vines as possible; for I 
 heard the soft whistle of the man on the roof, and 
 the thudding footsteps of the returning watchman. 
 
 " What is it ? " said the man on the ground. 
 
 " Don't know," the one above answered, " but 
 something has frightened the birds. Listen to 
 them." 
 
 The man on the ground grunted. " That's right. 
 Something's troubling them. Better have a look." 
 And, as he spoke, a long pencil of light streamed 
 from his unshuttered lantern and began to waver 
 rapidly over the base of the wall. 
 
 The ivy leaves were densely thick over the de- 
 pression in which I stood, but I very much doubted 
 if I could remain concealed, and thought that at 
 best I could only fight for it, and get away perhaps 
 with my face unknown. The lantern light was pick- 
 ing out vivid patches of ivy leaves, sweeping from 
 side to side along the length of the building, and 
 with every sweep mounting a little higher. Sud- 
 denly the watchman started forward, striking out 
 with his stick, which mowed half an armful of 
 leaves from the wall; and into the vivid circle of 
 the lantern's light leaped a great black cat with blaz- 
 ing eyes, a very devil of a cat that, yet, must surely 
 have been Heaven sent. 
 
 ".What is it? " called the voice from the roof.
 
 204 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 The man below me laughed and shut his lantern 
 slide. 
 
 " Cookie's cat on a still hunt," he replied, " but his 
 eyes looked out at me as if some of them really 
 had gone loony." 
 
 " Careful," said the man on the roof. 
 
 The birds were still circling around me in the 
 darkness, lighting and flying off restlessly again, 
 scolding, chattering and screaming as sparrows will, 
 and, as I knew that I must disturb still more of 
 them, I climbed quickly, under cover of the present 
 disturbance. In a minute more of climbing I came 
 to a window, open, save for the bars before it, and 
 a green drawn curtain inside which scarcely stirred 
 in the soft May air. Very cautiously I stretched 
 my hand out and pushed the shade aside the fraction 
 of an inch, until I could see the room within. It 
 was bare as a room in a hospital ; a dejected-looking 
 young man sat on the edge of the bed, reading a 
 tattered paper novel, and he was all alone. I re- 
 leased the curtain, and edged along sideways to the 
 next lighted window. In this room a middle-aged 
 woman paced the floor nervously, and, after a glance, 
 I went along still farther, peering in window after 
 window, as I came to them ; and with each glimpse 
 into the barren brightness, my anger rose. 
 
 It seemed scarcely possible that such a place could 
 exist, that in a kindly world such heartless cruelty 
 could be planned and countenanced by man; for, as
 
 NANCY AGAIN 205 
 
 Nancy had written me, here were men, women and 
 even children, each one locked in and alone, and 
 each, as far as I was able to judge, absolutely sane. 
 There were many faces, to be sure, where sorrow 
 had written indelible lines; faces where any last 
 gleam of hope seemed to have flickered and gone 
 out, leaving the mind drearily blank, a sterile field, 
 ploughed and made ready for the poison seeds of 
 madness. I was tempted more than once to tear 
 the very bars from the window and to fight my way 
 in to whatever devil might be in charge, that he 
 might lead me the more quickly to Nancy. Once 
 I had found her, once I had her safe and beyond 
 this present danger, I made up mind that these other 
 unfortunates, who suffered here with her, who had 
 some of them probably been here for years, should 
 be set free, that the whole abomination should be 
 opened up with the flooding light of state authority. 
 But now I cared only to find Nancy herself, to find 
 her and take her away. 
 
 Once, as I paused before a window, I was nearly 
 discovered; for an old gentleman raised the shade 
 of the room with a jerk, that he might look out 
 restlessly into the night. It was only his poor eye- 
 sight and the unaccustomed darkness that gave me 
 time to dodge beyond his range of vision. I had 
 come to the last window of all, and had raised the 
 shade perfunctorily before climbing to the floor 
 above, when I found Nancy.
 
 XXI 
 
 A WORD 
 
 THE room was much like the others into which 
 I had looked, bare, with a sort of sickening 
 imitation of institutional cleanliness. The walls 
 were unrelieved by a single picture, and save that 
 they were here and there blotched or cracked with 
 age, looked, as I have said, very much like the walls 
 of a private room in a hospital. The broad boards 
 of the floor were bare also, and at some rather re- 
 mote time had been painted a nondescript green. 
 The room was almost without furnishings. A 
 rickety dresser stood against one wall, a painted 
 iron-frame wash-stand with tin pitcher and bowl 
 occupied a corner, and across the room from the 
 dresser and against the opposite wall was a little, 
 single, iron bed, whose coverings, although clean, 
 were in a state of crying disrepair. There was 
 also a wooden chair in the room, as there was in 
 each of the others. The only piece of furniture that 
 at all distinguished it was a great, tumbledown, easy 
 chair, whose tattered velvet was half hidden by an 
 old steamer rug. 
 
 206
 
 A WORD 207 
 
 Nancy was seated in this chair with her back 
 turned almost squarely upon the window. The 
 dress in which I had last seen her had been replaced 
 by a plain garment of striped gingham such as 
 trained nurses wear, and which, I suppose, was an 
 extra precaution against her escape, a modified 
 form of prison dress. Some little rustle of the win- 
 dow shade, perhaps, made her turn her face toward 
 the window, and I saw that she was pale and had 
 been crying. 
 
 " Nancy," I whispered, " Nancy." 
 
 She sprang to her feet and stood looking about 
 her, one slim hand raised fearfully to her heart. 
 " Did somebody call ? " she asked. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," I said. " It is I, Mason. 
 Here at the window." 
 
 She crossed the room uncertainly, as if she had 
 heard many voices of late, or had waited so anx- 
 iously to hear, that now she could not believe. 
 
 " You, Mason. You ! " she whispered. 
 
 " Yes, I climbed up the ivy. I am here at the 
 window. I have come to take you home again." 
 
 She knelt on the floor beside the window, and 
 I raised the shade a little, so that now we looked 
 into each other's eyes. 
 
 " My dear, my dear," I said, " are you well ? 
 Is everything all right here? " 
 
 Nancy drew a long, shuddering breath. " Oh, 
 Mason, I am so glad, glad you have come. I have
 
 2 o8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 been so worried about you. I was afraid afraid 
 they might have killed you." 
 
 " I don't think they would go quite so far as 
 that," I laughed. 
 
 " I don't know, Mason," Nancy said very seri- 
 ously. "They frighten me. They are capable of 
 almost anything wicked, desperate or wrong, and 
 I am afraid for you even now. It is mad of you 
 to be clinging there with your face to the bright 
 light. I am going to pull down the shade." 
 
 " Don't," I said. " The watchman won't be 
 round again for ten minutes at least, and I want to 
 see you." 
 
 " No," said Nancy, " it is too dangerous. I am 
 going to pull it down. We can talk just as well 
 from different sides of the curtain." 
 
 "Bdt " I protested. 
 
 " No," said Nancy firmly, " it has to be." Then 
 with a little flush and so softly that I could scarcely 
 hear the whisper, " Kiss me, dear." 
 
 She bent forward so that her face pressed close 
 against the cruel, rusting bars of iron, the wondrous 
 mystery of her beauty tenderly enfolding her. The 
 dear, brave eyes looked into mine for an eternal 
 instant, then fell as I bent and kissed her lips. The 
 agonies of hell could not have frightened me then. 
 
 ' You are coming with me now, now," I said, 
 and stretched one hand to a bar of the iron grating, 
 which bent in my hand.
 
 Nancy," I whispered, " Nancy "
 
 A WORD 209 
 
 Nancy caught my wrist with a quick, restraining 
 little gesture. " No, Mason, not that way," she 
 said. " It is too dangerous for you. Yes, too 
 dangerous for both of us. I am going to pull down 
 the shade, and you must talk to me quietly; for of 
 course you can take me away, to-morrow, perhaps, 
 and there is no immediate danger." 
 
 " No danger," I repeated ; " why, Nancy, the place 
 is horrible." 
 
 ' Then you had better not look at it any more," 
 said Nancy, and pulled down the shade. " Really, 
 dear," she continued, " it is best for both of us. 
 Even suppose that you could break these bars, and 
 I almost think you could, Mason, you would have 
 to carry me down the way you came, and it would 
 be very hard for you to do, even if the ivy were 
 strong enough to hold us. Can you hear me ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, " and I suppose you are 
 right." For the possibility of the ivy breaking un- 
 der our combined weight, and of the fall for Nancy, 
 cooled my flare of anger like a dash of cold water. 
 " I will come around to-morrow morning, then, and 
 get in on some pretext or other. Let them stop me 
 if they can." 
 
 For a moment Nancy did not answer. 
 
 "Listen, dear," she said at length. "I do not 
 know how it is going to be done. You must think 
 of that But, if possible, I want you to take me 
 away from here quietly, to depend on your wit and
 
 210 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 not your strength. For these men here have every- 
 thing at stake. This sanatorium has been running 
 for a good many years now, so that I think that 
 none of them would stop at murder itself to prevent 
 open exposure. It is a very hazardous business, 
 and it means prison for them if they are caught. 
 They must have counted on that, Mason. I think 
 they are protected by the town authorities here in 
 some way, but I am very sure that, rather than fall 
 into the hands of the state law, they would not 
 hesitate to kill you. Dear heart, you must not risk 
 all I have in the world because you are impatient 
 for me." 
 
 She was speaking almost in a whisper; but 
 through the soft, low tones of the voice I loved, 
 sounded a new and vibrant quality, a new-found 
 something as old as humanity itself, the gentle, om- 
 niscient wisdom of a woman to the man she loves. 
 What man is there that must not bow to it, yet feel 
 himself the more a man? 
 
 ' You are right," I said. " I suppose it is the 
 savage in me that makes me want to fight, Nancy. 
 But, after all, as long as I get you, the way does 
 not so very much matter. You remember Mrs. 
 Lathrop, do you not where you spent the first 
 night after after they took you? " 
 
 " Very well," said Nancy. " Did she give you 
 my note ? " 
 
 ' Yes, dear," I said ; " she gave me the note, and
 
 A WORD 211 
 
 yesterday she came to the Hotel Gloria and in- 
 sisted on coming to help to find you. She thinks 
 me a rather helpless individual, I am afraid, but I 
 have a vague idea that she really can help us, 
 Nancy. I do not know how, just at this moment, 
 but perhaps " 
 
 " Hush," said Nancy; " listen ! " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " I think they are coming, Mason, the doctors, 
 you know. You must go at once and go carefully. 
 Do you understand ? " 
 
 I heard some one knock at the door. 
 
 " You are going, Mason ? " 
 
 " As soon as I can," I said, " when the watch- 
 man's gone by." 
 
 Nancy's little hand flashed beneath the shade for 
 a moment, and I kissed it. " Good night, dear," I 
 said. 
 
 " Good night," Nancy whispered. 
 
 The knock was repeated with loud insistence. 
 
 " Yes," Nancy called. " Come in." 
 
 I lowered myself a foot or more, so that my 
 head was an inch or two below the level of the sill, 
 and held myself close against the wall, for I thought 
 that I heard the soft footstep of the watchman 
 below. 
 
 " Well, Miss Bond, how do you find yourself this 
 evening? " 
 
 The voice was a deep one, and the question was
 
 212 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 rapped out with the brisk assumption of cheeriness 
 of the professional man. 
 
 " I am quite as usual," I heard Nancy answer 
 gently. 
 
 " That's good, that's good. Delusion beginning 
 to fade?" 
 
 " I am afraid that delusion, as you call it," Nancy 
 answered, " will never fade. Doctor Mayhew, what 
 is the use of it? You can't very well keep me here 
 all my life, and I warn you I am going to persist in 
 my delusion." 
 
 " We have cured worse cases than yours," the 
 doctor answered curtly. 
 
 " I can not understand it," Nancy said. 
 
 " Understand what ? " 
 
 " Why you should be here, and doing this sort of 
 thing, Doctor Mayhew. That you, a gentleman, 
 should have fallen on such evil days; that you can 
 stoop to such meannesses as this present one, just 
 for a little money; that you can school yourself to 
 persecute a lonely girl, for a few hundred dollars or 
 so. Oh, I know you are getting rich here, but is it 
 worth all that you are giving up, Doctor May- 
 hew?" 
 
 " When a man of my profession falls once, he 
 falls for good," was the doctor's quite unexpected 
 answer. 
 
 There was bitterness and shame in the doctor's 
 voice, and I drew myself up to the sill again, listen-
 
 A WORD 213 
 
 ing intently; for perhaps here Nancy herself was 
 finding a way, a peaceful way after her own heart 
 
 " I think you are mistaken," she answered. " I 
 do not know just what you have done; but a man 
 can always make his way in the world, if he is will- 
 ing to try, and try honestly. That is, almost always. 
 Of course, if you make one slip here, if a single 
 ' patient ' is able against your will to find his way 
 back to the world, that will mean state's prison for 
 you, Doctor Mayhew. And state's prison for such 
 a crime as this means the end of opportunity. You 
 must have made a great deal of money already. 
 Can't you give this place up while you are still 
 safe?" 
 
 " To be perfectly frank with you, Miss Bond," 
 the doctor said, " I wish I could, but that is harder 
 than you innocently suppose." 
 
 As I have it here in black and white, it sounds 
 impossible, this sudden dropping of the mask, this 
 almost open confession. But as I clung listening 
 outside the window, there seemed nothing strange 
 about it. For although I dared not look, I knew 
 how sweetly Nancy stood before him, and every lit- 
 tle tone of her voice thrilled with a gentle conviction 
 and charm which must, I thought, have moved any 
 man. 
 
 But another knock sounded at the door. Doctor 
 Mayhew's " Come in," was once more incisively 
 professional.
 
 214 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Good evening, Doctor Morrison," I heard him 
 say. " Good evening, Mrs. Olsen. I am sorry not 
 to be able to report much progress." 
 
 I caught an undertone of anger in the words, as 
 if the man, startled from a dream, repented angrily 
 his moment of weakness. 
 
 " Delusion still continues ? " 
 
 " I am afraid so," said Doctor Mayhew. " What 
 course do you think we had better pursue, Doctor 
 Morrison ? " 
 
 " With your permission," said Doctor Morrison, 
 " I should like a few minutes' talk alone with the 
 patient, before I come to a decision." 
 
 The door opened and closed, and for a moment 
 there was silence. 
 
 " Still stubborn ? " the unpleasant voice asked at 
 last 
 
 " I shall never change my mind," Nancy an- 
 swered ; " you ought to know that." 
 
 " You are acting like a fool, Nancy. Do you 
 honestly think you are married ? " 
 
 " That has nothing to do with it," Nancy an- 
 swered quietly. 
 
 " It has a great deal to do with it. You are 
 making a fool of yourself for this man. How often 
 must I tell you the marriage was a farce and Stevens 
 a common jail-bird? The man you think you mar- 
 ried isn't any better than he is. Even you know 
 he did it for the money that was in it. Perhaps it
 
 A WORD 215 
 
 would interest you to know," he continued in rising 
 anger, " that the scamp has laid hands on all the 
 money he could, and that yesterday he sailed for 
 Europe. Your hero isn't worth your heroics, 
 Nancy." 
 
 Nancy laughed softly. 
 
 " You've always been a liar," she said. 
 
 " I swear that is true at least," he replied. " I 
 would stake my life on it. How long do you ex- 
 pect me to be patient? I want to marry you, and 
 I will be as good a husband as any man, you know 
 that. You don't suppose that I am going to wait 
 for ever. After all, why should I be so patient with 
 you?" 
 
 " Because," Nancy said softly, " because, after 
 all, you are a coward and very careful of yourself; 
 and because, really, you are a little afraid of me. 
 You can't keep me here all my life. I know that, 
 and so do you. Sooner or later I will get back to 
 my husband." 
 
 Doctor Morrison laughed. 
 
 " My husband," Nancy repeated. " You have 
 felt Mason Ellsworth's ringers once. I do not think 
 that you care to risk death again." 
 
 " Damn your husband ! " he said. " I'm through 
 with this foolishness. I give you one more day, 
 Nancy. We have an easy way here of handling 
 people who are too stubborn. I think you will 
 marry me willingly enough."
 
 216 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 He stepped across to the door, and in some dis- 
 tant corridor I heard the muffled whir of an electric 
 bell. I raised the curtain the fraction of an inch 
 and looked into the room. " Doctor Morrison " was 
 standing with his great sloping shoulders hunched 
 forward, broad hands opening and shutting in ugly 
 impatience, beneath his long nose the strange baby 
 mouth worked convulsively, while his close-set eyes, 
 vicious with sullen rage, flickered and shifted from 
 Nancy's head to her feet, never quite looking into 
 hers, but challenging her and desiring her. Then 
 as the door opened : 
 
 " Doctor Mayhew," he said hoarsely, " I find that 
 our treatment has so far been a failure. We will 
 wait till to-morrow, and then, if there is no change, 
 Miss Bond is to be moved to the dark room. Do 
 you understand me ? " 
 
 Doctor Mayhew, a stout, florid young man of 
 about thirty-five, flushed to the roots of his yellow 
 hair. 
 
 " Do do you think that is necessary ? " he stam- 
 mered. 
 
 " Quite," the other snapped ; " and Mrs. Olsen, 
 you are to sleep here to-night." 
 
 " Very well, doctor," said Mrs. Olsen, who was 
 evidently the nurse Mrs. Lathrop detested so much. 
 
 Nancy sighed and seated herself on the edge of 
 the bed. 
 
 Doctor Mayhew had already left. " Morrison "
 
 A WORD 217 
 
 stood in the door, a smile working at his baby 
 mouth. 
 
 " Good night, Miss Bond," he said. 
 
 Nancy did not answer, and still smiling, he went 
 out, shutting the door behind him.
 
 XXII 
 
 THE DOCTORS 
 
 BECAUSE I had promised Nancy, I climbed 
 down the ivy again, as softly as I could, and 
 gained the road unobserved. But it was the most 
 difficult restraint that I ever put upon myself. If 
 I could have had my way I should, at least, have 
 tried to tear away the iron grating from the win- 
 dow, and to fight my way down-stairs and through 
 the sanatorium, and perhaps be able to lay my hands 
 upon Doctor Morrison. I was sure that, once in the 
 room, I would have been able to take Nancy away 
 with me. But Nancy wished me to use other means 
 if I could, and, as far as I was able, I was determined 
 to try them. My own way, after all, was a selfish 
 one, and inspired for the most part by a lust for 
 fighting that was growing on me daily. But Nancy 
 was right; fighting should only be a last resort. 
 For it was even possible that Nancy herself might 
 come to some harm in that seething turmoil my soul 
 so longed for. 
 
 I found Mrs. Lathrop pacing about her little sit- 
 ting-room at the hotel. 
 
 218
 
 THE DOCTORS 219 
 
 " Ah," she said, as I opened the door, " I was be- 
 ginning to get a little worried. I never did see time 
 go so slowly." 
 
 " I had to wait for dark," I explained. 
 
 " Did you see her? " asked Mrs. Lathrop. 
 
 ' Yes," I said, and told her all my adventure. 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do now?" said 
 Mrs. Lathrop. " It looks to me as if it would be 
 pretty hard to get any one out of a sanatorium that's 
 barred and locked up, without using force." 
 
 " I don't know exactly what I can do," I admitted. 
 " The only plan I've been able to think of so far 
 is to go up and ask to see the doctor, and when I 
 see him, tie him up and take his keys away from 
 him." 
 
 "Do you call that not using force?" Mrs. La- 
 throp asked. 
 
 I smiled rather sheepishly. 
 
 " Of course that's only tentative," I said, " and it 
 wouldn't take very much force. That Doctor May- 
 hew looks pretty soft to me." 
 
 " Still, I don't think that was Mrs. Ellsworth's 
 idea of it," said Mrs. Lathrop. 
 
 " Perhaps not," I admitted. " What have you to 
 suggest ? " 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop shook her head. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," she said; "I'll think 
 a little while." 
 
 So for half an hour we sat in silence. Once or
 
 220 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 twice I started to speak, but Mrs. Lathrop waved 
 me abstractedly away. 
 
 " Well," she said at last, " I have it." 
 
 "Well?" I asked. 
 
 " I'm crazy," said Mrs. Lathrop complacently. 
 
 " You're what ? " I stammered. 
 
 " Crazy. At least, I'm not, but you say I am. 
 Listen, Mr. Ellsworth. I'm your aunt, just as we 
 told them here at the hotel, and I'm dreadful rich 
 and you're a scamp; that is, you've got to manage 
 to look like one, although, dear knows, that's the 
 weakest part of it. The rest is all easy enough. 
 You take me in a cab up to that sanatorium, and 
 ring the bell and go in with me. You'll hold me 
 by the wrist, you know, and I'll drag back." Mrs. 
 Lathrop's eyes snapped with the joy of the prospec- 
 tive drama. " And when we're in the office, you 
 ask to have the door locked, so that I can't get 
 away. Then you pull the doctor over to one side 
 and tell him about it. Say you want to leave me 
 there indefinitely. Course he needn't believe I'm 
 crazy at all, but what he has got to believe is just 
 as hard, maybe harder, for I'm a good actor and 
 you're not; and that is, that you're a wicked young 
 man, and are putting me out of the way, so that 
 you can declare me incompetent, and use my money, 
 or something like that. Money's got to come into 
 it somehow. It's the only thing, I guess, those 
 people up there understand."
 
 THE DOCTORS 221 
 
 " But," I protested, "what good would that do? 
 Suppose I could manage to leave you there, what 
 then? They'd only lock you up in one of those 
 rooms. You couldn't do anything, and then I'd 
 just have two people to get out instead of one." 
 
 "Well, that's just it," said Mrs. Lathrop. 
 " Most of those poor people there have naturally 
 been left without a cent of money. You aren't 
 going to be that mean to me. In fact, I guess you'd 
 better give me about all the money you've got. I 
 figure it out that any nurse or maid who is wicked 
 enough to work there at all would be wicked enough 
 to make four or five hundred dollars, if it was cash 
 in hand, and she saw a way of doing it easy. Then, 
 as soon as I have bought one of those maids, I'll 
 fix it so that she lets me out and Mrs. Ellsworth 
 too, and all you'll have to do is to wait outside and 
 meet us. I'll fix it to get a message to you some- 
 how." 
 
 "Well, there's another trouble," I said; "a 
 trouble I don't see how we can get around; that 
 Doctor Morrison, as he calls himself, would recog- 
 nize us both in a minute." 
 
 " I've thought of that, Mr. Ellsworth. We'll just 
 have to choose some time when Doctor Morrison 
 isn't there. Unless I'm pretty much mistaken, Doc- 
 tor Morrison isn't connected with the place at all. 
 They just let him hang around and call himself a 
 doctor because he's paid them a lot of money.
 
 222 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 There's only one patient he takes any interest in, 
 or is a doctor for. I don't see why they take the 
 trouble to pretend that much, unless it's because 
 they've pretended so long, they couldn't do a thing 
 straight if they tried. No, sir, we'll just wait 
 until he's away from the place and down here in 
 the village somewhere, and the rest will go as slick 
 as a goose's neck. Well, what are you shaking 
 your head about now ? " 
 
 " The nurse, Mrs. Olsen," I answered gloomily. 
 
 " See here," said Mrs. Lathrop, jumping up in 
 disgust, " it seems to me as if I never did see such 
 a young man to find fault. We'll just have to risk 
 that woman. I don't believe that, by the build of 
 her, they let her take care of any but the ' violents.' 
 The trouble with you is that you want to do this 
 thing all yourself." 
 
 I flushed; for although I had not recognized it, 
 my feeling had been that I was playing a rather 
 small part in the affair, that I would have to eat 
 my heart out in idleness while this little woman did 
 the dangerous work. 
 
 " Oh, it's perfectly natural," said Mrs. Lathrop. 
 " A young man going after the lady he loves always 
 wants to run into danger and hit people and make 
 a terrible time. That's the only reason there ever 
 were knights, I guess. But you take my advice, 
 Mr. Ellsworth. You get the young lady safely 
 home first, and then you can go back and do the
 
 THE DOCTORS 223 
 
 hitting and knight part of it afterward. You go 
 to bed now, and try to wake up feeling like my 
 scoundrelly nephew. Of course, if you can think 
 of any better scheme before morning, why, I'm 
 perfectly willing to try it, but if you can't, I think 
 we ought to try this one. And I'm sure that neither 
 of us can rest easy until we get her out of there." 
 
 And although I tossed half the night racking 
 my brains, Mrs. Lathrop was right, I could think of 
 no better scheme. 
 
 " The only trouble," Mrs. Lathrop said, as I 
 met her at breakfast, " is that we've got to be sure 
 when that Doctor Morrison is away. We'll have to 
 spell each other watching at the window for him. 
 You watch, while 1 write to my sister; then I'll 
 take a turn, while you write to that Mr. Ogilby. 
 You've a lot to tell him, and you've got to keep 
 your promise to him, you know, particularly as 
 we're just going to spend so much of his money. 
 I'm writing to my sister, just to make sure of 
 things. I've got to tell her something about it; 
 but you needn't be afraid; she isn't one of those 
 newsy women. If I tell her not to talk about a 
 thing, she won't. It occurred to me last night, 
 Mr. Ellsworth, after I'd got the light out, that 
 you and I ought to do this as carefully as we can. 
 I don't mean that I was the least mite scared, but 
 something might happen not according to schedule, 
 and it's just as well to have some one know where
 
 224 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 we are, in case we should suddenly disappear. So 
 I'm going to write her that unless she hears from 
 me again in a couple of days, she's to come on here 
 with all the king's horses and all the king's men 
 (which is poetry for the governor's), and split 
 that Humpty-dumpty, wooden castle into kindling 
 wood." 
 
 This was a precaution the wisdom of which I 
 could not gainsay, so that I watched while Mrs. 
 Lathrop wrote, and when she relieved me, incor- 
 porated something of the same idea in my letter to 
 Mr. Ogilby. Then I posted both our letters, and 
 ordered the hotel's only closed carriage to be ready 
 and waiting for instant call; which mysterious pro- 
 ceeding I think the hotel proprietor put down to 
 metropolitan eccentricity, an eccentricity which 
 justified one of his own in making out our bill. 
 
 We had not very long to wait before Doctor Mor- 
 rison came striding down the street, as gloomily 
 truculent as when we first saw him. We watched 
 him well out of sight, then hurried down and out 
 to our carriage and started for the sanatorium. 
 
 There was distinct disapproval in our driver's 
 face as I gave him the order, and he answered 
 me with a nod of surly contempt, which almost 
 made me feel the rascal I was pretending to be. 
 Nevertheless, he whipped up his horses, and we 
 jogged on our way to the sanatorium with all the 
 brisk abandon of a pauper funeral.
 
 THE DOCTORS 225 
 
 My ring was not answered for some time, and I 
 think that we were well scrutinized before the door 
 at length swung open, revealing to my thankful eyes, 
 not the burly Mrs. Olsen, but a bearded and still 
 more burly janitor. 
 
 " May I see Doctor Mayhew? " I asked. 
 
 The man grunted and ushered us into a com- 
 fortable little office at the head of the dark hall. 
 There were a few minutes more of waiting, then 
 Doctor Mayhew came briskly in, looking rosy and 
 cheerfully professional. 
 
 " Well," he said, " what can I do for you? " 
 
 I glanced at Mrs. Lathrop, and with half an 
 apology, stepped over and locked the door, and drew 
 the doctor aside. 
 
 " Doctor Mayhew," I began, in the best manner I 
 could muster, " you've been recommended to me 
 by some friends of mine in New York. You'll for- 
 give me if I mention no names. But you will 
 recognize them, I am quite sure, when I tell you 
 that you have under treatment an old gentleman 
 who" 
 
 Doctor Mayhew nodded. 
 
 " Quite so," he said, " quite so." Then bending 
 to my ear, " Fulson ? " he whispered. 
 
 In turn I nodded affirmation. " I have there- 
 fore," I continued, "brought my aunt to you for 
 treatment, my aunt, Mrs. Lathrop. Did I tell 
 you that my name was John Lathrop ? "
 
 226 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 "What seems to be the trouble?" asked Doctor 
 Mayhew, for all the world as if he really cared. 
 
 " She's been acting very strangely of late," I said; 
 " very strangely." 
 
 " What should you say was the distinctive char- 
 acteristic ? " 
 
 I saw that Mrs. Lathrop was watching me and 
 that she was quite well able to overhear our con- 
 versation. " She has been showing of late," I said 
 maliciously, " an unaccountable desire to start on 
 sudden journeys." 
 
 " Hum," said Doctor Mayhew reflectively. 
 
 "And," I continued, "a certain reckless disre- 
 gard of money, which she seems perfectly willing 
 to intrust to people that have really no claim on 
 her. As her nearest relative and heir " 
 
 " Mr. Lathrop, I quite understand," said Doctor 
 Mayhew, and it was quite evident that he did. For 
 at the word " money " his eyebrows had gone up, 
 and whatever doubt I had read between his eyes 
 disappeared at the magical sound. He felt himself 
 at once on a firm footing. 
 
 While we were talking, Mrs. Lathrop had crept 
 stealthily to the door, and now fumbled at the 
 lock with a histrionic furtiveness that won my 
 deepest admiration. 
 
 " Careful," I said. 
 
 Doctor Mayhew whirled at the word and, crossing 
 the little office almost at a stride, dragged the re-
 
 THE DOCTORS 227 
 
 luctant Mrs. Lathrop back to her chair and put 
 the key in his pocket; then, with a glance at me, 
 he drew another chair in front of her, and sitting 
 down, put her a few idiotically simple questions, 
 none of which Mrs. Lathrop answered, save to 
 moan in as many different keys, " I am not crazy," 
 until I trembled between anxiety and almost irre- 
 pressible laughter. 
 
 Doctor Mayhew sighed. " Very sad case, sir," 
 he said, turning to me, while Mrs. Lathrop threw me 
 a kiss over his shoulder. " You have my deepest 
 sympathy, sir. You say this poor lady has a great 
 fortune?" 
 
 And following the silent motion of Mrs. 
 Lathrop's lips: 
 
 " Only a million or so," I answered. Then as 
 an afterthought, " Of course I have been unable, 
 as yet, to determine its exact extent. As you are 
 probably aware, this can not be done until she has 
 been declared mentally incompetent, and I have been 
 appointed her legal guardian." 
 
 Doctor Mayhew looked at me shrewdly. 
 
 " It will be a very difficult case," he said, " and 
 I can not promise you that she will ever quite re- 
 gain her faculties. For cases of this sort, need- 
 ing such a variety of treatment, our uniform charge 
 is six thousand dollars a year." 
 
 "Very well," I said, "you shall have the first 
 month in advance to-morrow, by which time, I
 
 228 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 suppose, you will have the necessary papers made 
 out." 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor, " and, by the way, no 
 checks, please. Doctor Carleton, my colleague, has 
 an aversion to checks, and we find that, in general, 
 our clients themselves prefer currency." 
 
 " Very well," I agreed, as gravely as I could, 
 for Mrs. Lathrop had suddenly straightened her- 
 self from an attitude of trance-like vacancy, and 
 had started making a rabbit of her handkerchief. 
 I was in terror as to the lengths to which her 
 eager conscientiousness might carry her. 
 
 "Of course, you will give my aunt a good room 
 and proper attendance," I said, " and if you will 
 take a word of advice from me, Doctor, you will 
 see that the maid who waits on her has dark hair. 
 She has a particular aversion to blondes." 
 
 At this, Mrs. Lathrop clapped her hands in noise- 
 less admiration; for, in spite of her pretended care- 
 lessness and really wonderful courage, I think that, 
 at heart, the thought of the grim Mrs. Olsen 
 troubled her. 
 
 " We have just the person," said Doctor Mayhew. 
 "I am very glad that you brought the matter up. 
 Five hundred dollars to-morrow, then, Mr. 
 Lathrop." 
 
 '' Yes," I said ; " I am sorry I did not bring it 
 with me."
 
 THE DOCTORS 229 
 
 Doctor Mayhevv unlocked the door, and touched 
 the bell for the janitor. 
 
 " Let me know of Mr. Lathrop's arrival to-mor- 
 row immediately," he said. " Come, Mrs. Lathrop, 
 I want to show you a pretty room in this hotel." 
 
 " Boo," said Mrs. Lathrop, and shot the rabbit 
 into his face.
 
 XXIII 
 
 A LETTER 
 
 WE had arranged that Mrs. Lathrop should let 
 me know her room by raising and lower- 
 ing her shade after dark, when I could watch the 
 sanatorium without risk of discovery; and that I 
 was to climb the ivy, as I had on the previous 
 night, and hear her report of progress. It was 
 the best plan that we had been able to devise and 
 in practice I found it most unsatisfactory; the 
 greatest objection being that I had to wait in idle- 
 ness through all the daylight hours, and either 
 keep to my room, or assume an almost impossible 
 calm in public. After an hour or so, I chose my 
 room and chose it thankfully. 
 
 It is a very easy thing to fight and a very diffi- 
 cult thing to wait for the battle. People in the 
 hotel, I found, looked at me askance; my driver, 
 who had driven out with two and come back with 
 one, had probably spread the tidings of where the 
 other had been left, so that I gradually found 
 myself feeling like a scoundrel, after the need to 
 pose as one had passed. Neither could I forget 
 the mention of that " dark room," with which he 
 
 230
 
 A LETTER 231 
 
 of the brown derby had threatened Nancy. Mrs. 
 Lathrop had promised to try to get some word to 
 her, so that she might feign some thought of ac- 
 quiescence, and put off further torture until the 
 opportunity came to set her altogether beyond its 
 reach. But in my loneliness I was filled with a 
 growing dread that something might go wrong, 
 that Mrs. Lathrop would not only be unable to send 
 word to Nancy, but she herself might be recog- 
 nized by Mrs. Olsen, and our whole scheme come 
 tottering to earth. But, come what might, I de- 
 termined grimly that neither Nancy nor Mrs. 
 Lathrop should pass more than one more night 
 there, if I had to fight the whole sanatorium force 
 to get them out. 
 
 About three o'clock in the afternoon, just as I 
 was planning to wear the edge from my nervousness 
 by a long walk in the country, a knock came at my 
 door, and I opened it to admit a frowsy, bare- 
 footed urchin, who stared at me a long time curi- 
 ously, and then asked me my name. 
 
 " John Lathrop," he repeated ; " that's right ; 
 that's the right name," and he dragged out of his 
 pocket a bulky envelope, almost as frowsy as him- 
 self. " My sister give me this," he said, " and 
 said to hand it to you, but she didn't pay me 
 nothin' for bringing it." 
 
 I sent him away gaping round-eyed at a new 
 dollar bill, and locking the door, tore open the
 
 232 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 envelope with trembling fingers. It was written 
 in a fine, formal, little, old-fashioned hand, and 
 I needed no glance at the signature to know that 
 it was from Mrs. Lathrop. She had dated it irre- 
 pressibly " The Fake Loony-house, May I2th and 
 all well." 
 
 " MY SCOUNDRELLY BUT DEAR NEPHEW : 
 
 " In the first place, everything is going to come out 
 all right. In the second place, you're a pretty poor 
 actor but a little better than I expected. In the third 
 place, I would have been having the most beautiful 
 time of my life, if I weren't so sorry for all the 
 other people here. When you had gone, that pink 
 young Doctor Mayhew led me up-stairs to see the 
 ' pretty room ' he spoke of, and when we got 
 there, he just opened the door, gave me a shove in, 
 and turned the lock on the outside. If he'd had 
 his first month's instalment, I guess he would have 
 kicked me in, and I love to think of what is going 
 to happen to him some day. Just the same, I 
 was pretty glad to get to my room; for all the 
 way through those long halls, my knees were 
 knocking together for fear we'd meet that blonde 
 nurse, you said so truly, and with such presence 
 of mind, that I did not like. And, till my own 
 maid came, I kept on being pretty scared; for, of 
 course, I knew that the doctor's promises did not 
 mean much of anything, and that he was just as 
 apt to send in Mrs. Olsen if she came handy.
 
 A LETTER 
 
 233 
 
 " Don't be afraid I am writing you too much, 
 for I have a nice, new bottle of ink and a whole box 
 of paper. 
 
 " Well, pretty soon the door opened, and my 
 maid did come in. She is a nice-looking, thinnish 
 girl of about thirty, I should say, and she was 
 real kind to me even before I spoke of money. I 
 kept her talking as long as I could, and worked 
 around to our plan gradually. First, I offered her 
 fifty dollars for getting this note out of the hospital 
 and things to write it with. She laughed, at first, 
 and I guess she didn't think I had the money; but 
 when I counted ten fives off that big roll, she 
 stopped laughing and took them quick enough. 
 
 " It's a mystery to me, Nephew John, what queer 
 people go to make up a world. Here was a young 
 woman with a good heart and pretty tender feel- 
 ings, who just because she needed money for 
 somebody else, was willing to do almost anything 
 to get it. I've had a long talk with her, and I 
 find her hard to understand. She was born near 
 this place and knew all about it, yet, knowing what 
 she did, she came here to work. She couldn't 
 make enough money anywhere else, she said. She 
 has four or five little brothers and sisters and the 
 regular useless mother and father, so that I sup- 
 pose there is some excuse for her. Yet it does 
 seem queer that such a nice girl should be in such 
 a business. It was she, John, who mailed you
 
 234 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 another letter you know of, and she did that, not 
 for money, but for love; for, from all I could find 
 out, she just about worships your Nancy. When 
 I told her why I was there and what we were 
 going to do, she took the rest of the money, to be 
 sure, because she said she needed it and stood a 
 pretty good chance of losing her position, but she 
 is as enthusiastic as can be about the work I 
 have set her to do. I think that perhaps she might 
 have done it for nothing, but I did not quite have 
 the heart to ask her, nor did I quite dare to run 
 the risk. She loves your young lady, but, after 
 all, she loves money first; and when we give her 
 a chance to follow her own inclination, and at the 
 same time get paid for it, I think that we may be 
 pretty sure that she will do her work well. 
 
 "Of course the first thing I did was to send her 
 in to Nancy, to tell her I was here and that we were 
 going to get her away as soon as possible, so that 
 she was not on any account to let that ' Doctor Mor- 
 rison ' get mad enough to put her in the ' dark 
 room.' Then I arranged the rest of the plan with 
 her, the nurse, I mean. 
 
 " There isn't any use at all, as far as I can see, 
 of either of us poor women staying here, while 
 you batten at the hotel. To-night seems to me as 
 good a time as any. There's only just one trouble, 
 and that is that this maid or nurse of ours, 
 or whatever you want to call her, has no business
 
 A LETTER 235 
 
 on our floor at ten o'clock, so that she is afraid 
 to come up and let us out. After nine her work 
 is all down-stairs, where, I believe, she does some 
 clerking for the doctors; and she is afraid that 
 if she is gone long enough to come up and unlock 
 our doors, one of the doctors would miss her 
 - even if she did not happen to run into Mrs. 
 Olsen. She says the best she can do is to unlock 
 the front door, because it would only take her a 
 minute to slip out of the office and do that; but 
 I told her that was all right and that that would 
 do finely. You see, you are going to have some 
 hard work after all. 
 
 " We are arranging for as late as ten o'clock, 
 because, of course, it has to be after dark, and Doc- 
 tor Morrison comes in the evening, and we can't be 
 sure of his going away before then. 
 
 " So, Nephew John, if you love us (and I am 
 sure that you do) , like the hero of the old romances, 
 you are to be at the door as the clock strikes ten. 
 Be careful to be exact about the time, for the door 
 will be unlocked then, and every minute that it 
 remains unlocked will add to the danger of sus- 
 picion or discovery. Our little mercenary is going 
 to set her watch by the six o'clock whistle this 
 evening, and you had better do the same, so that 
 the two time-pieces may tick as one. 
 
 " The hardest thing you will have to do, once 
 you are inside, is to get past the office, which, as
 
 236 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 you know, opens on to the hall, almost directly at 
 its entrance. She is going to try to close the office 
 door, if she can, but she is not sure that she can 
 do it; for it is usually left open, and any little vari- 
 ants from custom excite suspicion in a place where 
 people have long grown into the habit of looking 
 over their shoulders. Nevertheless, even if the 
 office door is open, I am sure you will manage to 
 get past ; and once past, save for a chance encounter, 
 the rest will be pretty plain sailing. My room is 
 on the second floor, as is Nancy's, and is two doors 
 from the head of the stairs and four from hers, 
 which is, as you know, at the end of the corridor. 
 You go right down and get her first, and you both 
 can stop for me on the way back. 
 
 " If you should run into that Mrs. Olsen, you 
 had better just choke her, for she isn't worth saving. 
 Of course, you know, I don't want you to kill her; 
 only you should take precautions against her 
 screaming, and it wouldn't hurt any if you put some 
 margins on them. It won't be much loss to the 
 world if she isn't able to lie for two or three 
 days. Seriously, we must do something about this 
 place when we are all well away from here. I was 
 having a very good time, as you saw, when I came 
 in, and I thought that we were very clever, and 
 that, for once, I was having an adventure worth 
 the having, but the woman in the room next to 
 mine has been sobbing all the morning, and the
 
 A LETTER 237 
 
 fun has worn off things. I have always had my 
 doubts about an actual hell, but I shan't have any 
 more. There must be some place further on, where 
 devils who make hells on earth can come into their 
 own at last. 
 
 " Don't kill anybody, John, but don't be afraid 
 of hurting anybody that tries to stop you ; whatever 
 you do to them won't be half what they deserve. 
 " I remain, ever your affectionate 
 
 "AUNT SALLY."
 
 XXIV 
 
 THE ATTEMPT 
 
 I MADE but few preparations. First of all, I 
 looked up the telegraph office and telegraphed 
 my friend the hotel clerk to mail me the rest of 
 my money, so that I could get it the next day at 
 my present lodgings. Then I wrote a long letter 
 to Mr. Ogilby; and, last of all, I bought a little 
 pot of phosphorus from the local chemist, with 
 which I smeared the face of the cheap watch I 
 had bought to replace the one taken from me in 
 the park. It stained the white cardboard face badly ; 
 but I left it in the sun for an hour, and was pretty 
 sure it would glow sufficiently after real darkness 
 had come to show me the time. About twilight I 
 started for the sanatorium. 
 
 This time I left the road as soon as the sanatorium 
 was in sight, and, making a long circle across the 
 fields, came to my former hiding-place in such a 
 way that I was pretty sure that I was not seen. As 
 I settled myself down to wait I saw a dim face in 
 the window I took to be Mrs. Lathrop's, and could 
 scarcely forbear making some sort of signal to her; 
 for in the gathering dusk the hideous old building 
 
 238
 
 THE ATTEMPT 239 
 
 seemed more forbidding than ever, and Mrs. 
 Lathrop's courage and unselfishness came over me 
 in new realization. I would have given a good 
 deal to have told her that I was there, to have lent 
 some reassurance and relieve in a measure the anx- 
 iety, that I now realized for the first time, she could 
 not help but feel. But, of course, I dared make no 
 sign, and only crouched the closer in my ambush. 
 
 It was getting very dark indeed, and already one 
 or two windows had been lighted and the curtains 
 drawn, and I was watching for a flash in the corner 
 room that might give me a glimpse of Nancy, when 
 some slight sound or prescience made me turn my 
 head. I looked up to see the dim figure of a man, 
 a figure that had already left the road, and that was 
 making steadily and stealthily for the clump of 
 bushes behind which I lay concealed. Naturally my 
 first thought was that I had been seen, and that this 
 was one of the watchmen who came to put the mat- 
 ter beyond any further doubt by investigating my 
 hiding-place. 
 
 Still crouching, I got my feet under me, that I 
 might be ready for whatever should chance. Per- 
 haps, after all, this was not the watchman but some 
 farmer taking a familiar cut across lots, or a tramp 
 in search of a comfortable hay-mow; so that as he 
 came nearer, I moved slightly so as to keep the 
 clump of bushes between us. To my surprise the 
 man came directly to the spot where I had lain, and
 
 240 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 without further search settled himself in the hollow 
 of crushed grass that must still have been warm 
 from my body. Either he was not the watchman 
 or, if he was, he had discovered me, or some signs 
 of me, on the night before, and now was waiting 
 until I should come. I flattened myself down on 
 my side of the bushes, for I heard a twig snap un- 
 der his hand, and saw the branches stir. This man, 
 too, was watching either the road or the sanatorium. 
 It is a strange thing to lie in the dark within a 
 few feet of another human being, who does not 
 realize your presence, a being whose every thought 
 is, for all you know, to await your coming and do 
 you injury. Strange little pricking fires ran over 
 me, wave after wave, and my tense muscles twitched, 
 as I have seen the muscles of a dog as he stood tense 
 at some unknown sound ; and I found that, although 
 I was not afraid, I was fiercely angry with a sort of 
 primal apprehension, astir with a fierce lust of en- 
 counter, utterly primitive, the sheer immutable her- 
 itage of jungle-cradled man. I was holding my arm 
 over my face, partly that no light or shade might 
 show against the gathering gloom, and partly that 
 no sound of my breathing might come to the other 
 watcher's ears; for to mine each uncertain catch of 
 his breath came plainly; when I heard a little sound 
 which startled me more than could have any thun- 
 der-clap, a sound that I knew well, half muffled yet 
 sweetly clear, the well-known chiming of my own
 
 THE ATTEMPT 241 
 
 repeater watch. Without more ado I crept around 
 the bush and put my hand over the mouth of the 
 Reverend Mr. Stevens. 
 
 He did not give up without a struggle. His body 
 stiffened under my grip like an animal's, and he 
 drove one elbow back against me, while I felt the 
 sharp touch of his teeth on the hand that held his 
 mouth; so that I laughed softly with the joy of it, 
 and pulled him over on his back. 
 
 ' You had better lie still," I whispered, " and 
 show a little Christian humility. I don't want to 
 choke you unless I have to." 
 
 I saw the white of his eyes glimmer up at me 
 in the darkness ; but he gave a sudden squirm almost 
 out of my grasp, and kicked viciously at me. 
 
 " All right," I said, and gave his lean throat a 
 little pinch, so that he sobbed and lay still. I 
 gagged him with his own handkerchief, and then 
 holding both bony wrists in one hand, I searched his 
 pockets until I found my watch. 
 
 It was now quite dark so that I moved without 
 fear of being seen, remembering only to move in 
 silence. Why Stevens had come I could not guess. 
 It was enough for the moment that he was here 
 and must be reckoned with. Glad as I was to see 
 him, he must not interfere with the real work I 
 had in hand. So, for a while, I sat holding him 
 and listening to the irregular whistle of his return- 
 ing breath, casting about in my mind for some means
 
 242 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 of leaving him safely behind me. I had nothing 
 in my own pockets to tie him with except my hand- 
 kerchief, and this I used to bind his gag more firmly 
 in place. At last, with infinite satisfaction, I set 
 deliberately to work. First of all, I stripped him 
 of his coat, and when I had transferred the 
 contents of his pockets to my own, I tore out 
 the lining and twisted it into a very serv- 
 iceable rope to bind about his knees and ankles. 
 His tie, I found, although a very ugly one as I 
 remembered it, was finely suited to my needs; for 
 it was strong and long and thick, so that when I 
 had turned him on his face and brought his hands 
 together behind him, I found it exactly suited for 
 tying them together. The lining of the sleeves 
 furnished me with cord enough to draw up his feet 
 until they almost touched his hands, where I tied 
 them together, and left him trussed like some lean 
 and contorted razor-back swine. It was not, per- 
 haps, a very comfortable position in which to leave 
 the minister who had married me ; but the night was 
 warm, and to my thinking, Mr. Stevens did not 
 merit much consideration. And I reflected that it 
 would be easy enough next day to send somebody 
 word to release him. 
 
 My own repeater ticked delicately in my pocket 
 with a steady, courtly little sound, perfectly distinct 
 and rhythmical through the louder and coarser pulsa- 
 tion of its cheap plebeian substitute, and when I
 
 THE ATTEMPT 243 
 
 pressed its spring, told me merrily that it was nearly 
 nine o'clock, news which I verified by a glance at 
 the dim, phosphorescent face of the other. And I 
 sat by the human bundle I had made, at peace and 
 almost happy. For all of my tenseness had dis- 
 appeared, all that be fore-struggle feeling of inter- 
 minable time : in their place reigned the joyous and 
 confident calm of combat. I did not even care that 
 I had still more than an hour to wait, and, although 
 I had missed my glimpse of Nancy (for now her 
 light was lit and the shade drawn), yet I felt that 
 I could afford to wait, serenely certain that in a 
 little over an hour I would take her in my arms 
 again. There is something intoxicating in even the 
 smallest success, the very fact of winning seems to 
 make the ultimate and completer triumph an easy 
 and foregone conclusion. I even made some shift 
 to make my prisoner comfortable, although of 
 course I did not loose his bonds. At ten minutes 
 of ten I left him in undisputed possession of the 
 place he had chosen, and began to make my way 
 carefully toward the door of the sanatorium. The 
 watchman should just have "gone by, so my only 
 thought was to avoid observation by the man on the 
 roof, an observation which the heavy darkness made 
 practically impossible. 
 
 I felt along the ivied wall until I came to the low 
 steps which led up to the great door, and then 
 shrank back into the ivy to wait and listen. I did
 
 244 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 t 
 
 not dare, now, to press the spring of my repeater, 
 but I guardedly took the other watch from my 
 pocket and, cradling it in my hands, saw that it was 
 two minutes of ten. In a moment more I thanked 
 God in the darkness; for I heard the soft shriek 
 and click of the big lock almost at my ear. 
 
 I climbed the steps very cautiously, and for a 
 moment stood at the door listening. Then, with 
 infinite care, I softly and slowly turned the knob, 
 and pushed the door open an inch or so. I could 
 hear a murmur of voices that was almost articulate, 
 and surmised that our mercenary had been unable 
 to close the door of the office. Nevertheless, al- 
 though it was not now or never, at least it was 
 now. I pushed the door still farther open, just far 
 enough to admit my body, and, slipping in, softly 
 closed it behind me. 
 
 To my satisfaction I found the hall but dimly 
 lighted, so that the brightness from the office door 
 at my left hand made a broad, truncated V on the 
 worn boards of the hall floor, a space of light not 
 four feet away from me, through which I must pass 
 into the safer dimness on its farther side. I could 
 now hear plainly Doctor Mayhew's voice, dictating 
 what I suppose was some rascally letter or other, and 
 I drew back into the corner at the right of the 
 great door in the hope that, leaning forward, I might 
 be able to see him. As I did so his shadow passed 
 before me on the floor. Evidently he was pacing
 
 THE ATTEMPT 245 
 
 up and down as he wrote. I watched the grotesque 
 shadow pass four or five times, a shadow whose 
 striding, giant legs commenced somewhere in the 
 office, fell flatly across the floor and, bending at the 
 wall like some huge, black, paper doll, staggered in 
 vague, flat bulk almost to the ceiling. Although 
 the intervals of its passing and repassing were short 
 they were at least regular, and when I judged that 
 Doctor Mayhew was just approaching the farther 
 wall and had his back turned toward me, I crossed 
 the strip of light in two long tiptoeing strides, and, 
 veering across to the wall on my left, stole softly 
 along it, until almost at its end it was cut at right 
 angles by another hall. At this corner I stopped 
 again and listened. 
 
 My straining ears were still able to catch the dis- 
 tant murmur of Doctor Mayhew's dictation. Once, 
 as I listened, something seemed to fall in a distant 
 room. Save for these sounds, the place was in 
 silence. I turned the corner and found the newel 
 post of the stairs, a carved and dilapidated griffin, 
 whose stately and menacing dignity had been much 
 marred by the loss of an ear. I was foolish enough 
 to pat him on the head, as a school-boy might have, 
 as I started to climb the stairs. 
 
 If these stairs had been built for the purpose of 
 giving alarm they could scarcely have been better 
 contrived. The first one groaned beneath my feet, 
 and the second, to which I hastily transferred my
 
 246 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 weight, gave a shriek of protest that seemed to my 
 strained senses almost human. I tried the expedient 
 of testing each one of them with my hand, but even 
 those that I so proved silent, yelled betrayal as soon 
 as I trusted the full weight of my body to them. 
 Indeed, I think every stair of the flight was poten- 
 tially vocal, and differed from its fellows only in 
 the key and volume of its protest. A skilful and 
 acrobatic musician could, I think, have trampled a 
 dirge from them. After I had tried four or five in 
 momentary apprehension of discovery, I cast myself 
 astride the balustrade, thinking to work my way 
 up it hand over hand; but the balustrade was the 
 prima donna of the whole chorus, and bawled out 
 such a shrilling vibration of protest that I slid back 
 to the stairs again, and without more ado, and 
 taking three at a stride, mounted them on the run. 
 At the top I stopped again and listened, feeling 
 very much as a burglar might, who had undeftly 
 dislodged a stack of tin pie plates ; for I was certain 
 that by now the whole house must be alarmed, that 
 in another moment Doctor Mayhew and his janitor 
 must rush from below, and some unknown guard of 
 the floor where I now stood come at me from the 
 other side. But nothing at all happened. Some 
 one in one of the closed rooms had a fit of coughing, 
 and brought it to a loud and successful conclusion. 
 Below me the dim well of the hall lay in silent mys- 
 tery, like waters that had parted to let me through
 
 THE ATTEMPT 247 
 
 and closed again after my passage. I stole along 
 again, counting the doors as I passed. At the one I 
 knew to be Mrs. Lathrop's I stopped and listened, 
 but there was no sound. I debated for a moment 
 whether or not I should tap and whisper " all well " 
 to her, but I decided against it and went tiptoeing 
 on. I had come to the next door when there came 
 a rattle of the latch at the farther end of the hall; 
 the door I took to be Nancy's opened and into the 
 sudden brightness stepped the square figure of Mrs. 
 Olsen. 
 
 I shrank instinctively against the door at my side, 
 and, because I was sure that in spite of the dimness 
 of the hall she must have seen me, I abandoned my 
 foolish attempt at concealment and risked a very 
 doubtful strategy. It was a dubious experiment, 
 but, as far as I could see, the only one left open to 
 me. Mrs. Olsen was still too far away to take by 
 surprise, or by any sudden move of mine be pre- 
 vented from giving the alarm ; so, there being noth- 
 ing else for it, I tried to impersonate Doctor May- 
 hew, although I knew myself so much larger than he 
 that I was desperately uncertain of success. Nev- 
 ertheless, I stooped to the bolt as nonchalantly as I 
 could, and shooting it carelessly back, turned the 
 handle and stepped quietly into the room, closing the 
 door behind me. I found the room in the half-light 
 of a turned-down lamp, and from a huddle of bed 
 clothes a face turned and looked at me, the weary
 
 248 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 face of the old man I had seen from my place amidst 
 the ivy, a startled old face now, with frightened 
 eyes that looked at me piteously, as if my unex- 
 pected entrance was only some new and untimed 
 terror. I nodded and smiled at him reassuringly. 
 
 "It's all right/' I said gently; "I'm not one of 
 the doctors or anything like that. You can set your 
 mind at rest. I'm only some one who has come to 
 find out about this place. Perhaps who knows 
 perhaps I can even send you home again some 
 day." 
 
 " Home," the old fellow quavered, looking at me 
 uncomprehendingly, " home ? " 
 
 " Yes," I repeated, " perhaps I can send you 
 home." 
 
 He passed his hand over the gray stubble of lip 
 and chin, and brushed the straggle of thin hair back 
 from his forehead. 
 
 " Home," he repeated, with some dawning of 
 comprehension, and to my surprise and embarrass- 
 ment, sat bolt upright in bed and burst into tears. 
 
 I thought, through his sobbing, I could hear steps 
 passing in the hall outside. I stepped back to the 
 door and listened, and it seemed to me the footsteps 
 were dying away in the direction of the stairs; so 
 that I was on fire to open the door again, certain 
 that the coast was now clear, and wild to be with 
 Nancy. But for the life of me, I could not so 
 abruptly leave that sobbing old creature on the hud-
 
 THE ATTEMPT 249 
 
 died bed. It was insane to wait, and all my inclina- 
 tion and hope and love and fear drew me away, but 
 against my will I came back to his bed again, and put 
 my arm about his shoulders. 
 
 " Listen," I said ; " you must be very quiet, for no 
 one must find out that I have been here. Perhaps 
 you won't understand now, but you can think of it 
 when I am gone. I haven't time to tell you much, 
 but I promise you that I am going to try to help not 
 only you, but all the people here. I may be able to 
 do it to-morrow; perhaps it will be some days, or 
 even some weeks, but you must remember that ev- 
 erything is going to be all right, that the days of 
 this place have come to an end, and that you are 
 going to be free again. This is a secret between us, 
 and a secret that you must keep. You must believe 
 it, for it is true. Good night." 
 
 As I talked, the poor old fellow had stopped 
 crying, and I did not wait even to see if he under- 
 stood me, but opened the door again and, seeing that 
 the hall was empty, stepped out and shot the bolt 
 behind me, and ran on tiptoes to the door of Nancy's 
 room. 
 
 " Nancy," I called in a whisper, " Nancy ! " and 
 tapped gently on the panel. 
 
 No one answered me, and although I knew that 
 this might mean that Mrs. Olsen was still in the 
 room, there was no going back now, nor did I wish 
 for any. If there was to be a fight I should wel-
 
 250 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 come it; only now I must have Nancy behind me. 
 I undid the lock and stepped into the room, shutting 
 the door to find myself in absolute darkness. 
 
 " Nancy," I whispered again, and again I got no 
 answer. 
 
 I felt for my matches with shaking fingers, broke 
 the first, and in the brilliant flare of the next saw 
 that I was all alone. Either I had mistaken the 
 room, or Nancy had been moved. 
 
 The match burned to my fingers and went out, 
 so that I groped for the door in the darkness. As 
 my hand fell on the knob, there came a heavy rush 
 of feet along the hall, and as I stood tensely waiting 
 for the door to open, I heard the sudden rattle of the 
 bolt as it was shot into its place.
 
 XXV 
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 
 
 WITH the surprise, a wave of sheer and utter 
 disgust swept over me. I had come very 
 sure of myself, quite certain that before an hour 
 had passed I should have Nancy free again, and 
 that she and Mrs. Lathrop and I would be well on 
 our way back toward the village. I meant to do 
 all this, as I have said, by stealth; but I had quite 
 realized the possibility, or even probability, of some 
 sharp personal encounter, and in my heart of hearts 
 I had secretly looked forward to it. But suddenly 
 to find myself trapped and bolted in had not for 
 a moment entered into my reckoning. I had been 
 caught and locked up like a school-boy, and for a 
 while a sickening sense of humiliation triumphed 
 even over my anger, a sense that sapped at my 
 strength like a very fever. Even now I hate to 
 recall the moment, to bring back again to memory 
 the petulant and weakened force with which I put 
 my shoulder to the door, only to hear a little groan 
 of its double bolted oak, and the rough-voiced, un- 
 feminine giggle that answered my effort from the 
 other side. 
 
 251
 
 252 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 I tried the door again and again without success, 
 but whether it was indeed beyond my strength, still 
 languorous with disgrace, I do not know. But, at 
 any rate, although I made the oak cry aloud and 
 again, bolt and panel still held and all I got for my 
 effort was a bruised shoulder. 
 
 Nor, when I had tried the window, did I have 
 any better success with the bars. I could bend 
 them a little, to be sure, bend them with what seemed 
 to me a great effort, about as much as they had 
 moved under my hand from my insecure purchase 
 among the ivy the night before. So that it almost 
 seemed to me that the bars must have been changed, 
 that my coming had been planned for and expected ; 
 and I sickened still more at the thought. So certain 
 did this idea become to me, that I took no comfort 
 from the fact that these bars, too, were rusty, that 
 their heavy surfaces were so channeled and scarred 
 by corrosion, that my gloves, and even the palms of 
 my hands, were cut and torn. Because now I could 
 not tear them away I felt that they were other than 
 those which I had bent so easily the evening be- 
 fore, which certainty added by implication the cer- 
 tainty that I had fallen into a well-laid trap. I felt 
 that when I at last found Nancy again I could 
 scarcely look her in the eyes, but must stand with 
 bowed head before her like some birched booby. 
 
 After an eternity of this sort of thing I felt in my 
 pocket for my matches, only to find that I had lost
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 253 
 
 them. Sullenly I thought back until I remembered. 
 I had struck one match when I first found the room 
 in darkness, but, in my surprise at the barrenness 
 its flare revealed, I must have dropped the box which 
 held the others. So now I went down on my hands 
 and knees, and becoming the creeping thing I al- 
 ready felt myself, fumbled the floor in search of 
 them. At last near the door I recovered them, and 
 by the light of the first one found the fixture and lit 
 the jet. 
 
 This really was the room which had been Nancy's. 
 That my first glance in the jumping, flickering light 
 showed me. Every trace of her occupancy had 
 gone, except the great chair with its tattered cover- 
 ing, which had distinguished her room from the 
 others. But even in my groping in the dark I had 
 known it to be Nancy's room. Humanity, in spite 
 of the materialists, is a strangely spiritual thing, 
 which leaves, even in passing, a certain invisible 
 radiance, an intangible, nebulous train of personal 
 aura, faint and mystical, but still softly vibrant and 
 perceptible, at least to one other human being, whose 
 receptive senses are attuned by love. To limit man- 
 kind to five senses is as obviously superficial as are 
 most of the dogmatic dictums of science. I really 
 knew before I lit my first match that Nancy was 
 gone, and as certainly I knew now that this had once 
 been her room. 
 
 For a while I was so selfishly absorbed in the
 
 254 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 thought of my coming shame when I should find 
 her, that even my curiosity was deadened ; but with 
 the bare little room so lately hers, and now so 
 plainly before me in the jumping gas light, I began 
 to wonder, at first in a faint, subconscious sort of 
 way and then with a sudden leaping apprehension, 
 where they had taken her. I suppose that I had 
 felt, even without a full realization, that she was 
 only somewhere else in the building, that in moving 
 her from this room, they had simply put her in 
 another; and that, once I was out, I should find 
 her wherever she was. But now as my vague dis- 
 quietude took a more concrete form and sprang in 
 a moment from numb speculation to positive dread, 
 the thought of that menacing figure of the man in 
 the brown derby came before me, and I found my- 
 self standing stark afraid, cold with dread and a 
 consuming, murderous rage; for, of a sudden, I 
 had remembered the " dark room." 
 
 It was at this moment that the door swung open, 
 and the man in all the world whom I most desired 
 to see stepped in. I had not heard the bolts un- 
 done, but now I heard them slip softly into place 
 behind him. 
 
 I think he had meant to meet me with some mock- 
 ing commonplace, but he must have seen the murder 
 in my eyes, and like a wise man determined to 
 bide his time; for almost as the door shut I found 
 myself looking into the mouth of a revolver.
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 255 
 
 " Sit down," said Doctor Morrison, very quietly. 
 
 Very reluctantly I turned and took the great, 
 tattered chair which had once been Nancy's. I 
 wished with all my heart to remain on my feet; 
 for standing, I could better watch my opportunity, 
 and when it came, take advantage of it. But this 
 was probably the reason he desired me sitting, and 
 it was perfectly evident that he wished nothing 
 better than some excuse for pulling the trigger. 
 When I was once seated, however, he began to 
 laugh. 
 
 : * Your particular form of insanity," he began, 
 " interests me extremely. I assure you that we 
 have very few patients who come here of their own 
 accord. In fact, in all the time that I have been 
 connected with this institution, I do not remember 
 any one, who realized that he must stay here for 
 life, voluntarily seeking such a lengthy course of 
 treatment and confinement." 
 
 " Where have you put her? " I asked. 
 
 " Well," he said, " this is another peculiar feature 
 of the case, one of the rarest coincidences, in my 
 judgment, in all psychopathic history. You doubt- 
 less believe, and I suppose will calmly assert, that 
 you were married a short time ago, and that some 
 one has taken your wife away from you. You will 
 say your name is Ellsworth, and that you were mar- 
 ried to a Miss what's her name ? - - Bond, I 
 
 believe, is the name. That wouldn't be so funny,
 
 256 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 except for the coincidence; and that, to my mind, 
 is screamingly humorous. You may not belieA'e it, 
 but, I forget, that, of course, is exactly what you 
 do believe but we have a young lady here whose 
 name really is Bond, whose peculiar form of hal- 
 lucination is much like yours; that she was married 
 a short time ago (and this will amuse even you, 
 incredible as it may seem), to a man named Ells- 
 worth. I really must write a paper about it. Of 
 course the thing may be simply a coincidence, and 
 yet I can not believe but that I have discovered a 
 new form of hallucination, which I propose to call 
 * telepathic insanity.' ' 
 
 I watched him very carefully as he spoke. He 
 was evidently much pleased with himself, and the 
 cold, close-set eyes almost sparkled with pleasure. 
 Once or twice he even waved the revolver in a 
 sort of explanatory gesture, a gesture which I soon 
 hoped to make him repeat. I saw him at close 
 quarters, a man almost as tall as I am, whose thick, 
 sloping shoulders, long arms, and broad, muscular 
 hands promised a strength beyond the ordinary, 
 a strength, which, if he would only wave the re- 
 volver a little farther to one side, I might test 
 without too much risk of leaving Nancy without a 
 protector. 
 
 " Do you propose to keep me here indefinitely? " 
 I asked, more for the sake of saying something 
 than from any curiosity as to his answer.
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 257 
 
 Doctor Morrison smiled. " I really can not say," 
 he said, with a shrug of his shoulders; "that will 
 be a matter for the other doctors to decide at some 
 future time. Perhaps in a few years they might 
 manage to effect your cure and so release you. 
 Personally I am severing my connection with the 
 institution. I may be overstepping ethical bounda- 
 ries in making this confession to a patient, but great 
 good fortune makes fools of us all. I am going to 
 be married, Mr. Ellsworth." 
 
 " Might I inquire," I asked, " if your plans in- 
 clude bigamy ? " 
 
 " Now, Mr. Ellsworth, now, now. Pray be calm. 
 The more you try to master that hallucination 
 of yours, the nearer you are to a cure. I am going 
 to marry Miss Bond, an old patient of mine who 
 is almost cured." 
 
 The revolver waved so far this time that my 
 muscles tautened for a spring. 
 
 "Cured?" I repeated. 
 
 " Yes ; we have great hopes of our new treat- 
 ment. We have her " 
 
 " Yes," I prompted, " you have her " 
 
 " Perhaps I had better not tell you," said Doctor 
 Morrison. 
 
 " Just as you like," I said, as indifferently as I 
 could, lowering my eyes that he might not see the 
 sudden murder in them. 
 
 "Well, you'd better hear after all," said Doctor
 
 258 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 Morrison. "Just before you dropped in here, we 
 thought it best to remove her to the dark room." 
 
 " Where ? " I managed to say. 
 
 " The dark room," answered Doctor Morrison, 
 and pointed indefinitely down and to the right with 
 the hand that held the revolver, so that, as I came 
 up and struck him in the face, his first bullet went 
 behind me into the floor. But, with my spring, I 
 had misjudged distance a little, and although I had 
 hit him hard, the blow had come too low, striking 
 his chest and only glancing against his chin, so that 
 he staggered back and would have raised the re- 
 volver had I not grasped his wrist. Even then he 
 cursed me heartily, and, I think, had no doubt of his 
 ability to wrest himself free in a moment or so; 
 and indeed, at his first sudden wrench almost suc- 
 ceeded. But I managed somehow to hold on, and 
 struck at him again with my free right hand. This 
 time he lowered his head to the blow, so that instead 
 of striking him on the chin, as I had wished, my 
 clenched fist drove squarely against the top of his 
 skull; and though I struck from very short range, 
 I hit him with enough force, I think, to surprise 
 both of us, for he grunted aloud, and seemed 
 for a second to settle a little, with a queer giving 
 of all his muscles, as I have seen a steer settle 
 when struck by the slaughtering hammer. But his 
 skull was thick and he did not fall; and my 
 own injury was, perhaps, as great as his. I thought
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 259 
 
 dimly that I had broken some bone in my hand, and 
 noticed, in a detached sort of way, that my glove 
 had split from finger-crotch to wrist, so that the 
 back of my hand showed through like a livid gash. 
 Then, like a flash, he had closed with me, his left 
 arm clapped about my back and his leg locked be- 
 hind mine in the simple, old wrestling trick per- 
 fectly familiar to boys the world over. I knew it 
 too well to be much afraid of it, and only straight- 
 ened and stiffened against it, working my right arm 
 up until it was between us, until I got my hand fairly 
 under his chin, pushing his head up and backward. 
 When a man is fighting for other lives than his 
 own, he fights not by any particular code, except 
 that the instinct of tradition forbids him to use his 
 teeth; but fights, as best he may, to win, using 
 whatever means present the most potent possibilities. 
 I hoped, once I had pushed his head backward far 
 enou^ 1 ?, to strike him across the throat with the 
 edge of my hand, a short, chopping stroke, that was 
 the only thing I recalled of forgotten lessons in jiu 
 jitsu; but Morrison suddenly let go and the very 
 pressure of my hand upon his chin sent him back- 
 ward and away from me out of immediate striking 
 distance, so that the arms which struggled for the 
 revolver were stretched like a rope between us. 
 But now there was no longer any question of his 
 being able to wrench himself away, for with the 
 seconds of fighting my strength was coming back to
 
 260 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 me again, and the power which I had never used 
 but once before began to glow through me like old 
 brandy. 
 
 I do not mean that I was certain of him, but 
 only certain that he could not wrench his hand 
 away. For the great, sloping shoulders had not be- 
 lied the man. He was stronger than any one I had 
 ever met, and now, as for the moment we looked in 
 each other's eyes, as he saw in mine I know not 
 what joy of battle or leaping lust of longed-for 
 vengeance, and as I saw his face grow stern and 
 set with realization, grow white and tight-lipped as 
 the face of a man who finds himself, in a moment, 
 breast to breast with death, I knew that I must 
 fight warily and well. I tightened still more the 
 hand that grasped his wrist, and still looking at 
 him, bent it slowly over, hoping by the agony of the 
 twist to loosen the fingers that clenched the revolver 
 butt. I saw the pain in his face ; and then the most 
 dreadful and fearful thing a man can see, utter and 
 absolute fear, the mad terror that is more dangerous 
 than sheer courage, the maniac strength of the basic 
 and ultimate coward. 
 
 I threw my arm before my face instinctively as 
 he leaped at me, jerking and holding him away as 
 best I could with the other, so that his teeth snapped 
 like a dog's but a few inches from my face. Though 
 for a full minute I held him struggling in the middle 
 of the floor, tearing at me with his free hand,
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 261 
 
 striking with his lowered head, kicking, scratching 
 and biting, a great and horrible thing, a man fallen 
 suddenly brute with all a brute's vicious, unreason- 
 ing strength, yet, by what grace I do not know, I 
 escaped unhurt ; and as his strength began to lessen, 
 I pushed him back and back, until I had him fair 
 against the wall of the room, with the open bars 
 behind him, where I rested for a moment, panting. 
 Then I pushed his hand backward and up until the 
 steel of his weapon rattled and grated against the 
 blind bars of the window, the revolver fell at last 
 from his fingers, striking the sill as it fell and drop- 
 ping out into the darkness. 
 
 I flung aside his hand, then, and stepped back a 
 pace or so, for I was still foolish enough to want 
 to fight him fairly. But when he had a little re- 
 covered himself, I saw his eyes flicker to the door 
 which had been bolted behind him until they reached 
 the electric push-button, which he had evidently 
 meant to ring when he wished the door again un- 
 bolted; and, though it had been only a glance, I 
 knew as well as if he had shouted it aloud that he 
 had had enough of fighting, and that his only thought 
 was to get to that bell. Nevertheless, I stood where 
 I was and watched quietly, getting my breath again 
 and gathering myself together to meet any move 
 that he might make. But when that move came, it 
 was not directly toward the door, as I had ex- 
 pected, but suddenly and obliquely toward the little
 
 262 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 iron wash-stand in the corner. His hand was fairly 
 on the tin pitcher before I reached him and struck 
 him with all my strength. 
 
 He threw up one arm in some kind of guard, 
 while his other hand, now grasping the handle of 
 the pitcher, jerked it toward me, splashing a little 
 cascade of water on to the bare boards of the floor. 
 But though the blow spent some of its force upon 
 his arm, yet it staggered him and carried him back, 
 so that, as I followed it with my other hand, I 
 caught him this time unguarded, full and fair on 
 the point of the chin, shaking his head upon his 
 shoulders. His arms jerked up convulsively and 
 fell ; and he crashed back into the wall behind him ; 
 tottered, crumpled and fell sprawling to the floor on 
 his face. The heavy tin pitcher clattered by his side 
 and drenched him with water, but he did not move ; 
 and I turned him over on his back. 
 
 I examined him rapidly, and breathed a sigh of 
 relief to find his heart still beating. I had struck 
 him coldly enough, and as I struck had not thought 
 or cared whether or not the blow would kill him; 
 but now, as I bent over him, I found myself glad 
 that, in spite of his cruelty and his wickedness, I had 
 not killed the man. But I was almost equally glad 
 that I had put him, for a while, beyond doing mis- 
 chief. 
 
 I straightened up and looked about the room. 
 Spilled water was running across the dusty floor in
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 263 
 
 little, mercury-like rivulets, that rushed roundly 
 and erratically forward for a few, narrow-tongued 
 inches, stopped apparently causelessly, and as cause- 
 lessly shot on a little way again. The air was so 
 full of dust that it set me coughing. But, save for 
 the dust and the spilled water and the great, inert 
 figure on the floor, the room was just as it had been, 
 the door was still bolted on the outside, and I was 
 still a prisoner. 
 
 There was, however, another difference. I was 
 still fast bolted in, but now I knew that the bolts 
 could not hold me, that I was as strong now as I 
 had been weak before, and that four-inch bits of 
 steel and thumb-thick panels of oak could no longer 
 block my way to Nancy. 
 
 I wondered that the revolver shot and the uproar 
 of our struggle had not brought some one already, 
 and, indeed, as I had fought, I had momentarily 
 expected to hear the click of bolts and the opening 
 of the door behind me. So now, before I put my 
 shoulder to it, I paused and listened, my ear close 
 to the open panel. Some one was undoubtedly in 
 the hall outside, two, or perhaps three, people ; for I 
 was sure that I distinguished Mrs. Olsen's voice, 
 and thought that it was Doctor Mayhew who an- 
 swered her. 
 
 " We had better go in," I heard him say. 
 
 " But," protested Mrs. Olsen, if it were she, " he 
 said that he was not to be disturbed."
 
 264 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " You say " Doctor Mayhew's voice faltered, 
 "that you heard a a shot? That that would 
 be going pretty far, Mrs. Olsen. Even we can't 
 have that sort of thing." 
 
 " It's probably in self-defense." 
 
 "But," Doctor Mayhew said plaintively, "you 
 can't shoot patients in an asylum even in self-de- 
 fense. He ought to have taken Mat in with him. 
 Mrs. Olsen, I don't like it. I'm going in, whether 
 or no." 
 
 " And be a witness ? " she asked dryly. 
 
 I did not wait for any more. They certainly 
 were not going to wait much longer, and there might 
 be three or four in the party, a risk which I did not 
 want to run. So I faced about to the window 
 again, thinking, once I had torn the bars away and 
 dropped down outside, to come in again at some 
 lower window. But to my joy I saw something 
 that until now had in some way entirely escaped 
 my observation. A smaller door, much like the one 
 I had left, led into an adjoining room. 
 
 Time was precious now, I felt, and I put my 
 shoulder to it and heaved with all my might, so 
 that the oak panel cracked and split, and I could 
 hear the lock groan. With another heave it flew 
 open before me ; and I stumbled into a room, lighted 
 like my own, turned around and shut the door, and 
 saw lying before it and almost at my feet a little, 
 huddled-up man who had evidently been listening to
 
 THE ENCOUNTER 265 
 
 the strange sounds on the other side. I paid no at- 
 tention to him, but strode across the room and 
 dragged back his iron bed to prop against the door, 
 as some makeshift for its broken lock. I put him 
 aside as gently as I could to do this, and he turned 
 a frightened face toward me, hiding a wobbling, 
 rabbit-like chin with trembling fingers. I straight- 
 ened up in amazement, for I was looking into the 
 shifting eyes of Ephraim Bond.
 
 XXVI 
 
 THE DARK ROOM 
 
 HIS surprise was, I think, quite as great as my 
 own. He looked at me for a moment, soft 
 jaw fallen, round mouth agape; and as he looked 
 his shifty eyes began to snap with a sort of petulant 
 fury, and he rose to his feet with a little stamp that 
 reminded me all the more of a rabbit. 
 
 " You? " he said, " you? " and he pointed at me 
 a hand which shook with the raging tempest of his 
 sudden anger. " You ? " he repeated again at last, 
 as if the word was an execration and the top limit 
 of his vocabulary. 
 
 " Yes," I answered, a little flippantly, for I felt 
 giddy and drunk with fighting, " it is I, Mr. Bond. 
 May I ask what you are doing here? Or rather, I 
 don't care to ask, or waste time in listening to your 
 answer. I can guess well enough why you are here. 
 I will trouble you to open that door now; for I 
 have some work to do, and perhaps you had better 
 come along and explain things to Doctor Mayhew." 
 
 He cowered and winced as my hand fell on his 
 arm, but, with a rising anger, fairly mowed at me. 
 
 "Open the door?" he shrieked; "how should I 
 266
 
 THE DARK ROOM 267 
 
 open the door? I promise you, Mason Ellsworth, 
 I'll have the law on you for this. Oh, you're 
 clever, very clever, indeed. Don't make a mock of 
 me too soon. You'll find yourself in prison one of 
 these days, sir." 
 
 " May I ask what on earth you are talking 
 about? " I said. 
 
 Ephraim Bond's fluttering rage seemed gone in 
 a moment. He looked again, all in a flash, the soft- 
 mannered, trembling-chinned old man I had first met 
 in the Lexington Avenue stable. Tears of self-pity 
 began to well into his eyes and flow weakly down 
 his cheeks, till he snuffled and rubbed his soft nose. 
 
 " What wrong have I done you, Mr. Ellsworth? " 
 he asked, with a little sobbing catch in his voice. 
 " Aren't you satisfied ? What has she told you ? " 
 
 " She told me enough to make me want to throttle 
 you," I answered, " but that can wait." 
 
 " If more money is all you want," he interrupted, 
 " you can have that, and plenty. I mean to be fair 
 to everybody." 
 
 "Come," I said; "enough of this. Hurry, and 
 let me out, and show me where you have put her." 
 
 " Where " A very real amazement made the 
 wobbling chin drop again. " Do you really mean 
 to say, Mr. Ellsworth, that you did not do it ? " 
 
 " Do what ? " I answered angrily. " If you 
 mean, did I break your agent's jaw in the next room 
 there, I hope I did. Come now ; the door."
 
 268 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 Mr. Bond spread out his hands in a wide gesture. 
 " Can't you see, young man," he asked, " that I am 
 a prisoner here myself? " 
 
 " You ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 The anger was coming back into his face again. 
 " Yes," he said, " a prisoner, a prisoner ! Trapped 
 here and illegally detained. I have thought, sir, 
 that this was some revenge of yours; but if you did 
 not do it and I see that you did not my wrong 
 is greater than I had supposed. I thought I heard 
 his voice, but I could not believe it. Oh, this is 
 terrible, terrible! Mr. Ellsworth, you must leave 
 me. I must have time to think, to think." 
 
 " Leave you ! " I said ; " I am as trapped as you 
 are. Hush! they are opening the door in the next 
 room." 
 
 The door had certainly been opened. I heard a 
 little shriek from Mrs. Olsen, and a rapped-out oath 
 from Doctor Mayhew. Decidedly it was time to be 
 about my business. 
 
 " Mr. Bond, I think we can help each other," I 
 whispered. 
 
 But Mr. Bond had sunk down on the bed which 
 stood pushed against the door, and sat with his 
 face buried in his hands, whimpering and shaking 
 like some foolish little animal. 
 
 I shook him by the shoulder. 
 
 " Come," I said, " you can have your cry later. 
 Just now, we've got to get out."
 
 THE DARK ROOM 269 
 
 " To have done this ! " said Mr. Bond. 
 
 "If you're talking about that fellow in the brown 
 derby," I said, " we're almost square with him now. 
 Come, Mr. Bond, they will be in here in a minute, 
 and I want you to help me." I stood him on his 
 feet and pulled his hands from his stricken face. 
 " Listen," I said. " I am going to shake the door 
 into the hall, and when I stop, I want you to com- 
 mence. Make as much noise as you can. Kick it, 
 if you have to. You understand ? " 
 
 He looked at me blankly, and I repeated my in- 
 structions all over again, prefacing them with a 
 threat of immediate violence to stir him into com- 
 prehension. This time he nodded. 
 
 A hand cautiously pushed at the broken door be- 
 hind me. 
 
 " Quick," I said. " Push against the bed as hard 
 as you can, and then come over to the other door as 
 soon as I am through." 
 
 I really had no time to think much about Mr. 
 Bond, to care what his distress was or how he got 
 there. My whole thought was now to get out of 
 that room, to get, if possible, into the hall, where 
 I was sure that I could burst through any opposi- 
 tion. So, now, I threw myself with all my weight 
 against the door leading to it, giving a great shout 
 as I did so, and making the panels crack and cry 
 aloud. I made two of these charges, shouting all 
 the time at the top of my lungs, and I am not sure
 
 2/o THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 but with a few more essays I could have broken even 
 that great door down ; but I thought my present plan 
 a better one. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Bond," I said, and dragged him from 
 his position by the bed over to the door. " Make as 
 much noise as you can." And over my shoulder, 
 as I dragged the bed away from the other door, I 
 could see that, whether he understood or not, at least 
 he was doing his mechanical best. I pushed the 
 iron bed away with a great heave, and pulled open 
 the door. As I had expected, I found the room 
 before me empty, save for the still senseless form 
 of my late adversary ; and the door into the hall was 
 open. I slipped across the room to it on tiptoes, 
 and peered out into the hall. Mrs. Olsen, Doctor 
 May hew, and the man I took to be the janitor, were 
 gathered outside the door of the room I had just 
 quitted. 
 
 " Bolts are half buckled already," I heard Doctor 
 Mayhew say. " He'll be through in another min- 
 ute. Stand ready with your slug-shot, Mat. He's 
 too strong to stand any nonsense with. Get back 
 a step or two, Mrs. Olsen; when the door breaks 
 open, he'll tumble out with a rush." 
 
 It seemed to me that Mr. Bond's kicks were grow- 
 ing rather feeble, that in another .moment they must 
 detect the substitution, so that I gathered myself 
 together and came down the little space of hall with
 
 THE DARK ROOM 271 
 
 a rush, pushing Mrs. Olsen roughly aside as I passed 
 her, and giving the man with the slug-shot a blow 
 that sent him against Doctor Mayhew. I had no 
 time now to stop for Mrs. Lathrop. She was in no 
 immediate danger and I could come back for her, 
 but Nancy was in the " dark room," a place, it 
 seemed to me, probably located in the cellar ; so I ran 
 the rest of the way down the hall, plunged down the 
 stairs, and set about looking for a stairway that 
 would lead me into the basement. Above me I 
 could hear Mrs. Olsen calling loudly for help. I 
 thought of the guards on the outside of the building, 
 and running to the front door, made sure that it was 
 locked, and dropped the great key into my pocket. 
 The office door was closed now, but I threw it open 
 and stepped in. A dark-haired young woman 
 whom I took to be our little mercenary cowered be- 
 fore me into a corner. 
 
 " Quick," I said ; " show me where the ' dark 
 room ' is." 
 
 " Oh," she moaned, " oh, oh ! What have you 
 done, what have you done? I did not know it was 
 going to be like this. They will kill me for it, if 
 they find out. Go away, oh, do go away." 
 
 " Nonsense," I said ; " no one is going to hurt 
 you. Show me where that dark room is." 
 
 " I dare not," she said piteously. " They will 
 kill me, I tell you."
 
 2 7 2 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " They'll do nothing of the kind, if you'll hurry. 
 I'll see that you get out all right. Can the guard 
 outside get in any way but by the front door? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, " there is a door in the back. 
 The cook would let them in." 
 
 " Well, show me that first." 
 
 She shrank still farther into her corner, laughing 
 and sobbing half hysterically; then, with a little 
 scream, she pointed to the window. I looked up 
 to see the bearded face of the guard peering through 
 the grating, looking at us both in fierce amazement. 
 I picked the girl up in my arms and carried her, 
 faintly struggling, to the hall. 
 
 " Now," I said, " if you're going to save your 
 precious neck, you'd better help and help all you can. 
 First show me that other door and then the dark 
 room." 
 
 To my surprise she had stopped crying and, as 
 we passed under the dim hall light, she glanced up 
 at me with a sidelong flash of her black eyes. 
 
 ''You're awfully strong," she said as I set her 
 down, as if she had made an important discovery, 
 and, slipping her hand into mine, she ran with me 
 along the hall, passing through the one which bi- 
 sected it at right angles and on toward the rear of 
 the building, where she stopped before another door 
 with her hand at her heart. 
 
 "Well," I said, "what is it?" 
 
 The hand which I held in my own tightened.
 
 THE DARK ROOM 273 
 
 "The cook," she said; "what can you do with 
 him?" 
 
 On the floor above Mrs. Olsen was still scream- 
 ing, gathering vocal power, it seemed to me, with 
 every passing second. I fumbled at the knob be- 
 fore me and, throwing the door open at last, stepped 
 into the shadowed dimness of the great kitchen, 
 pulling the maid in after me. 
 
 " He sleeps on a cot in the corner," she whispered ; 
 " shall I turn up the gas for you ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said, and, dropping her hand, I closed 
 the door after us, shutting out the growing pande- 
 monium above. 
 
 In the sudden silence I heard the peaceful sound 
 of a throaty snoring; then the dim gas-jet leaped into 
 full power and the snoring stopped with a rumbling 
 snort. Under its brilliance stood our little merce- 
 nary, her olive cheeks, still wet with tears, now 
 flushing like a pomegranate, her primly dressed hair 
 in some disarray, her black eyes snapping with ex- 
 citement. She held her clasped hands high, leaning 
 her cheek against them, like a school-girl at the 
 crisis of her first play, a vivid bit of color in the 
 great raftered room. Her eyes flashed to mine with 
 the same look I had seen in the hall, a smile stirred 
 at her lips, and she slowly turned her head and 
 nodded toward the corner. 
 
 There, on a low cot, a big, blue-black negro was 
 sitting up, a barbaric figure in ebony, swathed in the
 
 274 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 voluminous folds of a red flannel nightgown, a gar- 
 ment redder and more vivid even than the great 
 cavern of his slowly gaping mouth, where a row of 
 incredible teeth gleamed and glistened. He rubbed 
 his eyes sleepily and stared at me, and rolled them 
 solemnly around to the girl under the gas-jet. 
 
 " Yassah," he said, " yassah. I'se awake, sah." 
 He was evidently too sleepy to have quite taken us in. 
 
 " Lock the back door, please," I said to the girl, 
 " and bring me the key." While she ran to do it, 
 I turned to pull down the shades. There were no 
 shades, I found, but better yet, there were heavy in- 
 side shutters, which unfolded across the windows, 
 and which I had but to drop a bar in place to secure. 
 As I shut the last one I saw the dim figure of 
 the guard in the darkness outside ; and in a moment 
 more he tried the door which we had locked. Now, 
 with the shutters closed, the place was like a 
 fortress. 
 
 "Who ah yo'? One o' they loonytics?" 
 
 The big black was fully awake now, and stood 
 like an impossible pillar of fire, based and capped 
 with coal, beside the cot that, by some miracle, had 
 held him. He was not only tall but monstrously 
 fat, so that the voluminous red flannel nightgown 
 was quite tight at his stomach. The girl beside me 
 giggled nervously. 
 
 " No, I'm not a lunatic," I said. " Go back and 
 go to sleep."
 
 THE DARK ROOM 275 
 
 The negro rolled his eyes over me with growing 
 suspicion and menace. 
 
 " Listen," he said ; " who dat ? Who dat a yellin' 
 and a yappin' and a proclaimin'? Sound to Abra- 
 ham like ole Mis' Olsen. What you-all want in 
 Abraham's kitchen? Guess ah better go see what's 
 the mattah." 
 
 " No, you hadn't," I answered. 
 
 " Who-all's goin' to stop me ? " he rumbled, 
 scowling at me with a wrinkled frown, where sav- 
 age menace and a sort of minstrel impudence shared 
 alike. " Who-all's goin' to stop Abraham ? That's 
 what ah want to know." 
 
 I took a step toward him, doubling my fists as I 
 came. 
 
 " Get back in that bed ! " I said. 
 
 To my surprise he gave a howl of terror that 
 was half a shriek, and flopped down on his knees, 
 fairly groveling before me. 
 
 " Oh, Lawd Gawd," he cried ; " oh, Lawd Gawd ! 
 Save pore ole Abraham." Then rolling his eyes up 
 to me again. " Please go wuffum yere, Mr. Devil. 
 Don't put yo' red-hot hand on Abraham." 
 
 I glanced at my doubled fist. Somewhere in the 
 last few minutes, probably when I had dragged the 
 cot away from the door up-stairs, my torn, split 
 glove had been pulled away from my hand, leaving 
 it the bare thing which even I did not like to see. 
 
 Instinctively I slipped my hand into the side
 
 2 ;6 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 pocket of my coat. "Come," I said to the girl, 
 somewhat gruffly, "you're to show me where the 
 dark room is." 
 
 She smiled back at me. "Yes," she said, "I 
 know I am." 
 
 Evidently what she had seen had not frightened 
 her, and I liked her for it. 
 
 "How about him?" she asked, pointing to the 
 still groveling negro. Then standing on tiptoe and 
 pulling me down until she could whisper close in 
 my ear, " Do you dare to leave him here ? Won't 
 he undo the shutters ? " 
 
 I stirred the red nightgown with my foot. 
 
 " Get up," I said, " and walk ahead of me." 
 
 At the touch, he sprang to his feet and stood 
 trembling. 
 
 " Where's you-all goin', Mistah Devil," he 
 gasped ; " not to that hot place, is yo' ? S'cuse me, 
 but ah yo' suah yo' ain' made no mistake ? One ole 
 niggah ain' nothin' to yo', an' deed it's mighty 
 seeyus foh me." 
 
 Sweat was streaming down his face, which had 
 turned slate-color. 
 
 "I'll think about it," I said; "get a lamp and 
 come on, or perhaps a candle would do just as well." 
 For his fright was so great I did not dare to trust 
 him with a lamp. 
 
 So we went out to the hall again in single file, 
 the girl walking first and looking back at us every
 
 " In there,'' she whispered
 
 THE DARK ROOM 277 
 
 few steps over her shoulder. The cook followed 
 with his waving candle, and I walked behind. We 
 walked a little way along the hall, turned into a 
 dark archway, and went down a steep and narrow 
 flight of stairs. 
 
 The basement was as intricate as the house above 
 it. The dust of years lay there thick on the con- 
 crete floor and piles of miscellaneous lumber. Our 
 path turned from right to left, from left to right 
 again, winding through lanes of barrels and boxes, 
 past latticed storerooms and boarded bins, circled an 
 antiquated furnace, and came at last to a great 
 square of mason work, beneath w.hat I judged was 
 the very center of the house. The stone walls ran 
 up solidly to the raftered ceiling, and must have 
 enclosed a place about eighteen feet square, divided 
 in the middle, as I soon found out, by another parti- 
 tion of stone, each division having a heavy door of 
 studded iron plates. Both doors were locked and 
 made fast by large, old-fashioned padlocks, and I 
 judged that these dark cells had been originally the 
 wine cellars of that bygone builder of the unlovely 
 castle. To my relief I found a key hanging between 
 the doors. 
 
 With a hand which shook a little in spite of me, 
 I undid both locks and dropped them to the floor, 
 swinging the heavy doors wide open. 
 
 " Nancy," I whispered ; then louder, " Nancy ! " 
 
 But with only the hollow echo of my own voice
 
 2 ;8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 to answer me, my heart seemed to stop beating; for 
 I thought that surely Nancy must have fainted in 
 that horrible darkness. I took the candle from the 
 trembling hand of the negro and entered the cell on 
 my left hand. An old mattress lay in the corner 
 with a moldering half-loaf of bread beside it. The 
 place was as empty and desolate as a tomb. In the 
 doorway loomed the cook, following me with rolling 
 eyes which glimmered white in the candle-light. I 
 had to push him aside to pass him as I went out. 
 The other cell was absolutely empty. There was 
 not even a mattress there. I held the candle high 
 over my head to peer into its darkest corner. 
 
 " Look out," the girl called, in a queer, half- 
 muffled little voice. 
 
 And I turned about to find her struggling val- 
 iantly with the big black in the very doorway, one 
 crushing arm about her neck and her face almost 
 buried in the folds of the voluminous nightgown. 
 His other hand dragged the door toward them. I 
 reached them with a bound and tore the negro's 
 arm away, and as I did so, some of the hot wax 
 from the candle must have spattered on his hand, 
 for he shrieked aloud. By some dark mental proc- 
 ess he had come, I believe, to doubt in the last few 
 moments my supernatural powers, and with the op- 
 portunity before him had decided to take this chance 
 of getting rid of me. But that splash of hot grease
 
 THE DARK ROOM 279 
 
 took all the fight out of him, and again he groveled 
 at my feet. 
 
 " It buhns, it buhns," he groaned; " all dem little 
 fiahs of hell is lickin' round me." 
 
 I kicked him this time in good earnest. The girl 
 had gently taken the candle away from me, holding 
 it high that I might see better and leaving my hands 
 free. Now she pointed into the cavern of darkness 
 before us. 
 
 " In there," she whispered. 
 
 I heard a trampling on the floor above. Without 
 more ado, I pushed the negro into the dark room 
 which held the mattress, slammed shut the iron door, 
 and snapped the padlock into place.
 
 XXVII 
 
 ESCAPE 
 
 OW," I said, "if I let you out, can you 
 manage to slip past that guard and get 
 home by yourself?" 
 
 "No," she said, "I don't believe I could. I 
 think it is too late for that sort of thing, anyhow. 
 You see the cook has seen me with you and he is 
 sure to tell, so I might as well reconcile myself right 
 now to losing my position." 
 
 " You could say I forced you to help me," I said. 
 
 She had turned and was already moving away, 
 and I followed her slowly, gathering myself together 
 for the work before me, and mechanically picking 
 my way through the cellar, almost forgetting the 
 existence of my guide. But at the foot of the 
 steep basement stairs she paused, holding the candle 
 so that her face was in the shadow. 
 
 " You see, the truth is," she said abruptly, " that 
 I that I don't want to go home." 
 
 * Don't want to go home ? ' " I repeated. 
 
 " No," she said, " I want to stay here and watch 
 what happens. I won't be in your way." 
 
 280
 
 ESCAPE 281 
 
 And, as if the matter were settled, she tripped on 
 ahead of me up the stairs. 
 
 At the top I paused and listened. Mrs. Olsen's 
 screams had stopped; and, in its deathly silence, the 
 house seemed to have an even more potent malignity. 
 I knew, certainly, that at least three people were 
 listening for me, three people whose livelihood I was 
 threatening, whose very personal liberty was im- 
 periled the moment I was outside of the place, and, 
 from sheer necessity, they were bound to do me 
 harm. Any corner I turned was pregnant with evil 
 possibility. My fear was, of course, that I should 
 be struck from behind, or shot from some hiding- 
 place where my adversaries could lurk unseen. So 
 that, once in the hall, I paused and listened with all 
 my ears; for now I was frankly afraid, afraid of 
 an attack which I could not guard against, and 
 which might leave Nancy alone and unprotected, at 
 the mercy of a danger I knew only too well. With 
 all my heart I wished I had come to the place with 
 three or four policemen at my heels, armed and 
 clothed with the majesty of the law. But although 
 this was the normal and rational thing to have done, 
 I had put it aside after a little consideration; for I 
 was pretty sure that such a place as this must have 
 an understanding with the town authorities, and 
 that, even if I persuaded them to give me any as- 
 sistance, I must state pretty clearly my errand, and 
 so, having given warning, would have found Nancy
 
 282 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 gone and everything apparently quite regular. And 
 Nancy's extremity was too great to risk awaiting the 
 unavoidable delays of any possible interference by 
 the state. 
 
 "What are you going to do now?" whispered 
 the little mercenary. 
 
 " I suppose the only thing I can do," I whispered 
 back, "is to make a room to room search of the 
 place." 
 
 " And get shot at the first corner? " she asked, as 
 if she read my uneasiness. 
 
 " I'll have to chance that," I replied ; " this isn't 
 getting us anywhere, although it is an immense re- 
 lief to know he lied about the dark room." 
 
 She looked up at me very seriously, then smiled, 
 snuffed out the candle, and put it carefully into a 
 corner. It seemed, at first, as if we were in the 
 dark. Then, as my eyes grew accustomed to the 
 change, I saw that some faint glimmer from far 
 down the hall made the walls about us dimly visible. 
 I glanced about for the girl beside me, and to my 
 surprise saw her already tiptoeing ahead. I stole 
 after her swiftly and caught her by the arm. 
 
 " What are you doing? " I asked angrily. " If I 
 let you stay, you must come behind. Don't you 
 realize they might kill you ? " 
 
 " I don't think so," she whispered ; " and, you 
 see, it is the only way. It isn't me they want, it's 
 you, and if I go ahead, at least they can't surprise
 
 ESCAPE 283 
 
 you. Please, please let me," she went on, with a 
 little catch at her breath, as I still held out. " I 
 have never done anything for anybody before. I 
 have never been of any real use. I'm not going to 
 run much risk now ; and it is worth it for for the 
 young lady, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said, simply, " it is worth it," and I let 
 her go again. 
 
 She gave a little sigh that was half a laugh, and 
 stole forward along the hall, pausing every once 
 in a while to listen. At the transverse hall she did 
 not turn to the stairs as I had expected; but, when 
 she had made sure it was empty, she crossed it and 
 kept on straight for the front door and the office. 
 I hesitated for a second, and then tiptoed after her ; 
 for, after all, she was right. From the basement we 
 had certainly heard steps on this floor, and it was 
 better now to find if it was really empty before we 
 started to the second story; for if we left any one 
 behind us they might in some way get out of the 
 building and get additional reinforcement, or, even 
 should this prove impossible, it was an added danger 
 to have any one at our backs. At the office door 
 she stopped again, one hand held up to keep me 
 where I was, but I tiptoed on till I stood beside her. 
 The light was still burning in the office, and through 
 the open door was wafted the unmistakable smell 
 of a very good cigar. I pushed the girl back and 
 stepped into the office.
 
 284 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Well/' said Doctor Mayhew, " I have been ex- 
 pecting you for some minutes." 
 
 He was tilting back in a chair behind the desk, 
 and with the words, he blew out a tremendous cloud 
 of smoke, with an elaborate air of unconcern. I 
 had come into the room half crouched for a spring, 
 tensely ready to leap or strike at any least sign of 
 awaiting hostility, so that this cool greeting came 
 to me with all the unsettling force of the unexpected. 
 
 " Well, now that I have found you," I said, " I 
 think that you can be of some use to me." 
 
 Doctor Mayhew raised his eyebrows. " How ? " 
 he asked, and for the first time I noticed that, in 
 spite of his easy manner, much of his high color was 
 gone, and that the hand which held the cigar trem- 
 bled a little. 
 
 " I came here," I said, " as you probably know 
 well enough, for one of your so-called ' patients.' ' 
 
 " It seems to me you've gone about it in a strange 
 way," he said. " If you had addressed yourself to 
 me in the first place, I am quite sure there would 
 have been no trouble. If you are dissatisfied with 
 the treatment your aunt is receiving here, even now 
 you are at perfect liberty to take her away." 
 
 " Come," I said angrily ; " you are wasting time. 
 Are you going to show me where you have put Miss 
 Bond, or am I to be under the necessity of hurting 
 you?" 
 
 'Miss Bond," he answered, in pained surprise;
 
 ESCAPE 285 
 
 " I was under the impression that you called your 
 aunt Mrs. Lathrop. Just what right have you to 
 interfere with Miss Bond?" 
 
 I took an angry step toward him. " I am that 
 ' delusion ' of hers, if you like," I said. " I know 
 she has talked the matter over with you, for I 
 heard her." 
 
 " You heard her ? " said Doctor Mayhew, in what 
 seemed to me a very genuine surprise. 
 
 ' Yes, from the ivy outside her window," I an- 
 swered impatiently. I am her husband, Doctor 
 Mayhew, and I have come for her." 
 
 Doctor Mayhew whistled. " So that's true, then," 
 he said ; " then you are er Mason Ellsworth." 
 
 I nodded. Doctor Mayhew frowned. 
 
 " I hope you will believe," he said, " that this is 
 a genuine surprise to me. Miss Bond was brought 
 here by a medical man, a man whom I have every 
 reason to believe is honest. She is, in fact, out of 
 my jurisdiction. I'm sorry, Mr. Ellsworth, but, at 
 the moment, I don't see what I can do to help you. 
 Even if you had come to me in a proper manner, 
 I should be at a loss to know what to do. It is 
 very unfortunate that you did not tell me what you 
 wanted in the first place, for then I might have been 
 able to do something. As it is I have sent for the 
 police." 
 
 "The police? "I asked. 
 
 " Certainly. You can hardly deny that you have
 
 286 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 been guilty of breaking in and assault. But I'll tell 
 you what I'll do." 
 
 He got up from his chair and came around to my 
 side of the desk. " I see that there has been some 
 sort misunderstanding. I'll let you get away, if 
 you want, and agree not to press the matter any 
 further." 
 
 " Get away," I laughed ; " why you can't even get 
 out of the place yourself. If you won't help me 
 willingly, I am going to take you along as best I 
 can." 
 
 The doctor lowered his voice ; his plump face took 
 on an expression of unspeakable guile. 
 
 " Don't be too hasty," he said. " Why not settle 
 this matter peacefully, Mr. Ellsworth? We're both 
 of us sensible men and should be able to come to an 
 understanding. If you will sit down there and 
 write me a full release and your check say for 
 well, for five thousand dollars, I will manage some- 
 how to send the young lady to you to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 He had taken up again his habit of pacing the 
 floor. 
 
 " Doctor Mayhew," I said, " I wouldn't trust you 
 with a blind man's pennies, since we are speaking as 
 one man to another." 
 
 "Oh, very well," Doctor Mayhew answered. 
 "Mat!" 
 
 From somewhere behind the great oblong desk
 
 ESCAPE 287 
 
 arose the man I had seen on the floor above. His 
 slug-shot had been laid aside for a revolver. 
 
 In his pacing the doctor had got between me 
 and the door, and now threw his arms about me 
 from behind. 
 
 " Come over and get him, Mat," he said. 
 
 I stood passively, knowing that I should not be 
 shot at with the doctor behind me, for a bullet of 
 any caliber would pierce us both; so that I let my 
 arms drop at my side, as if the odds were at last too 
 great for me; and as Mat came within reach I 
 wrenched myself away from the doctor's foolish 
 hold, and struck the man with the revolver reeling 
 back against the desk. He dropped the weapon as 
 he fell, and I stamped on Doctor Mayhew's fingers 
 as he reached for it, so that he yelled with pain like 
 a little boy. Then I stepped back to the doorway 
 and, with the little mercenary at my heels, raced 
 for the stairs. 
 
 There was a muffled sound of hubbub in the upper 
 hall, a trampling of feet, a stifled scream, and then, 
 to my astonishment, a trill of pealing laughter ; then 
 again the scuffle and the trampling. I had just de- 
 cided that this came from Mrs. Lathrop's room, 
 when the door opened, and down the dim hall, her 
 hand still hesitant upon the latch, poised as lightly 
 and as straight and fair as some young goddess, 
 Nancy stood looking about her. 
 
 In a moment, and almost before I could move,
 
 288 -THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 she had seen me and ran joyfully forward, straight 
 into my arms; her own she flung about my neck, 
 and I caught her to me and kissed her in a blinding 
 wave of happiness. For a little neither of us spoke, 
 only she clung very closely to me; while a meas- 
 ureless relief and joy surged dizzily at my heart and 
 brain. 
 
 Nancy gave a little sigh and stirred gently in my 
 arms. " You must let me go, Mason," she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " No, right away," as I held her closer. " Listen, 
 Mason, do listen. We must hurry, hurry, you 
 understand. Mrs. Olsen is in there with Mrs. La- 
 throp. Come, you must help her right away." She 
 tugged in imploring impatience at my hand. 
 
 " Mrs. Olsen," I repeated, trying to clear my 
 brain. 
 
 " Yes," said Nancy ; " she came into my room 
 and got me, you know, and put me in with Mrs. 
 Lathrop. A little while ago she came back, and 
 Mrs. Lathrop was waiting for her, and oh, do 
 hurry, Mason." 
 
 " All right," I said; " but I'm not going to let you 
 out of my sight again for any Mrs. Lathrop." 
 
 " Of course not," said Nancy. " Hurry." 
 
 Now that I thought about it again, I heard that 
 the trampling still continued, and as we reached the 
 room, another muffled shriek sounded from within. 
 I threw the door wide open, and gasped with sur-
 
 ESCAPE 289 
 
 prise at the strange sight within. A great striped, 
 blue-ticked pillow lay at my very feet. The floor 
 was a tangled swirl of sheets and blankets, and over 
 it gyrated a broad and apparently headless figure, to 
 which a very rumpled Mrs. Lathrop clung with little, 
 wiry arms. 
 
 " What on earth ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " A pillow case," said Mrs. Lathrop, over her 
 shoulder, as the whirling headless figure swung her 
 half off her feet. " Get a sheet and tie her up. 
 Can't you see I'm busy ? " 
 
 I snatched a sheet from the floor, and after some 
 difficulty succeeded in swathing Mrs. Olsen in it like 
 a mummy, and laying her on the bare springs of 
 the bed. 
 
 " I snuffed her out like a candle," Mrs. Lathrop 
 chuckled, gaspingly, as she twisted her disordered 
 hair into place. " Thank Heaven, that pillow case 
 was new and not as acid-rotted as the rest of the 
 bedclothes. I was waiting for her as she came in. 
 I guess we're about square now." She pushed a 
 long hair-pin home and sighed contentedly. 
 
 " Well," I said, " she will at least do very well 
 where she is. And now I think we'd better be 
 going." 
 
 Indeed, I momentarily began to dread a fresh at- 
 tack from Doctor Mayhew and his man. 
 
 I glanced up anxiously. Nancy was standing in 
 the doorway and, behind her in the hall stood the
 
 290 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 little mercenary. Following my gaze Mrs. Lathrop 
 caught sight of her. 
 
 " Well, Flora," she said, " on the whole you have 
 done very nicely. Suppose you run to the head of 
 the stairs so you can let us know if any one's coming. 
 Now, Mason Ellsworth, how do you propose to get 
 us poor women out of here? " 
 
 " I'm not quite sure," I said ; " either by the front 
 door or by the back door. I'll have to see how 
 things are below." 
 
 "Then," Mrs. Lathrop chirped, with a trium- 
 phant glance backward at the bundled form of Mrs. 
 Olsen, " you go on ahead and Nancy and I will come 
 after you." 
 
 " Wait a minute," I said, when we got into the 
 hall ; " I have a scheme." 
 
 And leaving them standing together, I ran to the 
 room where I had been trapped, and swung Doctor 
 Morrison up on my shoulder. I found him lying 
 in the same position, groaning a little with some 
 slight signs of returning life; but over my shoulder 
 he lay limply enough, with swaying arms that 
 thudded against my back as I ran. Nancy turned 
 white and gave a little gasp as I came back with 
 him. Mrs. Lathrop skipped around behind me to 
 make sure who it was that I carried. 
 
 " Good boy," she said, in such a triumphantly 
 sporting tone and with such an indescribable 
 emphasis of a fellow conqueror, that, for all the
 
 ESCAPE 291 
 
 grave work still before me, I laughed in spite of 
 myself. 
 
 The little mercenary met us at the head of the 
 stairs, her eyes round with wonder at the burden I 
 carried. 
 
 " I've been all the way down," she said, flushing, 
 with a sudden little sidelong look at Nancy. 
 " They are still in the office, I think." 
 
 " All right," I said ; " just keep behind us." 
 
 In that order we went down. Once on the stairs 
 I glanced over my shoulder at Nancy, and she smiled 
 at me bravely, although her eyes shunned the head 
 that dangled at my back. At the corner, before I 
 turned into the longer hall, I shifted the weight on 
 my shoulder, until I held him, awkward in his great 
 bulk, before me. 
 
 We had come almost to the office before Doctor 
 Mayhew made any sign. Then he stepped into the 
 hall with the other man at his heels. The office 
 must have held quite an armament ; for I had already 
 taken one revolver from Doctor Mayhew, and now, 
 not only was he holding another in his uninjured 
 hand, but his man had one also. 
 
 " Keep behind me in single file," I said to the 
 others, " so that I am directly in front of you." 
 
 I clasped Doctor Morrison to me with one arm, 
 and with the other hand drew Doctor Mayhew's lost 
 revolver from my pocket; and so we bore steadily 
 down upon them. Doctor Mayhew raised his re-
 
 292 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 volver ; then lowered it, when he saw what shield I 
 carried in front of me. The man with him would 
 have shot, I think, whether or no, had Mayhew not 
 struck up his hand ; for his eyes blazed at me furi- 
 ously, and, as I came near, I saw that his jaw hung 
 loosely, as if it had been broken. 
 
 " Now," I said, " get back into that office and 
 shut the door behind you." 
 
 Doctor Mayhew shifted nervously, but neither of 
 them obeyed me; so I shot safely over their heads. 
 At that Mayhew bolted for the office, and although 
 the other man lingered threateningly, another and 
 closer shot made him follow after. He did not shut 
 the door; but before I could stop her, the maid had 
 left the line behind me, and skimming down the hall, 
 close to the office side, had reached the door and 
 slammed it after them. I followed as fast as I 
 was able, and propped my burden against it, as 
 some makeshift against its sudden opening; and 
 while the women crowded about me, Nancy close 
 at my side, I got the big key from my pocket, and 
 turned the grumbling lock between us and freedom, 
 then took it out again, and opened the ponderous 
 door upon the sweet air of early morning. Before 
 I could close and lock it behind us, there came an 
 irregular scurry of feet along the hall, two hands 
 beat frantically on the other side, and through the 
 narrowing opening Ephraim Bond squeezed out, 
 and collapsed on the steps at our feet.
 
 XXVIII 
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 
 
 "OAKES alive!" gasped Mrs. Lathrop, " an- 
 O other of them? Is that a patient or one 
 
 of the jailers? " 
 
 "It seems to have been a patient," I answered; 
 
 " and I'm afraid he isn't quite as harmless as he 
 
 looks. I'm not even sure that I ought to let him 
 
 go." 
 
 Nancy was already stooping tenderly over him, 
 Now she recognized him with a little start. Never- 
 theless there was no fear in the eyes she turned to 
 mine. 
 
 " Do you know who he is, Mason ? " she asked 
 gravely. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " but I haven't the slightest idea 
 how he got there. We'd better not put him back, 
 I suppose, nor do I think we need concern ourselves 
 further about him just now. I have things to say 
 to him, but they can wait. I want to speak to 
 Doctor Mayhew for a moment, then we must get 
 back to the inn." 
 
 Close to the ivy I crept along the side of the 
 building until I came to the office window. 
 
 293
 
 294 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 "Doctor Mayhew," I called, without showing 
 myself. 
 
 " Well, what do you want ? " a voice from inside 
 answered sulkily. 
 
 " Just this," I said. " You're locked in now and 
 I have the keys of both the front and the back 
 door, so that I think you'll have some trouble in 
 getting out. I do not know how long you have 
 been running this place; but you ought to be in 
 jail for running it at all, and you know it. I 
 propose, however, to give you a chance. I imagine, 
 from what you said to Mrs. Ellsworth the other 
 evening, that you have at least some spark of de- 
 cency. You had better encourage it. I am going 
 to send the keys back to you in an hour or so. In 
 the next week I expect you to arrange to have all 
 your ' patients ' taken back to their homes. After 
 that, if you'll take my advice, you will engage passage 
 as soon as possible for Europe, where you'd better 
 arrange to pass the remainder of your life in some 
 degree of decency. For I am going to give you 
 just long enough to undo the harm you have done 
 here, or at least to undo it to what measure you 
 are able, and to get safely to the other side. This 
 should take not more than two weeks. After that 
 I am going to swear out a warrant for your arrest." 
 
 Doctor Mayhew's face appeared at the window. 
 
 "Will you swear to that, Mr. Ellsworth?" he 
 asked.
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 295 
 
 " Certainly not," I said ; " and if you should be 
 suddenly tempted to shoot at us from the window, 
 you can count on being arrested before the day 
 is over. On the whole, don't you think I am treat- 
 ing you pretty well, Doctor May hew ? " 
 
 ' Yes," he said, " I suppose you are. It was a 
 mistake, I'll admit, to hold Miss Bond, but our san- 
 atorium has always ranked " 
 
 " Rubbish," I interrupted. " Turn your first new 
 leaf by getting over that trick of perjury. You 
 have two weeks, Doctor Mayhew. Good-by. It is 
 understood, of course, that you pay all ' patients' ' 
 expenses home." 
 
 He nodded dumbly. 
 
 " Oh, by the way," I called back, as I turned to 
 go, " you'll find Mrs. Olsen up-stairs in my aunt's 
 pretty room, and if you want breakfast, you'll 
 have to let your cook out of the cellar. I locked 
 the poor fellow in one of those dark cells." 
 
 It had momently been growing lighter, and 
 now the gray of early morning trembled and flushed 
 with the imminent dawn. Streamers and pennants 
 of rose and beryl were flung from the expectant 
 eastern horizon to the zenith, across the heaven's 
 pale amethyst, broadening and merging, until all 
 the east glowed in a gold-shot glory, a tender, in- 
 effable wonder of coming dawn. 
 
 We must, I think, have looked a strange group 
 in the magic light of that May morning. Mrs.
 
 296 
 
 Lathrop, although she had set herself somewhat to 
 rights, had something of the impudent, roystering 
 air lent by ruffled plumage, and her usual stay-at- 
 home pallor was stained by the flush of triumphant 
 excitement. The dark face of the little maid wore 
 two high spots of color, and her great eyes looked 
 tired and feverish, while her primness, like that of 
 Mrs. Lathrop's, seemed rumpled and tumbled out 
 of reality. Ephraim Bond, shrinking half behind 
 them, looked smaller than my memory of him, a 
 wispish, white shred of a man, a flayed soul cring- 
 ing before the beauty of the day. And I knew 
 myself to look no more normal than the rest. My 
 clothes were torn and dirty; my face smutched and 
 streaked with cobwebs, my left hand half covered 
 by a torn glove, my right hideous in unaccustomed 
 nakedness. Of us all Nancy alone seemed neither 
 garish nor out of place, but stood with the dawn's 
 glory in her eyes, as fresh and fair and lovely as 
 some new-awakened flower, seeming herself the very 
 embodiment of the soft fires of dawn, 'as if morn- 
 ing itself yearned toward her and in very ecstasy 
 spread the earth as a carpet for her feet. 
 
 She must have felt my look ; for slowly and con- 
 fidently she turned her eyes to mine, bride eyes, 
 that bared for me the tender eternal mystery of 
 the soul within, held my own for an infinite in- 
 stant, and again were softly veiled, deep mirrors 
 of the joy of sunrise. From some near-by meadow
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 297 
 
 a thrush burst suddenly into song, a cascading, 
 liquid trill of rapturous melody. Nancy smiled 
 with it and stretched out her hand to me, and with- 
 out a spoken word we turned our backs upon the 
 nightmare of the ivied building, and took the road 
 toward the village. Somewhere behind us the 
 others followed already I had forgotten them. 
 For a while we still went on in silence, walking hand 
 in hand, as two children might. The sun now was 
 fairly risen, and on all sides of us dew-laden grass 
 and leaf flashed and sparkled. Song sparrows 
 leaped to hedge tops at our coming, fluttered and 
 poised a moment, warbled snatches of their morn- 
 ing roundelays and fluttered on to some new vantage 
 point. Nancy sighed contentedly. 
 
 " I was not afraid," she said, " not at all afraid, 
 except for you, for I knew that you would come 
 and that everything would be all right. But oh, 
 Mason dear, I am glad that it is over. It was the 
 waiting, I think, that was the hardest." 
 
 " Do you care," I asked, " to go home again ? 
 Home, I mean, where I first took you, or does the 
 place frighten you now ? " 
 
 Nancy shook her head. " I hoped you would 
 want to go there, Mason, because of so many things ; 
 good things, that were so much bigger than the 
 bad." 
 
 From somewhere ahead of us I heard a faint 
 throbbing, a muffled pulsation of sound that grew
 
 298 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 steadily louder. Nancy looked up at me inquir- 
 ingly. We both stopped and listened. Over the 
 crest of a hill, about half a mile away, appeared an 
 automobile, a little, sweeping thing that came down 
 the road at gathering speed, breaking the quiet with 
 an increasing roar, and growing and looming as it 
 drew near like some red, insane monster, taking 
 a senseless, pre-prandial rush across country. Its 
 red paint flashed and glittered, and a long trail of 
 dust stretched behind it over the road. 
 
 We stood aside to let it pass, but it slowed down 
 and stopped, panting in the road before us. A 
 rather grimy young fellow in dusty, corded livery 
 sat at the wheel, and beside him a little man in 
 goggles, swaddled in an enormous ulster, whose 
 collar nearly reached the cloth cap which he had 
 pulled down over his eyes. The little man beck- 
 oned me with a gauntleted hand, and I stepped 
 across to the car, thinking that he wanted to ask 
 some question about the road. 
 
 " I'll trouble you, Mr. Ellsworth," he said, " to 
 act quite as if you had expected me, as if you had 
 a employed me, in fact, to come and pick 
 you up on this fine May morning. Is that Nancy 
 Bond there? My goggles are somewhat dusty." 
 
 " How on earth, Mr. Ogilby," said I, " did you 
 manage to get here? " 
 
 " I'll tell you about it some other time," he said 
 shortly. " Got the letter you mailed day before
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 299 
 
 yesterday. Took train to Buffalo and hired this 
 car. We can all go back in it. It's much more 
 private. Where's that Mrs. Lathrop? By the way, 
 I congratulate you. Were you hurt? " 
 
 "No," I said, "and I'll tell you all about that 
 some time. Mrs. Lathrop should be right behind 
 us somewhere. I'm afraid I'd rather forgotten 
 about her." 
 
 " That's her coming now, I guess," the chauffeur 
 observed. 
 
 I looked back down the road. I had not been 
 conscious that Nancy and I were walking fast, but 
 either this had been the case, or the others had 
 lagged sorely; for, even yet, they were some dis- 
 tance behind; Mrs. Lathrop, in a conversation with 
 the maid, which was plainly animated; Ephraim 
 Bond trailing dejectedly a few yards behind them. 
 
 " Yes, that is Mrs. Lathrop," I told Mr. Ogilby. 
 " The girl with her is one of the maids of the sana- 
 torium." 
 
 " And who," inquired Mr. Ogilby, " who is that 
 behind them ? Is he one of your party ? " 
 
 " I should hardly call him one of our party," I 
 laughed. " For some reason I do not yet under- 
 stand I 'found him locked up in the sanatorium. 
 You said you knew him, I believe. He is Ephraim 
 Bond, Nancy's uncle." 
 
 " Ephraim Bond ! " exclaimed Mr. Ogilby, as if 
 I had named Beelzebub. " I won't have him in the
 
 3 oo THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 car, do you understand? I won't have him in the 
 car." 
 
 He rose cautiously from his seat to stare back 
 along the road, brushing his gauntlets across his 
 dusty goggles, and after a long scrutiny, sitting 
 down with a chuckle. 
 
 " Locked up in the sanatorium," he repeated half 
 to himself. " Locked up, you say ? Are you quite 
 sure of that?" 
 
 " I certainly found him in a locked room," I re- 
 plied. " In fact, it took me some little time to con- 
 vince him that I myself was not responsible for his 
 being there." 
 
 " ' The way of the transgressor/ " murmured Mr. 
 Ogilby. " It's the funniest thing I ever heard in 
 all my life. Did he did he seem to like it? " 
 
 " He was under two emotions," I replied, " fear 
 and rage." 
 
 " Well, what made you let him out ? " 
 
 " I don't know," I answered. " It was partly 
 force of circumstances, partly because he is, after 
 all, Nancy's uncle, you know. Besides, I have a 
 good deal to say to him, now that I have found 
 him, and while he is still in a chastened frame of 
 mind." 
 
 " All right," said Mr. Ogilby, " you can put him 
 in the tonneau. We will take him back as far as 
 the inn, at any rate. Then we shall see. You're 
 not to expect me to talk, however. As I have said,
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 301 
 
 I have some acquaintance with him, and just at 
 present I am very anxious that he should not recog- 
 nize me. Just bundle them in as soon as they come 
 up, and give your orders to the chauffeur as if you 
 quite expected us to meet you." 
 
 All our conversation had been carried on almost 
 in whispers. Now, as the others were drawing 
 near, I opened the door of the tonneau, and beck- 
 oning Nancy from the roadside, settled her in the 
 automobile. 
 
 " I'll tell you all about it later," I whispered to 
 her. "Hurry, Mrs. Lathrop," I called. "We're 
 not going to wait for the morning train." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop came up with some surprise in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " You didn't say anything to me about an auto- 
 mobile," she said ; " still I always have admired the 
 thought of riding in one." And she hopped into 
 the car, smiled at Nancy, and sat down beside her. 
 
 " Come," I said to the maid, " shall we take you 
 back to the village? " 
 
 " I hardly know," she said. " No, I shall not go 
 back to the village, Mr. Ellsworth. There is a 
 short cut to my home a little way below here, and 
 I can walk there easily enough. Do you think 
 they'll arrest me if I stay? " 
 
 "I'm sure they won't," I replied. "I think I 
 have convinced Doctor Mayhew of the absurdity of 
 making trouble for any one. I still owe you some
 
 302 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 money though, you may remember. Where shall 
 I send it?" 
 
 She flushed and hesitated. " Mr. Ellsworth," she 
 said, " I would rather not have the money." 
 
 "That's absurd," I said; "it's a bargain. You 
 have earned it." 
 
 Her color grew deeper, and as she raised her 
 dark eyes, I saw that there were tears in them. 
 
 " Will you think it impertinent," she asked, " if 
 I don't take it? I like to feel that that perhaps 
 I have been of some help, though I wanted the 
 money badly enough at first. But can't you believe 
 that I forgot about it, that the help I gave you in 
 the end was only because because I wanted to 
 of my own free will ? Can you possibly think of a 
 girl like me as as a friend, Mr. Ellsworth ? " 
 
 " Why, yes," I replied, suddenly a little em- 
 barrassed, " and there's my hand on it. But if 
 you get into any straits, a letter will reach me ad- 
 dressed to the Hotel Gloria, New York City." 
 
 She took my ungloved hand in both of hers, 
 looked into my eyes for a moment, then looked 
 past me to Nancy and back to me again. 
 
 " I hope you will be very happy," she said and 
 started as if to pass us. 
 
 " Wait a moment," I said ; " I want to ask some- 
 thing still further of your friendship." 
 
 She had dashed the tears from her eyes, and now 
 she was smiling at me.
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 303 
 
 " I want you to take these keys," I said, " and see 
 that they get to some one who will let out our pris- 
 oners. And there is a man I tied up, behind that 
 clump of bushes opposite the sanatorium. He ought 
 to be set free as soon as possible. I am afraid he 
 is pretty cramped already, and although he doesn't 
 deserve it, I am going to let him go this time. Can 
 you have these things done for me ? " 
 
 " Yes/' she said, and tucked the big keys into 
 her belt " Would it be too much trouble," she 
 asked hesitatingly, " to see if you could find me 
 a place in a good hospital? I would work very 
 hard, Mr. Ellsworth." She hesitated again; then, 
 " And very honestly," she added. 
 
 " I am sure of that," I answered gravely. 
 " Write me at the Hotel Gloria, telling me about 
 yourself, and I will see what I can do." 
 
 She went over to the automobile and said good-by 
 to Nancy. Mrs. Lathrop from her high seat patted 
 her on the shoulder, and both called good-by after 
 her as she set out across the fields. I turned to find 
 Ephraim Bond standing in the middle of the road, 
 like some lost soul alone in infinite space. 
 
 " Well," I said, " hadn't you better get into the 
 automobile ? " 
 
 He started as if he had been struck, and without 
 answering me, moved apathetically forward and 
 climbed into a place beside Mrs. Lathrop. I got up 
 after him, closing the door after me, and perched
 
 304 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 myself on the upholstered side where I could be 
 close to Nancy. 
 
 " All right," I said; " let her go." 
 
 The soft purr of the waiting motor broke ab- 
 ruptly into a roar. The car started forward with 
 an almost imperceptible jerk. The chauffeur threw 
 in the high, stilling the motor into a steady drone, 
 and we started to glide up the gentle hill with a 
 growing and easy velocity. Fields that I had begun 
 to know already slipped kaleidoscopically behind us, 
 and miles that had seemed long to walk or drive were 
 only brief ribbons of road to our devouring speed. 
 At the inn we slowed down and came to a stop. 
 It was full daylight now, and the little country 
 village was already astir. Blinds were everywhere 
 being thrown open as we passed, and a yawning 
 hired man was sousing the inn steps with water. 
 
 Mr. Ogilby whispered something t to his chauffeur, 
 and they both climbed out and went into the inn, 
 in the door of which the chauffeur presently reap- 
 peared and beckoned me. 
 
 " See what they want," said Nancy, and I vaulted 
 over the side of the car and followed the chauffeur 
 into a little waiting-room, where I found Mr. Ogilby 
 waiting for me. 
 
 " I have decided," he began abruptly, " not to go 
 on any farther. The car is really carrying too 
 much weight, and besides, well, I've determined to 
 go back by train.
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 303 
 
 " No, don't argue about it," he went on, as I 
 started to interrupt. " I am quite determined. 
 You're to take the car and use it as long as you like. 
 That is all arranged for. Can you run it your- 
 self?" 
 
 " Why, yes," I said in my surprise ; " but - 
 
 " Please don't start arguing," said Mr. Ogilby ; 
 " if you can run it, go out and do it. I'm going to 
 keep the chauffeur to do some things for me. You 
 can make much better time going light. Take Nancy 
 in the front seat with you and make a pleasant trip 
 of it. If you'll take my advice, though, you will 
 drop Ephraim Bond as soon as you've had your 
 talk with him," He paused with a sudden chuckle. 
 " To think of his being locked up in that sana- 
 torium," he said. " It's the funniest thing I ever 
 heard in my life. Well, run along now. I have 
 had your things put into the automobile. You will 
 find plenty of road maps under the driver's seat. 
 I will pay your bill here. Remember, though, you're 
 not to talk about me." 
 
 He gave my hand a quick grasp, gave me a lusty 
 thwack between the shoulders, and with both hands 
 pushed me toward the door.
 
 XXIX 
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 TT THERE are your friends?" Mrs. Lathrop 
 VV asked, as I came out again to the car 
 and started cranking up. 
 
 "Friends?" I repeated, remembering Mr. Ogil- 
 by's injunction. " Oh, you mean the two men 
 that brought the car to meet us. They aren't going 
 on any farther." 
 
 " Oh, I see," Mrs. Lathrop replied, but I do not 
 think she did at all; for I had told her something 
 of my means, and this sudden acquisition of a large 
 automobile must have nearly strained her curiosity 
 to the bursting point. Nevertheless, she crossed 
 her hands in resignation. 
 
 " I only hope," she said, leaning back, " that you 
 have some idea how to run one of these things, and 
 will keep in mind that life is still sweet to me, Mr. 
 Ellsworth." 
 
 " I think you can depend on me," I answered ; 
 " and Nancy, if she will, is going to sit in front with 
 me, which," I added maliciously, " will give you an 
 opportunity for a little tete-a-tete with Mr. Bond. 
 By the way, I beg your pardon; I am afraid you 
 
 306
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 307 
 
 have not met Mr. Bond. Mrs. Lathrop, may I in- 
 troduce Mr. Bond? You have heard me speak of 
 him, I am sure. He is my uncle-in-law, and he is 
 going down with us into Pennsylvania." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop sniffed, and, I regret to say, winked 
 at me portentously. 
 
 " Mr. Bond," she said, " you don't know how 
 pleased I am to meet you. Mason has said so much 
 of his fairy godfather." 
 
 Ephraim Bond said nothing, and looked so wan 
 and dazed and stricken that I almost found it in 
 my heart to be sorry for him. Mrs. Lathrop evi- 
 dently was made of sterner stuff, and as Nancy 
 changed into the front seat, I heard her assuring 
 him of the joy it must be to shower blessings with 
 such an open hand. Then, with Nancy by my side, 
 and the open road before me, with home at its 
 farther end, I forgot about them, as I had already 
 done once that morning. For a little while we 
 talked in monosyllables. A strange shyness seemed 
 to have come upon Nancy; and acquainting myself 
 with the intricacies of an unfamiliar car took my 
 mechanical attention. At the first crossroads we 
 stopped, and I had out my road maps; for it oc- 
 curred to me joyfully that I need not take the 
 roundabout route via New York, nor perhaps even 
 return as far as Syracuse, but could strike directly 
 south, cutting into Pennsylvania somewhere below 
 Binghamton and, by way of Scranton, come down
 
 3 o8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 to Doylestown and home. Nancy held the fluttering 
 maps straight in her lap, while I painfully plotted 
 our route and made some rough estimation of the 
 miles ; finding, to my surprise, that we had but little 
 over two hundred and fifty miles to go, with such 
 an early start, a not impossible day's journey for 
 the car I was driving. The road was perfect, and 
 save for an occasional farmer or dairyman we had 
 it to ourselves, so that by breakfast time we were 
 in Cortland. 
 
 And we were all of us very ready for breakfast. 
 The rush through the May sunshine, and perhaps 
 some measure of re-found happiness, had acted on 
 Nancy like a tonic. Mrs. Lathrop was once again 
 her natural, vivacious, bird-like self. Even Eph- 
 raim Bond, by what miracle of teasing and cajolery 
 I could never understand, looked, not himself again, 
 but a new and altogether more pleasing old gentle- 
 man. At the hotel I made some shift at removing 
 the marks of my night conflict, and although my 
 clothes were so torn that I thought it best to sit 
 down at table in a driving dust-coat, yet, but for 
 this incongruity, I felt, and I think looked, fairly 
 presentable. Nancy, I know, was a radiant crea- 
 ture, whose sparkling beauty fairly dazzled me. 
 She was hatless, of course, but with Mrs. Lathrop's 
 voluminous veil half shrouding the glory of her 
 hair, caught in some dexterous intricacy at the 
 neck, and falling from her shoulders in wondrous
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 309 
 
 folds that I am sure it had never known, she had 
 all the dainty loveliness of some incarnate Tana- 
 gra. I proposed that she should rest after break- 
 fast, but she would have none of it. 
 
 " We have gone such a little way," she said, " and 
 truly, I am not at all tired, and I want, oh, I so 
 very much want to get home." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop herself seemed impatient to be on 
 the way. What Ephraim Bond felt did not in the 
 least matter. When we were once on the road 
 again I turned to Nancy. 
 
 " Do you feel like telling me about it? " I asked 
 rather uncertainly. " I want to know, but of course 
 I can wait." 
 
 Nancy put her hand on my arm. " I want to tell 
 you," she said. "It doesn't trouble me; nothing 
 can now, Mason ; and I know that you must be very 
 perplexed about it all. 
 
 " After you left me, I went about that dear, 
 sweet old house with the good woman you had left 
 with me, straightening little things and arranging 
 them, putting our purchases on the kitchen shelves, 
 and making my little bow to the place that was to 
 be home. I wonder if you know, Mason, how 
 sweet it all was, how wonderful and new and old, 
 as if I had been dropped suddenly into a place 
 much better than heaven, which somehow did not 
 surprise me at all. I am afraid I left most of the 
 work to Mrs. Blake; for I ran in and out of doors
 
 310 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 and up and down stairs, fairly reveling in it all; 
 and I tried not to think you were taking long, and 
 then not to be afraid because the time was so short, 
 and after I had looked again to see if you were 
 coming, I went up to my room, and getting some 
 sewing, played that I was very domestic indeed. 
 I don't know how he ever came in so quietly, Mason. 
 I did hear a little noise just before he came into 
 the room, so that I laid aside my embroidery and 
 jumped up. 
 
 " And then it was awful. He stood in the door 
 and laughed at me, an insolent, terrible laugh, 
 Mason, that frightened me so I could not move 
 until he touched me; and then it was too late, for 
 he got both my wrists in one of those great hands 
 of his, and though I fought as hard as I was 
 able, he dragged me over to the window and tied 
 my hands together with the curtain cord. That 
 Mrs. Olsen came into the room then (I thought 
 she was Mrs. Blake at first, and called out to her), 
 and each of them took an elbow and half carried 
 me out to the buggy they had waiting in the road. 
 You know the rest of it, Mason. We stayed at 
 Mrs. Lathrop's that night, and I wrote a note to 
 you there. Next morning we went on to New 
 York, and spent that night at a lodging-house in 
 Syracuse; and the morning after that they took 
 me to Winford, and locked me up in that sanato- 
 rium.
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 311 
 
 " It was cruelly easy to do it all. From Phila- 
 delphia to New York, and from New York to Syra- 
 cuse we had a private compartment on the train, 
 but once in the Pennsylvania station and once in 
 the lodging-house at Syracuse I managed to speak 
 to people; but it wasn't of the slightest use. The 
 one word ' insane ' made people shrink away from 
 me. Any determined man and woman, posing as 
 doctor and nurse, could, I think, abduct almost any- 
 one else. People take the word of the majority 
 so much as a matter of course. It is not like being 
 a criminal, where they have to prove you guilty. 
 For some reason people accept the premise that you 
 are insane until you have proved that you are not, 
 and then hurry away without giving you any chance 
 of making such a proof. 
 
 " Neither of them talked to me much while we 
 were traveling, but as soon as I was safely locked 
 up, he came into my room and had a long talk with 
 me. He told me, in the first place, that I was not 
 really married to you, and then he said that he 
 could keep me there until I consented to marry 
 him, even if he had to wait a year or so. I told 
 him that he had forgotten one thing, that a person 
 had to be judged insane by the court; but he said 
 as no one knew where I was, and as Doctor May- 
 hew agreed with him, he thought we might dispense 
 with that formality." 
 
 While Nancy talked I let the car drop to a more
 
 312 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 gentle rate of speed, that I might listen without 
 danger to us all. 
 
 " Nancy," I said, " do you know that you have 
 never told me who the man is ? His name was torn 
 off the note you gave me at Mrs. Lathrop's, and 
 Doctor Mayhew came in before I could ask you, 
 there at the window at the sanatorium. I know 
 what he looks like and that he calls himself Doctor 
 Morrison. Who is he, Nancy ? " 
 
 Nancy looked over her shoulder where her uncle 
 and Mrs. Lathrop sat in the tonneau. 
 
 " He is his son," she said, in a very soft voice ; 
 " my own cousin, Erskine Bond." 
 
 " Your cousin? " I repeated aloud. 
 
 " Hush," said Nancy, " he'll hear." 
 
 But I think that Ephraim Bond had already 
 caught the name of his son, so'ftly as she had whis- 
 pered it, and in spite of the faint drumming of the 
 motor. 
 
 " Yes, my son," he said, leaning forward between 
 us; " for my sins, my own son." 
 
 Our road was winding through a long strip of 
 woods. Now I slowed down the motor, and backed 
 the car from the road into a vague logging trail 
 that emerged between the beeches, running cau- 
 tiously backward until the yellow highway was only 
 a door of light ahead of us. There I brought the 
 car to a standstill and shut off the power. I turned 
 to find Mr. Bond white and frightened at his own
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 313 
 
 admission and the suddenness of my manceuver. 
 But for Mrs. Lathrop's excited clutch on his sleeve, 
 I think he would have tried to climb out of the car. 
 I did not speak to him for a moment, but turned 
 again to Nancy. 
 
 " He was the man behind the curtain that first day 
 then," I said. " You knew he was in the house 
 then, Nancy? " 
 
 She nodded. "Yes," she said, "I thought it 
 was he, and it frightened me, for he had no business 
 there then." 
 
 " No, he had not," Ephraim Bond interrupted. 
 " I had forbidden him the house, forbidden it for 
 all time. If I had known he was there, if you 
 had had the sense to tell me, Nancy, I should have 
 called the police; but I never suspected it until I 
 saw him running after a bus just as you drove 
 away." 
 
 I sat silent, thinking. Furtively Nancy's hand 
 stole gently into mine. 
 
 " But, why," I asked, " didn't you tell me about 
 him in the first place ? I should think it would have 
 been the first thing you would have told me." 
 
 Nancy looked up at me and actually laughed. 
 " And lose you the next minute ? " she said. " I 
 knew you too well, and not well enough." Her 
 face grew serious. " I really meant to tell you, 
 Mason. I was going to tell you. It was you your- 
 self who stopped me. Do you remember our walk
 
 3 i4 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 into the village together, when I tried to tell you 
 all about my life, and what it had been? I would 
 have told you then about Erskine, although I didn't 
 like even to think of him, but I was afraid to. I 
 told you about Uncle Ephraim and that was bad 
 enough. Do you know what you said you would 
 like to do to him? " 
 
 " Kill him, I think," I confessed. 
 
 Ephraim Bond moaned in the seat behind us, so 
 that I suppose he was listening. 
 
 " Well," Nancy said, " it frightened me terribly. 
 For all I knew, you might have turned around and 
 gone right back to New York. If I told you about 
 my cousin, I was sure that you would do so. You 
 were all the happiness I had in the world, Mason." 
 She smiled at me again. " I loved you distractedly 
 even then, you see. My father was dead and you 
 were all I had. I didn't want revenge, I wanted 
 happiness. I wanted to put them all out of my 
 life, and only prayed that they would never come 
 into it again. I meant to tell you some day, when 
 I could make you understand all that. I couldn't 
 afford to risk it then, and I couldn't tell you how 
 much I cared. Surely, you know that I never 
 loved Erskine. I do not need to tell you that. 
 Moreover I do not think that he ever loved me. 
 Uncle Ephraim knows why he wanted to marry 
 me." 
 
 She was trying, I know, to deal mercifully with
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 315 
 
 the old man in the tonneau; but, in spite of herself, 
 a little tinge of bitterness crept into her voice. 
 
 " He arranged the marriage," she went on ; " he 
 and father between them, he told me, although I 
 have never believed that. I have never known why 
 it was, why everybody seemed to want it so much, 
 unless it had something to do with money; for I 
 have never liked Erskine, and they all knew it. 
 When he began to make love to me I detested him. 
 Was it money, Uncle Ephraim ? " she asked. 
 
 Ephraim Bond sank back against the leather 
 cushions, white and silent. 
 
 " Answer her," I said. 
 
 He moaned and winced as if I had struck him. 
 Mrs. Lathrop hopped to her feet and fairly shook 
 him. 
 
 " Answer her ! Answer her ! " she cried. " Don't 
 be a fool. Nobody's going to kill you." 
 
 She had some strange power that Ephraim Bond 
 seemed unable to resist. He raised one hand to 
 his trembling lips, and looking away from us, began 
 to speak in a colorless monotone. 
 
 " It was the wish of my brother," he said; " his 
 living wish and his dying wish, that our two families 
 should be held together yet closer. He even " 
 Mr. Bond paused. 
 
 " Yes," Mrs. Lathrop prompted. " He even said 
 so in his will. Of course it was money. You 
 might as well tell about it."
 
 316 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " Against my judgment," the old man whispered, 
 " quite against my judgment, he did make such an 
 arrangement in his will. He had a little money, 
 not much, but a little. This was to go to Nancy if 
 she married my son." 
 
 I pressed Nancy's hand and smiled at her reas- 
 suringly. 
 
 " It doesn't seem possible," she said. " They 
 told me father wished it, but I never believed them. 
 He could not have been himself to have written 
 such a thing." 
 
 " Perhaps it was written for him," I said. 
 " Well, Mr. Bond, and if Nancy did not marry your 
 son?" 
 
 " It was all quite, quite against my judgment," he 
 quavered ; " you understand that ; but my brother 
 was so set on the matter, I could not influence 
 him. I did not approve of such a will, but he was 
 very headstrong, very headstrong." 
 
 " I suppose," said Mrs. Lathrop, " that, if Nancy 
 refused to do this, the money reverted to you." 
 
 Ephraim Bond looked up at her quickly, his rab- 
 bit chin trembling and his pale eyes wide with 
 terror. 
 
 " It was quite against my will," he repeated. 
 
 " Of course," Mrs. Lathrop commented dryly. 
 ' Then I suppose," I said, " you quarreled with 
 your son for some reason or other, and decided that
 
 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 317 
 
 you could get this money for yourself, and brought 
 me in to help you." 
 
 But his fear seemed to have at last quite over- 
 mastered him, making him incapable of further 
 coherent thought or answer. 
 
 " It was quite against my wish," he whispered 
 again, as if no thought were behind the words. 
 
 Nancy was crying softly, and I put my arm about 
 her. 
 
 " Dear heart," I said, " can you forgive me ? I 
 meant so to help you, and it seems I have only 
 done you a wrong." 
 
 She took my face between gentle hands and kissed 
 me. 
 
 " Wrong? " she said, " wrong? You've done me 
 the greatest right in the world. Surely, Mason, you 
 will not hurt me by thinking I cared about the 
 money? What difference can money make? Do 
 you think I would not work on my knees all my 
 life for you? It is happiness and love that I want, 
 and you, Mason; for you are both of them to me. 
 Money! when all my world is you? It was think- 
 ing about poor father that made me cry; what they 
 must have done to him to make him write such 
 things ! " 
 
 "// he wrote them," I said. "From what I 
 know of your uncle and cousin, I think that we can 
 be pretty sure that he did not. They may have
 
 3 i8 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 made him sign something without reading it, but 
 that is all he could have done." 
 
 " You forget, Mason," said Nancy, " that he was 
 not himself for a good many years." 
 
 I got out of the automobile and lifted Ephraim 
 Bond bodily from his seat, carrying him out of 
 hearing; for a new thought had come to me, some- 
 thing that was not for Nancy's ears. 
 
 " I know now," I said, holding him at arm's 
 length, " where your son got his suggestion." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he cried, struggling. 
 "What suggestion?" 
 
 " I mean," said I, " that he took an easy method 
 of disposing of two perfectly sane people; and I 
 think, Mr. Bond, that Jie learned that method at 
 home. I shall keep you with me until I learn if the 
 original method ended, perhaps, in murder."
 
 XXX 
 
 THE CATASTROPHE 
 
 EPHRAIM BOND did not answer me, and I 
 half marched, half dragged him back to the 
 car, returning him to the tonneau with, I fear, no 
 gentle hand. 
 
 For a few miles the car ran well ; then something 
 went wrong, and although I stopped again and again 
 to look for the trouble, I was unable to locate it. 
 Motors, like people, seem subject to small, vague 
 indispositions which, aside from a thorough over- 
 hauling, defy a diagnosis. We would run for a 
 mile or so with a perfect and gratifying smooth- 
 ness, then the motor would unaccountably begin to 
 skip, change its mind and run again smoothly, then 
 come to an unexpected and absolute standstill, so 
 that luncheon time found us only as far as Bing- 
 hamton. And although during the afternoon we 
 managed to cross the state line and get into Penn- 
 sylvania, yet as the afternoon advanced it became 
 more and more plain that we should be unable to 
 reach home that night, and as we limped into Scran- 
 ton barely in time for a late supper, with over half 
 our journey still before us, we resigned ourselves
 
 320 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 wearily to fate and decided to spend the night there. 
 I was able to get a good room for Nancy and Mrs. 
 Lathrop, and passable accommodation for Ephraim 
 Bond and myself. I could have done better, the 
 hotel-keeper informed me, if I wished to take a single 
 room, but I found myself unwilling to let Nancy's 
 devious uncle out of my sight. Even after we had 
 registered, and I had left Nancy and Mrs. Lathrop 
 to get ready for supper, I took Mr. Bond with me 
 to the garage recommended by the proprietor, where 
 they optimistically hoped to have the car in good 
 driving condition by starting time the next day. 
 
 Of supper we made but a poor meal. All of us 
 were, I think, tired and a little nervous, for the 
 vexatious, halting journey recalled and emphasized 
 the fatigues of the previous sleepless night, which, 
 under the first stimulus of pleasant driving, we had 
 forgotten. 
 
 " It will be much nicer," Nancy said, as she kissed 
 me good night, " to get home in the daytime. 
 What did you do with the key of the house, Ma- 
 son?" 
 
 " I left it under the door-mat," I said ; " I thought 
 perhaps you might come back while I was away." 
 
 Nancy sighed in my arms. " I am so glad I 
 didn't," she said; "this is much nicer just as it is." 
 
 When I had Ephraim Bond alone in the room 
 I tried wearily to question him, but he had grown 
 sulky and suspicious. He cursed his son readily
 
 THE CATASTROPHE 321 
 
 enough, and told me that he himself had been 
 brought to the sanatorium by Doctor Mayhew in 
 much the same manner as his son and Mrs. Olsen 
 had taken Nancy. But he would answer no further 
 questions, and finally I decided to let my curiosity 
 wait and see what a night's sleep would do for him. 
 He crept into bed muttering to himself, and in a 
 few moments was apparently sound asleep. I drew 
 a chair to the table under the single gas-light, and 
 wrote a short note to Mr. Ogilby. I was too tired, 
 I knew, to go immediately to bed, and after I had 
 sealed my letter, I leaned back in my chair, going 
 over in my mind the many happenings of the last 
 twenty- four hours; and as I reviewed them my 
 strained nerves relaxed. It was all going to come 
 out happily. What the future held for me I did 
 not know, but now I had Nancy again, and I knew 
 that it could be nothing but good. I had Nancy 
 again, and to-morrow I was going to be really mar- 
 ried. With the thought I straightened in my chair; 
 for I suddenly remembered that now I had no 
 marriage license. I had thoughtlessly tucked it into 
 my note-book, and this, with everything else, had 
 been taken from me as I lay unconscious in Central 
 Park. I could get another in Doylestown, I knew; 
 but I feared that by some unknown official vagary 
 the office might be closed, imposing on me an im- 
 possible delay. Whether or not I could get one at 
 some point in my journey I did not know, but be-
 
 322 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 cause it was so important to me, I dreaded lest it 
 should be refused to such a casual party of tourists 
 as we seemed. Then I remembered Mr. Stevens, 
 and turned out my pockets on the table. 
 
 I had a few papers of my own, and with the ones 
 which I had taken from Stevens the night before, 
 they made quite a heap upon the table. I sorted 
 through them rapidly, and, to my joy, found not 
 only my note-book, but the license I had taken out 
 at Doylestown still tucked safely inside it. I 
 smoothed it out before me on the table, a common- 
 place sheet of paper enough, but to me a mysterious 
 and precious passport into paradise, its sober legal 
 phrasing joining Nancy's name with mine in a won- 
 derful and magical unity. 
 
 Mr. Stevens' letters, when I came to read them 
 (and I opened them without mental apology), were 
 an amazing collection of miscellaneous rascality. 
 They were signed, for the most part, by names I 
 did not know, and spoke of events in which I had 
 no present interest, but among them I came upon 
 one, stamped and sealed and addressed, not to 
 Stevens, but to Erskine Bond, in care of Doctor 
 May hew. The writing itself was non-committal, 
 the facile, flourishing, unlovely copper-plate, which 
 betrays nothing of the writer's character, except, 
 perhaps, that he is able to adopt at will any hand- 
 writing he wishes, whether it be some disguise of 
 his own or the characteristic script of another man.
 
 THE CATASTROPHE 323 
 
 I tore open the envelope with a quickening interest. 
 The letter was of some length, and signed simply 
 " Stevens." I could imagine as I read it how he 
 gnawed his penholder and his already picked and 
 bitten finger-tips; for what he wrote bared almost 
 indecently the mongrel soul of the man. He blus- 
 tered and threatened, cringed, whined and begged, 
 angry with one sentence, groveling with the very 
 next ; in one breath he seemed to pray for assistance 
 and snarl a hint of blackmail. 
 
 He spoke of some former letter he had written, 
 and which had remained unanswered, and ran over, 
 as if he were repeating it, the list of his offenses 
 against me in the service of his employer : his ingra- 
 tiating himself with Ephraim Bond, his officiating at 
 our " wedding," his finding of me in New York, and 
 the attack he and his pals had made upon me in 
 the park; and he added that, since his last letter, 
 he had seen me in the subway, but owing to an 
 accident had been unable to follow me, adding, 
 further, that as I was carrying traveling-bags, there 
 was a possibility that I might be on my way to 
 Win ford. But the burden, soul and text of the 
 letter was that he had not been paid. He had not 
 been paid, he had performed many and dangerous 
 services (dangerous, should they be discovered, to 
 both employer and employed), he had performed 
 his half of the bargain faithfully, and now if 
 Erskine Bond thought he could cheat him out of
 
 324 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 his rights, let him beware. He would have his 
 money if they both had to go to jail for it, and 
 jail it would be if the facts were known. But he 
 proclaimed an infinite preference for jail for them 
 both, to liberty in his present state of being 
 " trimmed." 
 
 Why the letter was not mailed I do not know. 
 Perhaps his vacillating courage was not up to it, or 
 he may have written and sent another which pleased 
 him more; but, at least, I now knew why he had 
 come to my hiding-place opposite the sanatorium. 
 This time he hunted, not me, but his employer. It 
 was like him that he should spy upon him first. 
 
 With infinite satisfaction I put the letter back 
 into its envelope, and sweeping the whole heap into 
 my traveling-bag, made ready for bed. 
 
 It seemed that I had only slept a little while, 
 when there came a thunderous knock on the door. 
 I opened my eyes to find that it was already morn- 
 ing, and that this was the call for which I had 
 arranged at the office. I felt sore and stiff as I 
 got up, but with my bath this feeling disappeared, 
 and I set about my dressing gaily. I had been up 
 some time before I remembered my room-mate. A 
 glance at his bed told me that it was empty. With 
 childish craft he had arranged the pillows under the 
 bedclothes, which, I suppose, had at first subcon- 
 sciously contented me. Now I hurried through my 
 dressing and went down to the office.
 
 THE CATASTROPHE 325 
 
 "Has the other gentleman come down yet?" I 
 asked. 
 
 !< Why, yes," I was assured ; " he came down 
 about daylight, I think. He said he had to take 
 the early train for New York and that you knew all 
 about it." 
 
 " Very well," I said, hiding my annoyance as well 
 as I was able, for, after all, he was clean gone and 
 there was no use crying over spilt milk. If I 
 needed him again he would not be very hard to 
 find; for, if I needed him, it would mean that he 
 had committed a crime, and the matter would be 
 taken out of my hands. 
 
 " Your uncle thought it best to go back to New 
 York," I said to Nancy at breakfast. " He left, in 
 fact, before I was awake." 
 
 " I am very glad," Nancy said simply. 
 
 " You mean," Mrs. Lathrop asked, " that he ran 
 away? " 
 
 " I am afraid he did," I answered ; " so that now 
 you will have the tonneau all to yourself." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop sniffed. " I must say," she said, 
 " that for a rascal he was a terribly uninteresting 
 man." 
 
 The garage-keeper may have been worthy and up- 
 right and a good citizen, but as a mechanic he was a 
 hopeless failure. He returned me the car and a 
 very sizable bill, fairly glowing with what he may 
 have supposed was justifiable pride.
 
 326 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 " I found the trouble," he said, " and fixed your 
 pump, too. That didn't seem to be coupled on just 
 right. I worked on the thing myself to almost mid- 
 night." 
 
 And, indeed, for the first two or three miles I 
 blessed him; for the car ran with all its first serene 
 rapidity. Then there came a new sound, which I 
 recognized with a sinking heart from the pounding 
 of the engine, and which slowly increased, until 
 some time later we were forced to stop. A glance 
 under the hood told me what was the trouble. The 
 over-officious mechanic in tampering with the pump 
 had rendered it practically useless, so that the en- 
 gine had grown very hot, and the water was boiling 
 in the radiator. There was nothing to do but to 
 wait until it cooled and we were able to run on 
 again to run on until the new laboring of the 
 engines warned me that it was again time to stop. 
 In this halting way we made our journey. But the 
 night's sleep had refreshed us all, so that we took 
 our misfortunes cheerfully enough. 
 
 " It does seem pleasant,". Mrs. Lathrop said, " to 
 be riding round like this as if there wasn't a lick 
 of work to do in the whole world. Just the same, 
 I suppose you'd better manage to go through Buck- 
 ingham and drop me on the way." 
 
 Nancy leaned over and whispered to me. 
 
 " Mrs. Lathrop," I said, " you are going to have 
 a great honor. You're to be the only guest at our
 
 THE CATASTROPHE 327, 
 
 wedding. Nancy thinks that Doylestown is the 
 best place to be married in, so if you will come 
 that far and be matron of honor or something like 
 that, you can start with us on our honeymoon ; and 
 we'll drive out to Buckingham after the wedding 
 and leave you there before we go home. Even 
 with the car acting this way we should be in Doyles- 
 town by one o'clock." 
 
 Mrs. Lathrop flushed quite unexpectedly. 
 
 " I should love to do it," she said, " but I'm not 
 hardly what you'd call dressed for a wedding." 
 
 Nancy looked down at her own striped gingham 
 dress. 
 
 " Do you think this is a pretty wedding-dress ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " No, I don't," said Mrs. Lathrop emphatically, 
 " and that settles it. We stop at Buckingham 
 whether that young man wants us to or not. It 
 doesn't make any difference how much of a hurry 
 he is in. I'm not going to see you married in that 
 convict dress. Why," she went on, with rising in- 
 dignation, " that Mrs. Olsen wore one cut off the 
 same piece of goods. You're a mite taller than I 
 am, but I guess I can fix you." 
 
 And so it was arranged. To reach Buckingham 
 needed but a slight detour, and we drew up before 
 Mrs. Lathrop's handkerchief of a lawn a few min- 
 utes before noon. I waited in the car while Nancy 
 and Mrs. Lathrop, their arms about each other's
 
 328 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 waists like two girls, disappeared into the house. 
 After a not insupportable time they came out to the 
 car again, Nancy swathed in a long rain-coat, with 
 the hood drawn up over her head, little satin slippers 
 peeping beneath the hem, and Mrs. Lathrop bon- 
 neted and shawled and in the conscious dignity of 
 a silk dress. 
 
 The car had cooled during the wait, and we ran 
 to Doylestown without a stop, finding the rector 
 at his very gate. He called his wife as our other 
 witness, and unlocked the door of the dim, lovely 
 little church for us. 
 
 In the light of the vestibule Mrs. Lathrop 
 stopped Nancy, and unhooking the rain-coat, care- 
 fully turned back the hood and took it from her 
 shoulders, with all the loving solicitude and triumph- 
 ant pleasure of a true fairy godmother. And it was 
 indeed as if she waved a wand; for Nancy stepped 
 from the dark garment like a new-blown flower, 
 her bride-veil a floating, almost impalpable thing 
 behind her, which scarcely dimmed the luster of her 
 hair, and fell in nebulous softness to the sweeping, 
 embroidered satin train. There were tears in Mrs. 
 Lathrop's eyes as she kissed her. 
 
 " My own dress, dearie," she said, " and I never 
 thought to see any one so lovely in it." 
 
 There were tears in Nancy's eyes, I think, too, 
 happy tears as she stood shyly proud before me; 
 and half afraid, I stretched out my hand to her,
 
 THE CATASTROPHE 329 
 
 and together we walked up the aisle to where, at 
 the altar, the rector already awaited us. 
 
 I made my responses as well as I was able be- 
 fore the soft and glowing wonder of her, and like 
 a swift dream it was over and I found myself once 
 more out again in the bright sunshine with Nancy 
 surely my wife. It was in a sort of golden daze 
 that I drove the car back to Buckingham, where 
 Mrs. Lathrop waved us an au revoir from her front 
 gate. I was an irresponsible driver, I am sure, for 
 I must look constantly from the road to Nancy 
 sitting beside me, to assure myself ever and again 
 that this was not some dream. 
 
 It was this mental detachment, I suppose, that 
 made me utterly forget our troubles with the car, 
 so that before I had noticed the laboring of the 
 motor it came dully to a stop near the railroad 
 station in Doylestown. 
 
 When I got out the water was boiling furiously 
 in the radiator, sending a jet of steam from the 
 vent in the cap. 
 
 I stooped and bent my back to the crank, heaving 
 senselessly against the overheated engine. Nancy 
 gave a sharp little scream, and still stooping, I 
 glanced over my shoulder. 
 
 Erskine Bond was standing on the sidewalk be- 
 hind me and as I saw him he shot. 
 
 There came a sting of pain in my shoulder, and 
 I remember thinking with satisfaction that the bul-
 
 330 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 let had touched no bone, but in that photographic 
 flash I saw that it had gone through me, cutting 
 obliquely through the soft metal of the radiator. 
 Then a blinding puff of steam rose before my eyes; 
 and over my hands, which still clutched the crank, 
 poured a small cascade of boiling water.
 
 XXXI 
 
 HOME 
 
 I OPENED my eyes and lay staring up weakly 
 at the white calcimined ceiling, where just 
 above me the run of an irregular crack drew the 
 grotesque profile of an old man, a profile that seemed 
 to my thinking a caricature of Ephraim Bond. The 
 blinds were drawn and the room was in semi-twi- 
 light; but a broken shutter slat let in a single bar 
 of the bright sunshine without, throwing a narrow 
 wedge of light across the room, and making a bril- 
 liant patch on the old-fashioned, flowered paper of 
 the wall. In a room near by some one was singing, 
 singing softly a merry, contented little song, so 
 softly that I could not hear the words, but only the 
 happiness and lilting cadence of it. I closed my 
 eyes again to listen. I thought it very sweet and 
 wondered languidly who was the singer. 
 
 As I wondered my mind harked back, with mem- 
 ory struggling for some solid event to lay hold 
 upon, but for a long time all mental effort was 
 blocked by a solid wall of nightmare. I had 
 dreamed and dreamed badly, that I knew. Titanic, 
 murderous struggles swayed and leaped before me, 
 
 331
 
 332 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 furious and futile combats, shadowy, unending, use- 
 less give and take of blows, chasms of darkness or 
 panels of brilliant light, striped and tortured with 
 bars, reached infinitely before my mental vision, 
 and through it all like a wicked undercurrent ran 
 the rhythmic jogging and the regular iron-shod 
 hoof-beats of a horse, the jolt and jar of a broken- 
 springed carriage with the poignant throb of ex- 
 quisite pain. But with the memory of that pain 
 came the faint, indescribable scent of lavender, and 
 fainter still, the sweet fragrance of orange blossoms, 
 the touch of a soft arm about me, and beneath my 
 cheek a warm resting place of satin. I drew a long 
 breath and opened my eyes; for memory had re- 
 turned to me. 
 
 " Nancy ! " I cried out, and tried weakly to sit 
 up in bed. 
 
 The shout which I had intended sounded weak 
 and faint, but she heard it ; for the singing abruptly 
 stopped, and I turned my head slowly to find her 
 by the bedside. She put her hand to my face and 
 gently stooped and kissed me, and as she did so, a 
 tear fell on my cheek. 
 
 " What is it ? " I whispered anxiously ; " what is 
 it?" 
 
 " Nothing, dear," she said, " only gladness, glad- 
 ness to find you so." 
 
 "I am all right," I answered. "I remember 
 everything perfectly now, Nancy. At least, I
 
 HOME 
 
 333 
 
 think " and broke off, obsessed by a sudden 
 fear. 
 
 " What is it? " said Nancy gently. 
 
 " We were married yesterday, weren't we ? " I 
 asked. " We really were married, and everything 
 is all right? I know we were. I remember all 
 about it." 
 
 Nancy kissed me again. 
 
 " Certainly we were," she said; " beautifully mar- 
 ried, but I do not think you should talk any more." 
 
 " Certainly I can talk," I said. " I remember it 
 all now. He shot me, didn't he? That's why I 
 feel a little weak this morning, but I'm feeling quite 
 strong again now, and I want to talk." And, in- 
 deed, with Nancy close beside me, my fallen strength 
 seemed to come surging back over me again like a 
 wave. 
 
 " I don't think you should," Nancy said doubt- 
 fully. " I think you ought to try to go to sleep." 
 
 "Sleep?" I repeated; "why, I've slept all night 
 and had bad dreams. I certainly do not want to 
 sleep any more. I want you to tell me about it. 
 Did he go away?" 
 
 She bowed, I suppose, to the inevitable. 
 
 " Yes, dear," she said quietly ; " he got away. 
 He thought he'd killed you, I think, and was fright- 
 ened at what he had done; for he turned and ran 
 before anybody else came up." 
 
 " Well, how did I get here? " I asked.
 
 334 
 
 " People came," Nancy said, " and I sent some one 
 for a carriage." 
 
 "Yes, I remember," I replied; " an awful, jolting 
 carriage, and you held me, Nancy; held me all the 
 way home. Are you not tired to-day? " 
 
 Nancy smiled. " It was not yesterday, Mason," 
 she said. " You've been very sick and have had a 
 fever." 
 
 " Oh," I replied blankly. Then at last, " How 
 long ago was it? Don't be afraid to tell me. I 
 want to know." 
 
 " It was nine days ago, Mason." 
 
 I lay and pondered upon this for a while. Once 
 I tried to raise my hand to take Nancy's, but I could 
 not do it, and she stopped me with a gesture. 
 
 " No," said Nancy, " you are to keep very quiet. 
 The doctor was insistent on that." 
 
 " What does he know about it ? " I asked fret- 
 fully. " Little country doctors are always fussy." 
 
 " But he isn't a little country doctor," said Nancy. 
 " He's one of the greatest surgeons in America. 
 That attack on you got into the papers, Mason, and 
 the next morning some friend of yours, signing him- 
 self 'Ogilby,' telegraphed from New York that he 
 was sending a surgeon down, and in the afternoon 
 the surgeon came. I do want to tell you some- 
 thing so, only I promised not to until he has seen 
 you again." 
 
 " All I want you to tell me is that you love me.
 
 HOME 335 
 
 You must keep telling me that, Nancy, if you ex- 
 pect me to get well quickly." 
 
 Nancy laughed happily, and told me in a very ef- 
 fective way. 
 
 " It seems hardly right," I said, " to be so abso- 
 lutely happy. Oh, I know it is right, the rightest 
 thing in life, but I can't help being sorry for the 
 rest of the world. I wonder," I asked, stirred by 
 a sudden uneasy thought, " what has happened to 
 all those poor people we left behind us in the san- 
 atorium." 
 
 " You got a letter about them," said Nancy. " I 
 saw the postmark, and opened it, because I thought 
 you would want me to. It was from Doctor May- 
 hew, and he says he has kept his promise to you and 
 broken up the place. It was written on steamer 
 paper, and came back by the pilot boat. Mrs. La- 
 throp has come over here four or five times to 
 inquire about you, and I read it to her." Nancy 
 laughed. " She hopes that he has eloped with Mrs. 
 Olsen. She said it would serve them both right. 
 And now, Mason, you mustn't talk any more, and 
 I must wet your bandages." 
 
 I lay quietly while she flitted in and out of the 
 room, a lovely little vision, seriously bent on her 
 ministrations. She did not touch the bandage at 
 my shoulder, but moistened those about my hands 
 with something delightfully cool and refreshing. 
 
 Just as she was finishing her work I heard the
 
 336 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 drumming of an approaching motor-car, and lay 
 contentedly listening to it, thinking of that last 
 strange ride we had taken together. It did not even 
 stir my surprise that the car apparently came to a 
 stop before our gate ; but Nancy left the room, and 
 I heard her going to the front door. Presently 
 there came a subdued sound of men's voices in the 
 hall below. Then steps sounded on the stairs, and 
 a big, fresh-faced, young fellow came into the room, 
 followed by a figure in dust-coat and motor goggles, 
 with his cap still pulled down firmly on his head. 
 Last of all came Nancy. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Ogilby ! " I said, forgetting in my 
 surprise his wish to remain unknown. 
 
 " I felt the need of an outing," said Mr. Ogilby, 
 " and I wanted to see with my own eyes how you 
 were getting on, so I brought the doctor down in 
 my car. I found motoring so pleasant when I made 
 the trip to Winford that as soon as I got back to 
 the city I bought a car of my own." 
 
 Nancy changed color a little, and stood with her 
 hands clasped at her breast, a gesture which I al- 
 ready knew meant that she was troubled or puzzled. 
 But the doctor had come to my bedside, and already 
 was taking the wet bandages from my hands. 
 
 " Glad to see you so well this morning," he said, 
 briefly. " This is fine, this is fine. Mrs. Ellsworth, 
 I would like to give you some further directions 
 about the case." He rapidly replaced the bandages;
 
 HOME '337 
 
 and with a smile over her shoulder at me, Nancy left 
 the room with him. 
 
 Mr. Ogilby drew up a chair beside the bed, and 
 divesting himself of duster, cap and glasses, sat 
 down beside me. 
 
 " Well," he said, " you did have a beautiful time, 
 and wounded, scalded and all, I envy you. You 
 must tell me all about it some day ; for I am closely 
 interested, and, as I told you before, adventures at 
 my time of life must of necessity be for the most 
 part vicarious. It may interest you to know, 
 though, that I have given up my tenement room; 
 even there I found my seclusion almost too monastic. 
 It is right after all that a man should take his place 
 in the world and now, thanks to you, I am able to 
 take it." 
 
 " To me ? " I asked, in some surprise, with the 
 recurrent doubt if he were, after all, perfectly right 
 in his mind. 
 
 "Yes, to you," said Mr. Ogilby. "Well, my 
 dear, I am glad that everything is going so well 
 with you." 
 
 This last to Nancy ; for she had come back alone 
 into the room, and now stood gazing wide-eyed at 
 the little man who had risen to greet her. 
 
 " You you " she faltered, " you are " 
 
 " Quite so, my dear," said Mr. Ogilby. " Aren't 
 you going to kiss me? " 
 
 To my utter surprise Nancy gave a little inar-
 
 338 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 ticulate cry, and flew into the arms outstretched to 
 welcome her; where he held her fast, kissing her 
 heartily and giving her little, affectionate pats as 
 she sobbed happily upon his shoulder. Presently 
 Nancy raised her head. 
 
 " Does Mason know ? " she asked doubtfully, as 
 if she herself was hardly sure. Then quietly, " Oh, 
 we must be careful of him, for he isn't strong yet." 
 
 "No; Mason doesn't know," Mr. Ogilby 
 chuckled, turning to me, but still keeping tight hold 
 of Nancy's hand, " but I don't think it will hurt 
 him to know. Your memory is not so good as mine, 
 young man. Do you, by any chance, remember a 
 fine, middle-aged gentleman who sat next you on 
 a bench in Washington Square, a gentleman who, 
 I am ashamed to say, may have been dozing a 
 little?" 
 
 " Yes," I said ; " I knew I had seen you some- 
 where before; and you gave me a paper, the paper 
 by which I first found Nancy." 
 
 " Quite so," said Mr. Ogilby dryly ; " but I did 
 not know about that ' Personal ' notice then, even 
 though that Lexington Avenue stable was my own. 
 I had been reading another piece of news which was 
 really very interesting. It was my own obituary. 
 You may possibly have noticed it, ' Jared Bond, 
 dead after five years of mild insanity.' The notice 
 omitted to state that I had a daughter Nancy." 
 
 " A daughter ! " I gasped.
 
 HOME 339 
 
 " Yes, my son," the old gentleman said compla- 
 cently. " I think you will find me a very compan- 
 ionable father-in-law." 
 
 " But how " Nancy and I commenced in a 
 breath. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Bond, sitting down again and 
 drawing Nancy to his lap, " I have been bursting 
 with it so long that I am going to tell you about it, 
 doctor or no doctor. I am going on the natural 
 assumption that you are pleased; and joy, they say, 
 never hurt anybody." He chuckled again. " The 
 mistake I made was in ever letting Ephraim into 
 the house. Ephraim has always been rather un- 
 principled, but he was my own brother, and he was 
 poor, while I had plenty of money ; so that I thought 
 it only right to do something for him. I am afraid, 
 in those days, that I was a little weak-natured ; for 
 gradually Ephraim began to have too much say in 
 the conduct of my affairs, and then came a bad at- 
 tack of grippe. When that was over I found myself 
 a prisoner in my own room. My brother pre- 
 tended, even before me, to think me mentally un- 
 balanced; and there I stayed for five years, signing 
 checks, and eating my heart out. I don't want to 
 talk about that part of it; it makes me shudder to 
 think of it. If I made any protest Ephraim kept 
 me quiet with threats of what he would do to 
 Nancy. 
 
 " I might have been there yet, for all I know,
 
 340 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 if it hadn't been for that rascally son of his. Un- 
 der one of Ephraim's threats I signed a paper which 
 I have since thought was my will, and, for a time, 
 I lived in mortal terror lest my brother should make 
 away with me altogether. Then, by great good 
 fortune, he was called away for a day or so, and 
 his son, who was always hard up, came in to see 
 me. 
 
 " Erskine needed a good deal of money, and he 
 needed it right away; so that I was able to make 
 terms with him. He had come prepared, with a 
 fountain-pen and a check-book, but this was my 
 opportunity, and for once I stood fast, deaf to any 
 threat that he might make. I agreed to let him 
 have twice the amount he wanted on one condition, 
 and one condition only. My condition, naturally, 
 was my freedom. He was afraid to do it at first, 
 sorely as he needed the money, but desperation and 
 his natural criminal bent finally suggested a way 
 that was satisfactory and fairly safe for both of us. 
 
 " He had at one time half completed a course in 
 some medical college and still retained one or two 
 friends among the more unscrupulous members of 
 his class. Through one of them he obtained a body, 
 and with it a certificate that I had died of an infec- 
 tious disease; so that I was out of the house, and my 
 funeral over, before his father's return. It was a 
 beautiful plan ; for it left me free to go where I liked 
 as long as I kept the secret of my identity, and I
 
 HOME 341 
 
 think that until my brother went to the bank the 
 other day with his papers as executor, and found that 
 I, in the flesh, had withdrawn all my funds, he never 
 suspected anything. I hadn't been dead much more 
 than a week when I met you in that cafe, Mason, 
 and took you up to my rooms, where you gave me 
 news of Nancy. You almost killed me with it, but 
 I think I managed to hide it. As it all turned out, 
 my dear," he said to Nancy, " I could not be better 
 pleased, but I shall never get over being ashamed 
 of myself. I ought of course to have got you 
 right away from my brother, but I could think of 
 no harm that could come to you, and I put it off 
 a little. It was a dreadful and cowardly thing to 
 do. 
 
 " I don't know whether you can understand it, 
 child, but I hope you can. It is many years since 
 I have been a man of action, and I am afraid my 
 moral courage suffered sadly. Long years of ab- 
 solute confinement made me timid as well as weak. 
 I was free, free at last in the great, wide world, 
 and I dared not face Ephraim. I planned in a little 
 while to take legal steps, which should secure free- 
 dom for us both, but at the very first I didn't 
 dare. I had been told I was insane for so long, 
 that I had come, myself, to mistrust my mental bal- 
 ance. What, I thought, if it were really true, and 
 they were able to lock me up again? It takes some 
 little time for a man to get back his courage. I
 
 342 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 spent my first week of freedom buying everything 
 I saw in the shops. It was childish of me, but I 
 had so often thought of doing it. Everything you 
 saw in that room, Mason, was brand new. I had 
 a revel of buying." 
 
 He gave Nancy a great hug and chuckled. 
 
 " But the beautiful part of it was the suggestion 
 of the whole affair. Erskine had seen how easy 
 it was to shut some one up and say that he was 
 insane. I am sorry it suggested his way of kid- 
 napping you, daughter dear; but you have found a 
 greater love and happiness through it and it has 
 all come out all right. You and Mason will be the 
 closer for it all your lives. But the joke of it all, 
 the beautiful joke of it all, is that he tried it suc- 
 cessfully on his own father; that he gave him a 
 taste of what I suffered so many years. I could 
 almost forgive him his other misdeeds for that." 
 
 "But where are they now, father and son?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Well," said Jared Bond, " I had proof of their 
 rascality, evidence enough to send them both to 
 jail, some of which you gave me, Mason, so that, as 
 soon as I got back to New York, I put detectives on 
 them. In spite of their quarrel their mutual 
 apprehension drew them together. My brother 
 Ephraim, although he waited for my death for the 
 bulk of my money, has, nevertheless, in the last five 
 years amassed quite a tidy fortune; and three days
 
 HOME 343 
 
 ago he and his precious son set sail for parts un- 
 known where, I think, they will have the sense to 
 remain." 
 
 " I wonder if they took the boat with Doctor 
 Mayhew," I said. 
 
 " I hope so," said Nancy's father ; " my brother 
 would be so pleased to make the unprofessional ac- 
 quaintance of his jailer." 
 
 " I think," said the doctor, appearing in the door- 
 way, " that Mr. Ellsworth has talked quite enough, 
 and that you and I, Mr. Bond, had better be on 
 our way back to the city; particularly as Mrs. Ells- 
 worth has some news for her husband, which I think 
 it only fair she should have the pleasure of telling 
 him in private." 
 
 " And it's really so ? " said Mr. Bond, getting to 
 his feet. 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor, " I think we may safely 
 say it is so." 
 
 Mr. Bond turned at the doorway. " I'm selling 
 the old house," he said, " and getting another much 
 more cheerful, and with a pipe organ in it and the 
 best private aviary in America. Nobody's asked 
 me for my blessing yet, but you have it, my children. 
 I am coming back again to-morrow or the next day. 
 When Mason is strong enough I want to have a 
 business talk with him. Good-by, Nancy, my dear. 
 You have the best thing in the world, love and a 
 good husband."
 
 344 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 As her father talked, Nancy had sat as I have seen 
 children sit at a festival, supremely happy, but half 
 dazed by the very complexness and multiplicity of 
 their happiness; for this father of hers, now alive 
 and well, even vivaciously humorous, had been for 
 years only a memory to her, a memory and sorrow- 
 ing anxiety. To have him so suddenly restored, to 
 have the remembered dear one given back, not as 
 she had been taught to think of him, but as she 
 recollected him and had last seen him, seemed a 
 miracle scarcely credible. From time to time her 
 fingers would touch him softly with a little familiar 
 caressing gesture I had come already to recognize, 
 a gesture full of tenderness, as if she reached out to 
 assure herself of the tangible reality of the loved 
 one. Held close to his breast she studied with en- 
 raptured eyes the kind, old face so long held remi- 
 niscently dear, turning them only at last that they 
 might seek out mine, and share with me this 
 new-found, half-incredible, overwhelming joy. 
 Strangely enough she let him go almost in silence, 
 as if by old custom there was no need of spoken 
 words between them. 
 
 When he had gone she stood looking down at me, 
 and together we listened until the drone of the 
 automobile died away in the distance; then, quite 
 simply, Nancy turned, and coming over to the bed, 
 knelt on the floor beside me.
 
 HOME 345 
 
 " I think," she said, " no one has ever been as 
 happy as I am. It was happiness enough to have 
 you, Mason, but now I am so glad for you ; for I 
 know how foolishly it has troubled you. You 
 know, dear heart, that when he shot you, your hands 
 were frightfully scalded. When the surgeon came 
 he said that there would have to be an operation, 
 that, if you were to get well, little bits of healthy 
 skin must be planted on the burned surface. Mrs. 
 Lathrop and I both offered ours, and I thought it 
 would be so sweet to be able to help you a little that 
 way. But the doctor would have none of it. He 
 said that, as you had a fever, the grafting would 
 be a very difficult process, and that the only sure 
 way of success was to take little pieces from various 
 parts of your own body. And he did it, Mason, 
 oh, the thinnest pieces in the world ; so that it did 
 not seem to me as if it could possibly do any good. 
 But it did, Mason ; your hands are half well already, 
 and a miracle has happened. The doctor wants to 
 write a paper about it. They may, perhaps, be a 
 little scarred, but your hands, dear love, are going 
 to be as you would want them, as white as other 
 men's." 
 
 A little sturdy breeze was rustling the branches 
 outside the window. It rattled at the shutters and 
 then gleefully tore one of them open, letting into 
 the room a flood of the late May morning sunshine,
 
 346 THE MAN IN THE BROWN DERBY 
 
 that shone in glory on Nancy's bent head, lighting 
 her tear-bright eyes like summer heavens. In spite 
 of her half- fearful protest, I raised my bandaged 
 hands and drew her close, until her lips touched 
 mine. 
 
 THE END
 
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