ROPE ' ROPE OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELES ROPE BY HOL WORTHY HALL Author of "THE MAN NOBODY KNEW," etc. NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1922 COPTBIGHT, 1922, BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. PRINTED IN U. 8. A. VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY BINOHAMTON AND HEW YORK ROPE 2130458 ROPE CHAPTER I AS Henry came blithely into the house with a heavy suit-case in one hand and a cumbersome kit-bag in the other, his Aunt Mirabelle marched out like a grenadier from the living-room, and posted herself in the hall- way to watch him approach. There was this much to say for Aunt Mirabelle: she was at least consistent, and for twenty years she had worn the same expression whenever she looked at him. During that period the rest of the world and Henry had altered, developed, ad- vanced but not Aunt Mirabelle. She had changed neither the style of her clothes nor the nature of her convictions ; she had disapproved of Henry when he was six, and therefore, she disapproved of him today. To let him know it, she regarded him precisely as though he 2 EOPE were still six, and had forgotten to wash his face. "I suppose," remarked Aunt Mirabelle, in her most abrasive voice, "I suppose you're waiting for me to say I hope you had a good time. Well, I'm not a-going to say it, because it wouldn't be true, and I wouldn't want to have it sitting on my conscience. Of course, some people haven't got much of any conscience for anything to sit on, anyway. If they did, tney'd be earnest, useful citizens. If they did, then once in a while they'd think about something else besides loud ties and silk socks and golf. And they wouldn't be gallivanting off on house- parties for a week at a time, either; they'd be tending to their business if they had any. And if they hqj^t, they ought to." Henry put down the bag and the suit-case, removed his straw hat, and grinned, with a fair imitation of cheerfulness. He had never learned how to handle Aunt Mirabelle, and small wonder; for if he listened in silence, he was called sulky; if he disputed her, he was called flippant; if he agreed with her, she ac- cused him of fraud ; and if he obeyed his natural EOPE 3 instincts, and treated her with tolerant good- humour, she usually went on a conversation strike, and never weakened until after the twelfth apology. Whatever he did was wrong, so that purely on speculation, he grinned, and said what came to his tongue. "Maybe so," said Henry, "maybe so, but conscience is a plant of slow growth," and im- mediately after he had said this, he wished that he had chosen a different epigram something which wasn't so liable to come back at him, later, like a boomerang. "Humph!" said Aunt Mirabelle. "It is, is it? Well, if I was in your place, I'd be impa- tient for it to grow faster." Henry shook his head. "No, I don't believe you would. I've read som^here that impa- ^^ tience dries the blood more than age or sor- row." He assumed an air of critical satisfac- tion. "The bird that v.rote that had pretty good technique, don't you think?" She shrugged her shoulders. "All right, Henry. Be pert. But I know what made you so almighty anxious to sneak off on this house- party; and I know whose account it was you 4 EOPE went on, too, and I don 't see for the life of me why your uncle hasn't put his foot down." She sighed, as though in deep mourning. "I did hope you'd grow up different from these other boys, Henry, but you're all of you just alike. When you get old enough, do you pick out some pure, innocent, sensible, young woman that's been trained the way girls were trained in my day? No. You go and make fools of yourselves over these short-skirted little hus- sies all powdered up like a box of marshmal- lows. And as long as they're spry enough and immodest enough to do all these new bunny dances and what not, you think that's a sure sign they'll make good wives and mothers. Humph. Makes me sick/' In spite of himself, Henry lost his artificial grin, and began to turn dull red. "I wouldn't go quite so far as to say that." ^ "Well," retorted Aunt Mirabelle, "I didn't hardly expect you would. But you'll go far enough to see one of 'em, I notice. . . . Well, your uncle's home this afternoon; long's he's paying your bills, you might have the grace to go in and say howdy-you-do to him." She EOPE 5 marched upstairs, and Henry, revolving his hat in his hand, gazed after her until she was out of sight. He stood, irresolute, until the echo of her common-sense shoes died into silence; and as he lingered, he was struck for the ten thousandth time by the amazing mystery of the human family. First, there was his mother, a small and ex- quisite woman with music in her heart and in the tips of her fingers ; his memory of her was dim, but he knew that she had been the maddest and the merriest of all possible mothers a creature of joy and sunshine and the sheer happiness of existence. And then her sister Mirabelle, who found life such a serious condi- tion to be in, and loved nothing about it, save the task of reforming it for other people whether the other people liked it or not. And finally, her brother John, bald, fat, and good- natured; a man whose personal interests were bounded by his own physical comfort, and by his desire to see everyone else equally comfort- able. Whenever Henry thought of this trio, he reflected that his grandparents must have been very versatile. 6 ROPE He drew a long breath, and glanced up the stairway, as though the spirit of his Aunt Mirabelle were still haunting him; then, with a depressing recollection of what she had said about his conscience, and with hot resentment at what she said about his taste, he walked slowly into the library. His uncle John Starkweather, who had been writing at a big desk between the windows, sprang up to shake hands with him. " Hello, boy! Thought Bob Standish must have kid- napped you. Have a good party f " ' ' Fine, thanks, ' ' said Henry, but his tone was so subdued and joyless that his uncle stared at him for a moment, and then went over to close the door. Standing with his back to it, Mr. Starkweather smiled reminiscently and a trifle ruefully, and began to peel the band from a cigar. " What's the matter? Mirabelle say anything to you?" ' ' Why nothing special. ' y His uncle hesitated. "In a good many ways/' he said, lowering his voice, "Mirabelle puts me in mind of my father. When he was a boy, out in the country, he'd had to smash the EOPE 7 ice in the water-pitcher every mornin', and he was proud of it thought a boy that hadn't earned some of his godliness with an ice-pick was a dude. Thought what was good enough for his father was good enough for him, and sometimes it was too good. Didn't believe in modern improvements like telephones and easy chairs and three-tined forks ; didn't believe in labour-savin' devices because labour wasn't meant to be saved. Bible says for us to work six days a week, and if he ever had any spare time before Sat 'day night, he figured he must have forgot somethin'. Business- well, he called advertisin' a rich man's luxury, and said an audit was an insult to his partners. Said he'd welcome a sheriff sooner 'n he would an expert accountant and in the long run, that's exactly what he did. Involuntary bank- ruptcy found his sanctimonious old cashier M been sanctimoniously lootin' the till for eighteen years." He paused, and eyed his cigar. "Well, Mirabelle's cut more or less off the same piece. Lord, I wish she could go through some kind of bankruptcy, if 't would shake her up like it did father." 8 EOPE "It shook him up, did it?" inquired Henry, fidgetting. "Well," said his uncle, "after the crash, I don't recollect he ever mentioned the good old times again except once ; and that was to praise the good old habit of takin' defaulters and boilin ' 'em in oil. No, sir, he wouldn 't so much as add two and two together without an addin' machine, and he used to make an inventory of his shirts and winter flannels pretty near every week. And Mirabelle's the same way; she's still tryin' to live under the 1874 rules." He came back to his desk, and sat down thought- fully. "Well, she's been talkin' to me ever since you went off on this party and as far's most of it's concerned, I'm not on her side, and I'm not on your side; I'm sort of betwixt and between." He looked sidewise at Henry, and discovered that Henry was peering off into space, and smiling as though he saw a vision in the clouds. "Just as man to man, just for the information ; suppose you passed up everything I've said to you, and went and got married one of these days did you expect I'd go on sup- portin' you?" EOPE 9 Henry came down to earth, and his expres- sion showed that he had landed heavily. 1 1 Why what was that I ' ' His uncle repeated it, with a postscript. * * Oh, I Ve always told you you could have any- thing you wanted within reason that I could pay for. But from what I been told" his eyes twinkled "wives ain't always reasonable. And it does seem to me that when a young man gets to be twenty five or six, and never did a lick of work in his life, and loafs around clubs and plays polo just because he's got a rich uncle, why, it's a sort of a reflection on both of 'em. Seem so to you?" Henry glanced up nervously and down again. * ' To tell the truth, I hadn 't thought much about it." "Say," said his uncle, confidentially. "Neither had I. Not 'till Mirabelle told me you went off on this party because Anna Bar- klay was goin' to be there. . . . Now I had pretty hard sleddin' when I was your age; I've kind of liked to see you enjoy yourself. But Mirabelle Now I said before, I ain't on her side, and I ain't on your side; I had the thing 10 ROPE out with you once or twice -already, and I guess you know what my angles are. Only if Mira- belle 's got any grounds, maybe I ought to say it over again. . . . You been out of college four years now, and you tried the automobile business for two months and the bond business for two- weeks and the real-estate business for two minutes, and there you quit. You spent five, six thousand a year and that was all right, but I admit I don't like the idea of your gettin' married on no thin' but prospects, specially when I'm all the prospects there is. Sound fair to you?" Henry nodded, with much repression, "You couldn't be unfair if you tried, Uncle John." "Well, you was always open to reason, even when you was in kindergarten. . . . Now, in some ways I don't approve of you any more'n Mirabelle does, but she wants me to go too blamed far. She wants me to turn you loose the way my father did me. She wants me to say if you should ever marry without my con- sent I'll cut you out of my will. But that's old stuff. That's cold turkey. Mirabelle don't E P E 11 know times have changed she's so busy with that cussed Reform League of hers, she don't have time to reform any of her own slants about things." He rolled his cigar under his tongue. "Well, I'm goin' to compromise. Before you get involved too deep, I want you to know what 's in my mind. I don 't believe it 's the best thing for either of us for me to go on bein' a kind of an evergreen money-bush. And a man that's earnin' his own livin' don't have to ask odds of anybody. Don't you think you better bundle up your courage and get to work, Henry I" Henry was twiddling his watch-chain. "It hasn't been a matter of courage, exactly " "Oh, I know that. I don't believe you're scared of work ; you 're only sort of shy about it. I never saw you really afraid of more'n three things bein' a spoil-sport, or out of style, or havin* -a waiter think you're stingy. No, you ain't afraid of work, but you never been properly introduced, so you're kind of stand- offish about it. I've always kind of hoped you'd take a tip from Bob Standish there's 12 ROPE one of your own breed that knows where the durable satisfactions of life are. Just as good family 's yours.; just as much money; just as fond of games; and workin' like a prize pup in my office and makin' good. He'll tell you. . . . But if you go get married, boy, be- 'fore you show you could take care of yourself, and what money I might leave you oh, I don 't say you got to put over any miracle, but I do say you got to learn the value of money first. You'd do that by earnin' some. If you don't, then you and me'd have a quarrel. Sound logical to you?'* Henry was frowning a little, and sitting nearer to the edge of his chair. "Too darned logical/' he said. His uncle surveyed him with great indul- gence. " What's the idea?" he asked, hu- mourously. "You ain't gone off and got your- self married already, have you?" Henry stood up, and squared his shoulders, and looked straight into his uncle's eyes. His voice was strained, but at the same time it held a faint note of relief, as if he had contained his E P E 13 secret too long for his own nerves. "Yes, Uncle John. ..." And waited, as before the Court of last appeal. CHAPTER II THE older man sat limp in his chair, and stared until the ash of his cigar tumbled, untidily, over his waistcoat. He brushed at it with uncertain, ineffective motions, but his eyes never left his nephew. He put the cigar once more to his lips, shuddered, and flung it away. "Boy " he said, at length, "Boy is that true?" Henry cleared his throat. "Yes, Uncle John." ' ' Who is it I Anna Barklay ? ' ' "Yes, Uncle John." "When?" ' l Yesterday afternoon. ' ' "Does Judge Barklay know it yet?" "No, not yet. He's out of town." His uncle drew a tremendous breath, and pulled himself upright. "Boy," he said, "why in the hell did you ever go and do a thing like that? . . . Haven't I been pretty decent to you, 14 ROPE 15 the best I knew how? . . . Why'd you ever go, and have I been mistaken in you all this while? Why, boy, I thought you and me were friends." There was another heavy silence. "I don't know. It just happened. The way things do sometimes. We've always been crazy about each other." Mr. Starkweather was looking at and through his nephew, who was man-grown and pre- sumably a rational human being; but what Mr. Starkweather actually saw was the vision of a little boy dressed in Lord Fauntleroy velvet, with silver knee-buckles and a lace collar; and much as a drowning man is supposed to review, in a lightning flash, every incident of his whole life, so was Mr. Starkweather reviewing the life of Henry, beginning with the era of black velvet, and ending with the immediate present. That history was a continuous record of dash- ing impulses, and the gayest irresponsibility; and yet, when the time came for an accounting, Henry had offered only explanations, and never excuses. In his glorious pursuit of the calendar, he had paid his penalties as royally as he had earned them; and even now, when he 16 ROPE was confessed of the most impetuous and the most astounding act of all his unballasted youth, he had nothing to say in defence. As a climax, marriage had " happened" to him, and he was braced for whatever might happen next. Presently, Mr. Starkweather, coming out of his daze, began to wonder if, by this very climax, Henry hadn't prescribed his own medicine, and at the same time taken out insur- ance on his own salvation. For one thing, he had selected the right girl a girl with no money, and plenty of character a girl who would manage him so skilfully that Henry would think himself the manager. For another thing, Mr. Starkweather believed that Henry was profoundly in love with her, even though he tried to conceal his seriousness by spreading it with a generous helping of light manner, and modern vocabulary. These facts, together with Mr. Starkweather's control of the finances, might possibly operate as the twin levers which would pry Henry out of his improvidence. The levers themselves were certainly strong enough; it was a question only of Henry's re- sistance. Mr. Starkweather winced to realize EOPE 17 that by the time the minute-hand of his watch had gone twice again around the dial, he should know definitely and permanently whether Henry was worth his powder, or not. He leaned his elbows on his desk, judicially. "I'm pretty much knocked edgeways, Henry but tell me one more thing; this wasn't any bet, was it, or " "Bet!" flared Henry, and all the youth went out of his features. "Yes. Nobody dared you to go and get mar- ried it wasn't any kind of a put-up job, was it?" The younger man was righteously indignant. "Uncle John, I admit I haven't won any medals for for some things, and maybe you think I am the kind of bird that would do this on a bet, or a dare and if you do think that I guess we're both mistaken in each other!" His uncle's hand went up. "Hold your horses! You've answered the question. If you hadn't got mad, I'd have thrown you out the window. Why did you do it, then ? ... No never mind." He looked away. "7 know. Spring, and impulse and no emergency brakes. 18 E P E / know. . . ." He looked back at Henry, and smiled oddly. "And I was just goin' to tell you, before you sprung it on me, that if you cared two cents about that girl, and me, too, you'd want to deserve her do somethin' be- sides be a model to hang expensive clothes on." "Yes,' 1 said Henry, also judicial. "I guess I'm entitled to that wallop." His uncle nodded. "That one and quite a few more. Still, you never heard anybody ac- cuse me of not bein' a good sport, did you?" "No, Uncle John. I counted on it." "Who knows this besides us?" "Just Bob Standish. "We took him along for a witness." "So! Bob Standish! Hm. I 'd have thought Bob'd had sense enough to try to stop it. I'll have words with him," "He did try." Mr. Starkweather rose. "Where's Anna?" 1 'Out in the car. With Bob. ' ' His uncle froze. "Out there? Waitin' there all this time? For Heaven's sake, Henry, she '11 be in a conniption fit ! You go bring her in here and tell her to stop worryin'. I'm ROPE 19 sore as the devil, and I'm goin' to make an ex- ample out of you, but that ain't any reason to act like a grouch, is it? Sound sensible to you? Bring her in here. Not Bob I'll see him afterwards. J ' She was small and intensely feminine, but there was nothing fragile about her, and no slightest hint of helplessness. She was pretty enough, too, and her attractions were more than skin-deep ; to the qualities which showed in her eyes sincerity and humour and imagination there was also to be added sweetness of dis- position and sensitiveness, which were proved by the curves of her mouth; and finally, there was quiet determination, stopping just short of stubbornness, which was evident in the mould- ing of her strong little chin. She came in slowly, questioningly, not in fear, but merely poised so as to adjust herself to any style of reception. Mr. Starkweather met her eyes and laughed a fat, spontaneous, under- standing laugh and blushing furiously, she 20 E P E ran to him, with both her hands outstretched. "Well, my dear," said Mr. Starkweather, and interrupted himself long enough to kiss her, "I'll say Henry's got a darned sight better judgment 'n you have. ... Go on and blush. Make a good job of it. Ashamed of yourself? So'm I. Sit down there and cringe. You too, Henry." He himself remained on his feet. "Funny thing," he said, after a pause. "Only chance I ever had to get married myself was somethin ' like this is oh, I wasn r t a gilt loafer, like Henry is; I was workin' sixteen hours a day, but I wasn't makin' money enough. Both our fathers said so. And she'd have run off, but I wouldn't. Thought it wasn't respectable, I guess. Anyhow, it kind of petered out, and I lost my nerve. Wish to thunder I'd taken a chance when I had it. Worth it, sometimes." He whirled on Henry, abruptly. "Well, you took your chance. Now let's see if you think it's worth it. If you're figurin' on any help from me, you got to work for it first. If you 'd waited, I'd kind of made things easy for you. Now, I'm goin' to hand you the meanest job I can think of. It won't be an insult and it won't E P E 21 be a joke, but maybe you'll take it for both until you learn better. ' ' "What is it, Uncle John?" "I'll tell you when you get back from your honeymoon. ' ' The two young people stared at each other, and at Mr. Starkweather. "From our what?" asked the girl, incredulously. "Honeymoon. Oh, you made a couple of prize fools of yourselves, and if I did what I ought to, I'd cut Henry off sharp this minute. But guess I better make a fool of myself, so you'll feel more at home." He coughed ex- plosively. "Besides, you're awful young, both of you and damn it, if you don't cash in on it now, next thing you know you'll be wonderin' where the time's gone, anyway. No sense in robbin' you of the best months of your life, just because you hadn't sense enough to rob your- selves of it is there? Oh, I suppose I'm a kind of a sentimental cuss, but must be I like the feelin' of it." He jerked his head toward Henry. "This is April. Take her off some- where Italy? South of France ? 'till next August. Then you report back here, all fixed 22 ROPE and ready to at crow. Sound fair to you?" The girl rose, and crossed the room to him. "Mr. Starkweather " "Name's Uncle John," he corrected. "You married it. ' ' "Uncle John I I don't know how to " She bit her lip, and he saw the depths of her eyes, and saw that they were filling with tears. She gestured imperatively to Henry. "You know him better you tell him. ' ' Henry had sprung across to join them. "Un- cle John, you're a peach! I'll break rock on the streets if you say so! You're a peach!" "Well," said Mr. Starkweather, uncomfor- tably. "If everybody else's goin' to bawl, I guess it'll have to be contagious. . . . Only when you get back, you're both goin' to pay the piper. I'm goin' to make Henry earn his salt, whether he's got it in him or not; I'm goin' to make him crawl. That goes as it stands, too; no foolin'. . . . Look here, don't you want me to break it to the Judge? Guess I better. I can put it up to him in writin' twice as good as Henry put it up to me by talkin', anyhow. . . . And I'll put an announcement in the ROPE 23 Herald that'll take the cuss off. Anna, you hustle up some engraved notices to get around to all our friends. You know what's in style. . . . Oh, you're a couple of champion idiots, and Henry's goin' to sweat for it when he comes home, but God bless you, my boy, and you too, my dear only how in blazes am I goin' to get it across to Mirabelle? That's what bites me the worst, Henry; that's what bites me the worst!" CHAPTER III IN a small office on the third floor of the City Bank Building Mr. Theodore Mix, broker and amateur politician, sat moodily intent upon Ids morning newspaper. For thirty years (he was fifty-five) Mr. Mix had been a prominent and a mildly influential citizen, and by great ef- fort he had managed to keep himself excessively overrated. A few years ago he had even been mentioned as a candidate for Mayor, and the ambition was still alive within him, although fulfilment was never so distant. But despite his appearance, which was dignified, and des- pite his manner, which would have done for the diplomatic corps, and despite his con- nection with local charities and churches and civic committees, Mr. Mix was secretly a bit of a bounder; and although the past decade or two he had made a handsome income, he had contrived to get rid of it as fast as he con- 24 ROPE 25 veniently could, and by methods which wouldn't always have stood analysis. Lately, for no apparent cause, his best cus- tomers had edged away from him ; he was glid- ing rapidly into debt, and he knew that unless he clambered out again within six or eight weeks, he should have considerable difficulty in preserving his reputation, both financial and ethical. And like all men in the same position, Mr. Mix was fiercely jealous" of his prestige; by long practice he had warped himself into thinking that it belonged to him; and he was ready to defend it with every conceivable weapon. For the moment, however, Mr. Mix was querulous rather than defensive. He was try- ing to place the blame for the past two sea- sons of misfortune, and when he observed that Pacific Eefining was twelve points up from Sat- urday's close, he sighed wearily and told him- self that it was all a matter of luck. He had had an appointment, last Saturday at nine o 'clock, with his friend John Starkweather, and he had meant to borrow something from him, if 26 ROPE possible, and to risk a few hundred shares of Pacific Refining on margin; but he had over- slept, and Mr. Starkweather had left his office at nine fifteen and hadn't come back again that day, so that the profit which might so easily have come to rest in Mr. Mix's pockets was now in other quarters. Luck! The most intangible of assets and the most unescapable of liabilities. On Satur- day, Mr. Mix had arrived too late because he had overslept because his alarm-clock had been tinkered by a watchmaker who had inherited a taste for alcohol from a parent who had been ruined by the Chicago fire and almost before he knew it, Mr. Mix had trailed the blame to Adam and Eve, and was feeling personally re- sentful. It was plain to him that his failure wasn 't in any sense his own fault. As he resumed his paper, however, his querulousness yielded to a broad sunny opti- mism, and he turned to the sporting page and hunted out the news from the Bowie track. He had a friend at Bowie, and the friend owned a horse which he swore was the darkest three- year-old in captivity; he had wired Mr. Mix to ROPE 27 hypothecate his shirt, and bet the proceeds on the fourth race, this coming Saturday. The odds would be at least 10 to 1, he said, and he could place all the money that Mr. Mix might send him. Mr. Mix leaned back and built a stable in the air. Suppose he could borrow a couple of thou- sand. Twenty thousand clear profit. Then a quick dash into the cotton-market (the price was certainly going to break wide open in another month) and the twenty would unfold, and ex- pand, and become fifty. And if a shrewd, cold- blooded man went down to Wall Street with fifty thousand dollars, and played close to his chest, he ought to double his capital in four months. To be sure, Mr. Mix had been losing steadily for a dozen years, but he was confi- dent that he had it in him to be a great and successful plunger. He felt it. Heretofore, he had been handicapped by operating on a shoestring; but with fifty thousand dollars to put his back against His stenographer announced a caller, and on the instant, Mr. Mix, put on his other per- sonality, and prepared to silver his tongue. 28 ROPE The caller, however, came straight to Mr. Mix's desk, and flipped out one sheet from a large portfolio. "Say," he remarked brusquely. "What's the matter with this bill? Ziegler and Company. Two ninety two sixty dated November. ' y Mr. Mix laughed genially, and offered a ci- gar. "Why, nothing's the matter with it. "What's the matter with Ziegler and Com- pany? Aren't they solvent?" The visitor lighted his cigar, and mellowed. "Well it ain't any of my funeral, but Ziegler he says if you don't settle by the fifteenth, he'll give it to his attorney." For the third time in a week, an attorney had been lugged into the conversation; more than that, Mr. Mix had received four letters from two different collection agencies. "In the words of the Good Book," he said sooth- ingly, "have patience and I will pay thee all." "What say? Will I come in next week some- time?" "Now, that," said Mr. Mix, with a rush of approval, "is a first-rate idea. That's first- rate. Come in next week some time. ' ' ROPE 29 "Right-o. Only Ziegler, he's pretty hard- boiled, Mr. Mix. . . . Say, why don't you gimme a check now, and save me from gettin' flat-footed? Two ninety two sixty? Why for you that's chicken-feed." "Bill hasn't been audited yet," said Mr. Mix, with all the grandeur of an industrial chieftain. * ' Come in next week. ' ' The visitor went out, and Mr. Mix scowled at the bill, threatened to tear it, and finally put it away in a drawer where it had plenty of companionship. To think that after his life- time as an important citizen generally sup- posed to be well-to-do if not actually rich he couldn't pay a trifling account of less than three hundred dollars because he didn't have three hundred dollars in the bank. Collec- tion agencies and the warning of suits and impertinence from young ruffians who were hired to dun him! He scowled more heavily, and then gave his shoulders an upward move- ment of rancour and disgust. And yet the lines receded from his forehead and yet there was always John Starkweather, and the friend at Bowie. Mr. Mix rose, and 30 E P E went out to the corridor, and down it to a door which was lettered with Mr. Stark- weather's name, followed by the inscription: Keal Estate and Insurance, Mortgage Loans. And as he entered, and remembered that thirty years ago he and John Starkweather had oc- cupied adjoining stools at the same high desk, and broken their back over the same drudgery, and at the same wage, he was filled with an emotion which made his cheeks warm. Side by side, only thirty years ago, and separated now by the Lord knew what, and the Lord knew why. Mr. Mix knew that he was brainier than John Starkweather; he admitted it. Brainier, smoother, quicker of wit, and more polished. But Starkweather's office handled the bulk of local realty transactions; it wrote more insurance than all of its competitors in a mass; it loaned almost as much money, on mortgage, as the Trust and Savings. And Mr. Mix, Broker, was on the verge of bankruptcy. Luck ! No question about it. At the swinging gate there was a girl-clerk who smiled up at him, flirtatiously. "Want to ROPE 31 see the boss T He 's busy for a coupla minutes. ' ' "All right," said Mr. Mix in an undertone. "I'll stay here and talk to you." ' ' The nerve of some folks I Think I 'm paid to listen to your line of hot air? Not 'till they double my salary. You go sit down and have a thought. Exercise 's what you need. ' ' Mr. Mix rolled his eyes heavenward. "So young, and so heartless!" he murmured, and went sedately forward to the reception room. The door of the private office was not quite closed; so that the voices of two men were faintly audible. Mr. Mix cast about him, made sure that he was unobserved, and dignifiedly changed his seat nearer that door. "Yes," said a voice which at first he couldn't recognize. "The deed's recorded. So legally, Henry owns the property now." Mr. Mix nodded triumphantly ; the voice belonged to Mr. Archer, a leading lawyer and Mr. Stark- weather's closest friend. "That's the idea." This was in Mr. Stark- weather's familiar bass. "Now how'd you fix the will!" 32 E P E "Why, it was very simple. Your point was that you didn't want everybody to know what was going on. So " "No. And if I put a lot o' conditions like that in a will, why just as soon as it was pro- bated, Henry and Mirabelle 'd both get an awful lot o' bum publicity. They'd both be sore, and I'd look like a nut. . . . Naturally, I don't plan to die off as soon as all this, but better be safe. I just want to fix it up so Henry '11 get the same deal no matter what happens. ' ' "Very wise, very wise, . . . Well, here's what I've done. I've changed the will so that the entire residuary estate is left to me in trust for your sister and nephew to be administered according to the trust-deed we're executing to- day. They can probate that until they're black in the face, but nobody's going to find out any more than we want them to." "Sounds all right so far, but don't you have to take a trust agreement like that into Court, too?" ' ' Sooner or later, yes. But you '11 notice that I've covered it so that unless Henry or Miss Starkweather says something, nobody's go- ROPE 33 ing to know until the year's out, and I make the accounting. Now for the trust agreement itself if Henry demonstrates to me that with- in a year " "A year from August first. The lease don't expire 'till then, and Henry won't be home *till then. August to August's what I'm goin' to put up to him." "Correct. If he demonstrates to me that within the calendar year he 's made a net profit of ten thousand dollars from the property by the way, isn't that rather steep?" "No. Man's in there now's made three thousand and manhandled it. Just horse-sense and some alterations and advertising '11 bring it up to ten." "You're the doctor. If Henry makes ten out of it, then he receives from me, as trustee, the whole residuary estate, otherwise it goes to your sister. And during that trial year, she gets the whole income from it, anyway." Mr. Mix was sitting motionless as a cat. "That's right." "Well, then, if you'll just read these over and make sure I Ve got your meaning, and then get 34 E P E a couple of witnesses in here, we can clear the whole thing up and have it out of the way." Mr. Mix heard the scrape of chair-legs against the floor, and hastily, on tiptoe, he crossed the room to his original seat, and in passing the centre table he helped himself to a magazine which he was reading with much concentration when the door of the private office opened. "Why, hello, Mix," said Mr. Starkweather. "Been waitin' long? Be with you in half a second. ' ' "Just got here," said Mr. Mix, as though startled. He returned the magazine to the table, and was still standing when his friend came back, in convoy of young Mr. Robert Stan- dish, his chief assistant. "Come on in, Mix. Want you to witness a will." "Anything to oblige," said Mr. Mix, with alacrity. He spoke cordially to young Mr. Standish and in another moment, to the lawyer. With due solemnity he carried out the function which was assigned to him; he would have loved a peep at the body of the documents, but already ROPE 35 he was possessed of some very interesting in- formation, and he kept his eyes religiously in the boat. Mr. Mix believed that in business and society, as well as in war, advance information is the basis of victory; and even while he was blotting his second signature, he was wonder- ing how to capitalize what he had overheard. No inspiration came to him; so that methodi- cally he stowed away the facts for reference. "Stay right here, Mix. That's all, ain't it, Mr. Archer?" "That's all.'* The lawyer was packing up his papers. "Good-morning, gentlemen." He bowed himself away; Standish had long since vanished. Mr. Starkweather mopped his face. "Hot, ain't it?" "You aren't looking so very fit," said Mr. Mix, critically. "Feel all right, do you?" Mr. Starkweather pulled himself together. "Sure," he said, but his voice lacked its usual heartiness. "I feel fine. Well, what can I do for you?" Mr. Mix, delaying only to close the door (and to see that it latched) began with a fore- 36 E P E word which was followed by a preface and then by a prelude, but he had hardly reached the main introduction when Mr. Starkweather put up his hand. ' ' To make a long story short, Mix how much do you want?" Mr. Mix looked pained. "Why, to tide me over the dull season, John, I need let's see He stole a glance at his friend, and doubled the ante. "About five thousand." Mr. Starkweather drummed on his desk. "Any security?" Mr. Mix smiled blandly. "What's security between friends ? I '11 give you a demand note. ' ' At length, Mr. Starkweather stopped drum- ming. "Mix, I don't quite get you. . . . You've had a good business ; you must have made con- siderable money. You oughtn't be borrowin' from me; that's what your bank's for. You oughtn't be borrowin' money any way. You been too big a man to get in a hole like this. What's wrong business rotten?" "Too good," said Mr. Mix, frankly. "It's taking all my capital to carry my customers. And you know how tight money is." "Oh, yes. Well I guess your credit's good EOPE 37 for five, all right. When do you have to have it? Now?" "Any time that suits you, suits me." Mr. Starkweather shook his head. "No, it don't, either. When a man wants money, he wants it. Wants it some particular day. When is it!" "Why, if you could let me have it today, John, I'd appreciate it." "Make out your note," said Mr. Stark- weather, heavily, "Interest at six percent, semi- annually. I'll have the cashier write you out a check." Ten minutes later Mr. Mix, patting his breast pocket affectionately, bestowed a pater- nal smile upon the girl at the wicket; and Mr. Starkweather, alone in his office, drew a prodigious breath and slumped down in his chair, and fell to gazing out over the roof- tops. It was a fortnight, now, since Henry's last letter. He wished that Henry would write oftener. He told himself that one of Henry's impulsive, buoyant letters would furnish the only efficacious antidote to Mirabelle. And he 38 EOPE needed an antidote, and a powerful one, for during the past two weeks Mirabelle had been surpassing herself. That is, if one can surpass a superlative. Judge Barklay, of course, had taken the rev- elation like a man. Like a philosopher. He was fond of Henry personally; he had objected to him purely for the obvious reasons. He agreed, however, with Mr. Starkweather mar- riage might awaken Henry to complete respon- sibility. Indeed he had Mr. Starkweather's guaranty of it. To be sure a secret marriage was somewhat sensational, somewhat inde- corous " Humph!" Mirabelle had interrupted. "I don't know who's insulted most you or us. Still I suppose you've got one consolation and that's if two young fools marry each other instead of somebody else it only leaves just the two of 'em to repent at leisure instead of four." Mr. Starkweather recalled, with chagrin, his own and the Judge's futile attempts at tact. Mirabelle was tact-proof; you might as well try subtle diplomacy on a locomotive. He took ROPE 39 another deep breath, and gazed abstractedly out over the roof-tops. He wished that Henry would write. Henry had his defects, but the house was not quite livable without him. Mr. Starkweather was swept by an emotion which took him wholly by surprise and almost over- came him; he sat up, and began to wonder where he could find some occupation which would chink up the crevices in his thoughts, and prevent him from introspection. Eventually he hit upon it, and with a conscious effort, he pulled himself out of his chair, and went over to Masonic Hall to meet his sister Mirabelle. She had been attending a conference of the Ethical Reform League, and as Mr. Starjk- weather 's car drew in to the curb, the reformers were just emerging to the sidewalk. He sur- veyed them, disparagingly. First, there was a vanguard of middle-aged women, remarkably short of waist and long of skirt, who looked as though they had stepped directly from the files of Godey's Lady's Book; he recognized a few of them, and judged the others accordingly these were the militants, the infantry, who bore the brunt of the fighting. Next, there was a 40 ROPE group of younger women, and of young men the men, almost without exception, wore spec- tacles and white washable ties. These were the skirmishers and the reserves. At one side, there was a little delegation in frock-coats and silk hats, and as Mr. Starkweather beheld them, he lifted his eyebrows; some of those older men he hadn 't seen in public for a dozen years he had forgotten that they were alive. But the majority of them were retired or retiring capitalists; men who in their day, had man- aged important interests, and even now con- trolled them. Mr. Starkweather reflected that life must have become very insipid to them; and he further reflected that their place in this organization must be as shock-troops. They would seldom go into action, but when they did, they had the power of consequence to give them an added momentum. His sister caught sight of him, and waved her hand in greeting; and this astonished him all the more, because since Henry's departure, she had behaved towards him as though his character needed a bath. Mr. Starkweather made room for her. ROPE 41 * ' Thought I 'd give you a lift back to the house, ' ' he said. There was an unusual colour in her cheeks, and her eyes were brilliant. "John, do you know what I am?" Mr. Starkweather didn't dare to hesitate. "No. What?" "I'm the president," she said, and her voice was trembling with pride and bewilderment. "President? Of the League?" Transfigured, she nodded again and again. "The nominating committee reported this morning. I'm the only candidate. ..." She stared at him and stiffened. "Of course, I know you aren't interested in anything helpful or progressive, so I don't expect to be con- gratulated. Of course not." Mr. Starkweather made a dutiful struggle to be joyous about it, and succeeded only in producing a feeble smirk. "I'll say one thing you've got some money represented in that crowd. Those old codgers. I didn't realize it. ... Well, what's your program?" She unbent a little, and began to recite her platform, and as she skipped from plank to 42 E P E plank, her own enthusiasm was multiplied, and Mr. Starkweather was correspondingly encased in gloom. As a mere active member of the League, a private in the ranks, Mirabelle had made his house no more cheerful as a mauso- leum; and when he considered what she might accomplish as a president, in charge of a sweep- ing blue-law campaign, his imagination refused to take the hurdle. Fortunately, he wasn't expected to say any- thing. His sister was making a speech. She didn't stop when the car stopped, nor when Mr. Starkweather climbed down stiffly, and held open the door for her, nor even when they had reached the portico of the big brick house. He told himself, dumbly, that if the world would ever listen to Mirabelle, it would cer- tainly reform. Not necessarily in contrition, but in self-defence. And yet when he sat opposite her, at lunch, his expression was as calm and untroubled as though she had fashioned for him an ideal ex- istence. He was seeing a vision of Mirabelle as a soap-box orator; he was seeing humorous stories about her in the newspapers; he was E P E 43 shuddering at all the publicity which he knew would be her portion, and yet he could smile across the table at her, and speak in his nor- mal voice. Physically, he was distressed and joyless, but he found it easier to rise above his body than above his mind. His smile was a tribute to a dual heroism. "Got a little present for you," said Mr. Starkweather, suddenly. He tossed a slip of paper to her, and watched her as she examined it. "There's a string to it, though. I want you to hold it awhile." She looked up, sceptically. "Suppose it's good!" "Oh, it's perfectly good. Mix is all right. Only I don't want you to press him for awhile. Not for three, four months, anyhow." He pushed away his dessert, untasted. "You know why I'm givin' you these little dibs and dabs every now and then, don't you! So if anything ever happens to me, all of a sudden, you'll have somethin' to draw on. Let's see, I've put about forty in the little trust fund I been buildin' up for you, and given you twelve " He broke off abruptly; his own 44 EOPE symptoms puzzled him. As though somebody had tried to throttle him. His sister had already been sitting bolt up- right, but now she achieved an even greater rigidity. "Did you take my advice about your will? I don't suppose you did." "I made some changes in it this morning," said Mr. Starkweather, uncomfortably. "Did you do what I told you to about Henry?" He was struggling to keep a grip on him- self. "Well, no not exactly." "Oh, you didn't?" she said tartly. "Well, what did you do?" "Mirabelle," said her brother, "don't you think that's just a little mite personal?" "Well I should hope so. I meant it to be. After the way Henry's acted, he don't de- serve one bit of sympathy, or one dollar from anybody. And if 7Ve got anything to say, he won't get it, either." Mr. Starkweather's round, fat face, wore an expression which his sister hadn't seen before. He stood up, and held the back of his chair for support "Mirabelle, you haven't got a word ROPE 45 to say about it. I've made some changes in my will, but it's nobody's damned business outside of mine. ' ' She reached for her handkerchief. "John! To think that you'd swear at me " He wet his lips. "I didn't swear at you, but it's a holy wonder I don't. I've stood this just about as long as I'm goin' to. Henry's my own flesh and blood. And furthermore he wouldn't waste my money a minute quicker 'n you would. He'd do a damn sight better with it. He'd have *a good time with it, and make everybody in the neighbourhood happy, and you'd burn it up in one of your confounded reform clubs. Well, all I've got's a sister and a nephew, so I guess the money's goin' to be wasted anyhow. But one way's as good's another, and Henry's goin' to get a fair break, and don't you forget it." He took a glass of water from the table, and spilled half of it. ' ' Don 't you forget it. ' ' At last, she had perception. "John, you don't know what you're saying! What's the matter I Are you sick ? ' ' He was swallowing repeatedly. "Yes, I am. Sick of the whole thing." His eyes, and the 46 ROPE hue of his cheeks, genuinely alarmed her; she went to him, but he avoided her. "No, I don't want anything except to be let alone. ... Is the car out there!" "But John listen to me " He waved her off. "I listened to you the day Henry came home, Mirabelle. That's enough to last me quite some time. I ain't forgot a word you said not a word. Where's my hat?" He rushed past her, and out of the house, and left her gaping after him. Half an hour later, young Mr. Standish tele- phoned to her. "Miss Starkweather? . . . Your brother isn't feeling any too well, and I've just sent him home. He looks to me as if he's in pretty bad shape. Wouldn't be a bad idea to have your doctor there, seems to me." She had the doctor there, and before the night was over, there was another doctor in consulta- tion. There were also two nurses. And to both doctors, both nurses and Mirabelle, Mr. Stark- weather, who knew his destiny, whispered the same message at intervals of fifteen minutes. "Don't have Henry come back don't have E P E 47 Henry come back no sense his comin' back 'till August. Tell him I said so. Tell him I want him to stay over there 'till August." And then, in the cool, fresh morning, Mr. Starkweather, who hadn't stirred a muscle for several hours, suddenly tried to sit up. "Postman!" said Mr. Starkweather, with much difficulty. He was waiting for a letter from Henry, and when they put it into his hands, he smiled and was content. He hadn't the strength to open it, and he wouldn 't let anyone else touch it ; he was satisfied to know that Henry had written. And after that, there was nothing worth wait- ing for. CHAPTER IV IT never occurred to Henry, when he came home in late July, to take his wife to the big brick house which had been his uncle 's. He didn 't know whether the house would go to Aunt Mirabelle or to himself, and for the time being, it was immaterial; Aunt Mirabelle was wel- come to possession of it, undisturbed. Except for his uncle, there would have been open war- fare between them long ago ; now that the arbi- trator was gone, war was inevitable, but Henry wouldn't fight on sacred ground. He preferred to accept the hospitality of Judge Barklay. The Judge's house was a third the size, and not the least prepossessing, and there really wasn't room for the young Devereuxs in it, but as soon as you stepped inside the door, you knew that you were welcome. He was sorry for his aunt, and he went to see her immediately, but even in this new situation, she let him know that she disapproved of him 48 ROPE 49 thoroughly and permanently. She wasn't rec- onciled to his marriage; she didn't care to re- ceive Anna ; she implied that regardless of Mr. Starkweather's express wishes, Henry was a stony-hearted ingrate for remaining so long abroad. To be sure, his presence at home would have served no purpose whatsoever, but Mirabelle was firm in her opinion. More than that, she succeeded in making Henry feel that by his conduct he had hurried his uncle into an untimely grave; she didn't say this flatly, nor yet by innuendo, but she managed to convey it through the atmosphere. 1 'Of course," she said, "you've been to call on Mr. Archer, haven 't you ? ' ' Henry flushed indignantly. "I hadn't even thought about it. ' ' ' 'Well, when you do, you'll hear some fine news." Her lip curled. "Your friend Bob Standish's bought the business. Some of it, anyway. Bought it on a shoestring's my guess, but he 's bought it. ' ' "I didn't know it, Aunt Mirabelle." "Well, they only closed the deal a few days ago." 50 ROPE ''Good for Bob!" He was thinking that if honest toil were demanded of him, nothing could be more pleasant than an alliance with this same Standish. His uncle had always of- fered up Standish, subtly, as an illustration of what Henry himself ought to be. And it was a tribute to the mutual affection of all three men that Henry had never been irritated at Mr. Starkweather, nor resentful towards his friend. On the contrary, he admitted that unless he were himself, he would rather be Standish than anyone else. He wondered if his uncle could have planned for him so delightful a pen- nance as a year or two of happy servitude under Bob. He must see Bob and congratulate him. Only twenty-seven, and the head of the most important concern of its type in several coun- ties. Aunt Mirabelle sniffed. "Good for nothing. He's most as scatter-brained as you are." Henry declined the combat, and after she sensed his intention, she went on, with increas- ing acridity. "The rest of the whole estate's tied up for a year in a trust, to see what you're going to EOPE 51 do with some piece of property he deeded to you just before he died, but Mr. Archer wouldn't tell me much about it 'till you came home. I suppose it's part of the business some department of it. If you can make ten thousand dollars out of it, you 're to have every- thing. All / get 's a few thousand outright, and what John gave me in a little separate fund, and a year's income from the whole estate. I suppose you think that's perfectly fair and right and just. Naturally, you would." In his present mood, Henry was immune to astonishment. "I don't believe it's up to me to criticize Uncle John, whatever he did. ' ' "Not under the circumstances, no. You've got some piece of property I don 't know what it is; he didn't tell me; 7'm only his sister and he's fixed things so it's just a gamble for you. You're going to do the gambling; and I sit back and fold my hands and wait a year to see whether you get everything, or I do. Even this house." "What's that?" She made a deprecating gesture. "Oh, yes, if you aren't a good enough gambler, then I 52 E P E come into everything. It puts me in such a sweet position, doesn't it? So comfortable for me." Her smile was bitter; she was recalling what her brother had said to her at lunch, on that final day that he wouldn't listen to her, because already he had heard the worst that she had to say. Originally, as she knew, he had intended to bequeath Henry a fourth of his property, and herself the remainder; and she knew that by her too vigorous indictment of Henry she had egged her brother into a state of mind which, regardless of the cause of it, she still considered to be unfathomable. The memory galled her, and so did the possibility of Henry's triumph. "Well," she said, "I wish you every happiness and success, Henry. I suppose you feel in your conscience you de- serve it, don't you?" When he left her, he was aware that the last tie had been severed. His friend Bob Standish was a young man who in the past ten years had achieved many E P E 53 different kinds of success by the reason that mere acquaintances, as well as strangers, in- variably underestimated him. For one thing, his skin was so tender, his eyes so blue and in- nocent, his mouth so wide and sensitive, his forehead so white and high, that he gave the impression of almost childish simplicity and ingenuousness. For another thing, he dressed with such meticulous regard for the fashion, and he moved about with such indolent amia- bility, that his clothes and his manners dis- tracted attention from what was underneath. And so, at college, a full battalion of kindly sophomores had volunteered to teach him poker, and couldn't understand why the profits went not to the teacher, but to the pupil. Im- mature professors, who liked to score off idlers and fat-brained sons of plutocrats, had selected him as the perfect target, and some of them had required several terms to realize that Stand- ish, always baby-eyed, beau-attired and appar- ently dreaming of far distant things, was never lower in rank than the top twenty of his class. Out on the Field, visiting ends and tackles, meeting him for the first tkne, had 54 E P E nearly laughed in his face, and prepared: to slaughter him, only to discover, with alarm and horror which steadily increased from the first whistle to the last, that Standish could ex- plode his muscles with such a burst of dy- namic energy that his hundred and sixty pounds felt like two hundred and ten. It was equally discouraging to learn, from breathless experience, that when he was in his stri4e he was as unpursueable as a coyote; and that he could diagnose the other fellow's tactics even before the other fellow had quite decided what to do next. In commerce, he had merely continued the same species of career ; and by virtue of being thoroughly depreciated, and even pitied, by his customers, he had risen in six years from the grade of city insurance solicitor to that of Mr. Starkweather's principal assistant. And now, as casually as he had ever raked in a jack-pot from the bewildered sophomores, he had bought the Starkweather business, and not on a shoestring, either, as Mirabelle had sus- pected. E O P E 55 He had roomed with Henry at college; he had been his inseparable companion, out of office hours, ever since; he knew him too well to proffer any trite condolence. But his sym- pathy was firm and warm in his fingers when he shook hands and Henry got the message. ''Thought probably you'd rather not have me at the train, " said Standish, "so I didn't come. Eight or wrong f ' ' " Eight, Bob ... Allow smoking in your sanctum?" "Don't allow anybody not to smoke. "What are you doing borrowing or offering?" Henry glanced at Standish 's brand. "Nei- ther one. Every man for himself and you've got vile taste. Well, I hear you're the big boss around here. Please, mister, gimme a job?" "Nothing I'd like better," said Standish. "I've got just the thing for you. Sit over on the window-sill and be a lily. Flowers brighten up an office so." "You basely misjudge me. Didn't you know I'm going to work?" 56 ROPE Standish's eyes were round and guileless. 1 1 See any sea-serpents on your way over? I 've heard there are such things." "Fact, though, I am. And you know it, too. I'm hoping it's here." His friend shook his head. "Not here, Henry. ' ' "No?" ' ' No, and I 'm sorry. I 'd make you clean ink- wells and say 'sir,' and you'd get to be almost as democratic as I am. . . . Haven't you seen Archer ? ' ' "Not yet." "Why not?" ' * Oh, just squeamish, I suppose. You sort of hate to think of the cash end of it." "That's right, too. But as long as you're in the building, you 'd better drop in there. From all the talk there is, you've picked up a mys- tery. ' ' "Mystery? In what way?" "Not for me to say. Go find out. And say you and Anna come and dine with me tonight, will you? I just want to have you all to myself. Mind?" ROPE 57 "Not noticeably." "Good. Seven o'clock. Now get out of here and "Sell out and strike you for a job, I guess." "Don't believe it would work, old man." "Don't you think so?" "One pal boss another? Too much family." Henry looked serious. "I'm sorry you think so. 7 wouldn't have kicked." 188 ROPE "No, I'm afraid I couldn't give you a job, old dear. I like you too well to bawl you out. But maybe we'll do business together some other way." As he drove his tin runabout homeward, Henry was unusually downcast. He didn't blame Standish Standish had showed himself over and over to be Henry's best friend on earth. But it was dispiriting to realize how Standish must privately appraise him. Henry recalled the justification, and grew red to think of the ten years of their acquaintance ten years of continuous achievement for Standish, and only a few months of compulsory display for himself. But he wished that Standish hadn't thrown in that last remark about doing business together some other way. That wasn't like Bob, and it hurt. It was too infer- nally commercial. He found the apartment deserted. His shout of welcome wasn't answered: his whistle, in the private code which everybody uses, met with dead silence. Henry hung up his hat with con- siderable pique, and lounged into the living- room. What excuse had Anna to be missing at E P E 189 the sacred hour of his return? Didn't she know that the happiest moment of his whole day was when she came flying into his arms as soon as he crossed the threshold? Didn't she know that as the golden pheasants fled fur- ther and further into the thicket of unreality, the more active was his need of her? He won- dered where she had gone, and what had kept her so late. Was this a precedent, and had the first veneer of their companionabilty worn off so soon for Anna? A new apprehension seized him, and he hur- ried from room to room to see if instead of censuring Anna, he ought to censure himself. There were so many accidents that might have happened to her. Women have been burned so severely as to faint: they have drowned in a bathtub: they have fallen down dumb-waiter shafts: they have been asphyxiated when the gas-range went out. And to think that only a moment ago, he had been vexed with her. The sight of each room, once so hideously common- place, now so charming with Anna's artistry and the work of her own hands her beautiful hands which ought to be so cared for filled 190 ROPE him with contrition and fresh nervousness. No, she had escaped these tragedies yet she was missing. Missing, but now half an hour late. And downtown there were dangerous street-crossings, and dangerous excavations, and reckless motorists. . . . Once in a while a structural-iron worker dropped a rivet from the seventh story; and there were kidnappers abroad. . . . The key turned in the lock, and Henry dropped noiselessly into a chair, and caught up day-bef ore-yesterday's paper. He greeted her tenderly, but temperately. "Well, where 've you been?" She had to catch her breath. "Oh, my dear, I've had the most wonderful time! I've oh, it's been perfectly gorgeous! And I've got it! I've got it!" He had never seen her keyed to such a pitch, and manlike, he attempted to calm her instead of rising to her own level. "Got what? St. Vitus' dance?" "No! The scheme! The scheme we were looking for ! ' ' Henry discarded his paper. ' ' Shoot it. ' ' She waved him off. "Just wait 'till I can E P E 191 breathe. ... Do you remember what you told me a long time ago about a talk you had with your aunt? And she said bye-and-bye you'd see the writing on the wall?" "Yes." "Well, I've seen it I" "Whereabouts?" "Wait. . . . And remember your talking to Mr. Mix, when he said you ought to go to a League meeting and air your views ? ' ' "Yes." "Well, I went!" He gazed at her. "You what?" She nodded repeatedly. "It was a big pub- lic meeting. I was going past Masonic Hall, and I saw the sign. So I went in ... oh, it was so funny. The man at the door stared at me as if I'd been in a bathing suit, or something, and he said to me in a sort of undertaker's voice: 'Are you one of us?' And I said I wasn't, but I was thinking about it, and he said something about the ninety and nine, and gave me a blank to fill out only I didn't do it: I used it for something lots better: I'll show you in a minute and then I sat down, and 192 ROPE pretty soon Mr. Mix got up to talk, and you should have seen the way your aunt looked at him; as if he'd been a tin god on wheels and he bragged about what the League was doing, and how it had already purified the city, but that was only a beginning and what a lot more it was going to do oh, it was just ranting but everybody clapped and applauded only the man next to me said it was politics instead of reform and then he went on to talk about that ordinance 147, and what it really meant, and how they were going to use it like a bludg- eon over the heads of wrong-doers, and all that sickening sort of thing and the more he talked the more I kept thinking. . . . My dear, all that ordinance says at least, all they claim it says is that we can't keep open on Sunday for profit, isn 't it ? " Henry was a trifle dizzy, but he retained his perspective. "Yes, but who'd want to keep open for charity?" She gave a little cry of exultation. "But that's exactly what we want to do! That's what we are going to do. And they can't pre- vent us, either. We're going to keep open for ROPE 193 a high, noble purpose, and not charge a cent. And the more I thought, and Mr. Mix bragged, the more I ... so I wrote it all down on the back of that blank the man gave me and there it is and / think it's perfectly gorgeous even if it is mine. Now who's Methuselah's wife?" On the back of the blank there was written, in shaky capitals, what was evidently intended as the copy for an advertisement. She watched Henry eagerly as he read it, and when at first she could detect no change in his expression, her eyes widened, and her lips trembled impercep- tibly. Then Henry, half-way down the page, be- gan to grin: and his grin spread and spread until his whole face was abeam with joy. He came to the last line, gasped, looked up at Anna, and suddenly springing towards her, he caught her in his arms, and waltzed her madly about the living-room. When he released her, her hat was set at a new and rakish angle, and she had lost too many hair-pins, but to Henry she had never looked half so adorable. "Of course," he panted, "everybody else '11 194 K P E do it too, as soon as we 've showed 'em how "What what difference does that make!" "That's right, too. ..." He fairly doubled himself with mirth. "Can't you just see Mix's face when he sees this writing on the wall of the Orpheum?" "I I've been seeing it all afternoon. When can we start ? ' ' "Bight away. Now." He stopped, rigid. "No, we won't either. No we won't. First, we've got to see the Judge we've got to make sure there's no flaw in it. And then we won't let anybody copy us ! " "But how can you stop them?" Henry was electric. ' ' What 's a movie theatre worth on Sunday? When they can't give a show anyway? I'll rent every house in town for every Sunday from now 'till August! I'll have to go slow, so nobody '11 suspect. It may take a month, or two months, but what do we care? We'll play it sure. It won't cost too much, and we've got the cash in the bank. We've " He paused again, and looked down at her, and his voice fell a semi-tone. "I don't know where I get all this we stuff. I'd have E P E 195 spent two-thirds of it by this time. You 're the one that's saved it and earned it too, by gosh ! " He lifted her hands, and while she watched him, with shining eyes, he deliberately kissed the tip of each of her ten fingers. "That's where the money's come from/' said Henry, clearing his throat. "Out of dish-water. Only tonight we're going out to a restaurant and eat our- selves logy, and you won't wash a damn dish. It's my party." CHAPTER XI MISS MIRABELLE STARKWEATHER lifted up her cup of tea, and with the little finger of her right hand stiffly extended to Mr. Mix's good health. Mr. Mix, sitting upright in a gilded chair which was three* sizes too small for him, bowed with a courtliness which belonged to the same historical period as the chair, and also drank. Over the rim of his cup, his eyes met Mirabelle's. " Seems to me you've got on some kind of a new costume, haven't you?" asked Mr. Mix gal- lantly. " Looks very festive to me very/' For the first time since bustles went out of fashion, Miss Starkweather blushed ; and when she blushed, she was quite as uncompromising about it as she was about everything else. It wasn't that she had a grain of romance in her, but that she was confused to be caught in the act of flagging a beau; to hide her confusion, she rose, and went over to the furthest win- 196 E P E 197 dow and flung it wide open. The month was February, and the air was chill and raw, but Mirabelle could think of no other pretext for turning her back and cooling her cheeks. And yet, although she would have perjured herself a thousand times before she would admit it, she felt a certain strange, spring-like pleasure to know that Mr. Mix was only pretending to be deceived. "Oh, my, no," she said over her shoulder. "I've had this since the Flood." Mr. Mix had also risen, to hand her back to her seat, and now he stood looking down at her. She was wearing a gown of rustling, plum-col- oured taffeta, with cut-steel buttons ; and at her belt there was a Dutch silver chatelaine which had been ultra-smart when she had last worn it. Vaguely, she supposed that it was ultra-smart today, and that was the reason she had attached it to her. From the chatelaine depended a sil- ver pencil, a gold watch, a vinaigrette with gold- enamelled top, and a silver-mesh change-purse. At her throat, she had a cameo, and on her left hand, an amethyst set in tiny pearls. Mr. Mix, finishing the inventory, seated himself and be- 198 E O P E gan to tap one foot on the floor, reflectively. He was a man of perception, and he knew war- paint when he saw it. " Makes you look so much younger," said Mr. Mix, and sighed a little. "Don't be a fool," said Miss Starkweather, and to dissemble her pleasure, she put an extra- sharp edge on her voice. "I don't wear clothes to make me look younger; I wear 'em to cover me up." ' ' That 's more than I can say for the present generation." "Ugh!" said Miss Starkweather. "Don't speak of it ! Shameless little trollops ! But the worst comment you could make about this pres- ent day is that men like it. They like to see those disgraceful get-ups. They marry those girls. Beyond me." Mr. Mix sneezed unexpectedly. There was a cold draught on the back of his neck, but as Mirabelle said nothing about closing the win- dow, he hesitated to ask permission. "I've always wondered what effect it would have had on your public, career if you hadn't pre- ferred to remain single. " B P E 199 "My opinions aren't annuals, Mr. Mix. They're hardy perennials." "I know, but do you think a married woman ought to devote herself entirely to public af- fairs I Shouldn 't she consider marriage almost a profession in itself ?" "Well, I don't know about that. Duty's duty." "Oh, to be sure. But would marriage have interfered with your career? Would you have let it? Or is marriage really the higher duty of the two!" "There's something in that, Mr. Mix. I never did believe a married woman ought to be in the road all the time." "It was a question of your career, then?" Mirabelle put down her cup. "Humph! No, it wasn't. Bight man never asked me." Mr. Mix's mind was cu tiptoe. "But your standards are so lofty naturally, they would be." He paused. "I wonder what your stand- ard really is. Is it unapproachable? Or do you see some good in most of us?" Mirabelle sat primly erect, but her voice had an unusual overtone. * ' Oh, no, I 'm not a ninny. 200 E P E But good husbands don't grow on goose-berry- bushes. If I'd ever found a man that had the right principles, and the respect of everybody, and not too much torn-foolishness a good, solid, earnest citizen I could be proud of ' Mr. Mix interpolated a wary comment. "You didn't mention money." She sniffed. "Do I look like the kind of a woman that would marry for money ? ' ' "And in all these I mean to say, haven't you ever met a man who complied with these conditions ? ' r She made no intelligible response, but as Mr. Mix watched her, he was desperately aware that his moment had come. His next sentence would define his future. He was absolutely convinced, through his pri- vate source of information, that Henry was due to fall short of his quota by four or five thou- sand dollars; nothing but a miracle could save him, and Mr. Mix was a sceptic in regard to miracles. He was positive that in a brief six months Miss Starkweather would receive at least a half million; and Mr. Mix, at fifty-five, wasn't the type of man who could expect to E P E 201 have lovely and plutocratic debutantes thrown at his head. He believed and his belief was cousin to a prayer that Mirabelle was ab- sorbed in reform only because no one was ab- sorbed in Mirabelle. Indeed, she had implied, a few moments ago, that marriage would cramp her activities; but it was significant that she hadn't belittled the institution. Perhaps if she were skilfully managed, she might even be modernized. Certainly she had been content, so far, to be guided by Mr. Mix's conservatism. He hoped that he was right, and he trusted in his own strategy even* if he were wrong. And every day that he continued moderate in his public utterances, and in his actions, he was a day nearer to the golden ambition of an elec- tive office. He was threatened with, vertigo but he mas- tered himself, and drew a long, long 1 breath in farewell to his bachelorhood. "You have heartened me more than you know," said Mr. Mix, with ecclesiastical sober- ness. " Because it has been my poverty which has kept me silent." He bent forward. " Mirabelle, am I the right man?" Almost by 202 K P E sheer will-power, he rose and came to her, and took her hand. She shrank away, in maiden modesty, but her fingers remained quiescent. Mr. Mix sneezed again, and stooped to kiss her cheek, but Mirabelle avoided him. "No/' she said, with a short laugh. "That don't signify I don't approve of it much.'* She wavered, and relented, "Still, I guess it's customary Theodore. ' ' Before he left her, they had staged their first altercation it could hardly be called a quarrel, because it was too one-sided. Mirabelle had asked him without the slightest trace of shyness, to telephone the glad tidings to the Herald; and of a sudden, Mr. Mix was afflicted with self- consciousness. Unfortunately, he couldn't give a valid reason for it; he couldn't tell her that illogically, but instinctively, he wanted to keep the matter as a looked secret and especially to keep it locked from Henry Devereux until the minister had said : Amen. He admitted to himself that this was probably a foolish whim, E P E 203 a needless precaution, but nevertheless it ob- sessed him, so that he tried to argue Mirabelle away from the Herald. His most cogent argu- ment was that the announcement might weaken their position in the League the League might be too much interested in watching the romance to pay strict attention to reform. " Humph!" said Mirabelle. "I'm not ashamed of being congratulated. Are you? But if you're so finicky about it, I'll do the tele- phoning myself. ' ' Whereupon Mr. Mix went back to his room, and drank two highballs, and communed with himself until long past midnight. In the morning, with emotions which puzzled him, he turned to the society column of the Herald; and when he saw the flattering para- graph in type, with the veiled hint that he might be the next candidate for Mayor, on a re- form ticket he sat very still for a moment or two, while his hand shook slightly. No back- ward step, now! His head was in the noose. He wondered, with a fresh burst of self-efface- ment, what people would say about it. One thing they wouldn't accuse him of the truth. No- 204 E P E body but Mr. Mix himself knew the whole truth unless perhaps it were Henry Devereux. Henry had developed a knowing eye. But Henry didn't count Henry was beaten al- ready. Still, if Henry should actually come out and accuse Mr. Mix of why, what could Henry accuse him of? Simply marrying for money? If it didn't make any difference to Mirabelle, it certainly didn't to Mr. Mix. And what booted the rest of the world ? Why should he concern himself with all the petty spite and gossip of a town which wasn't even progressive enough to have an art museum or a flying field, to say nothing of a good fight-club? Let 'em gos- sip. . . . But just the same, he wished that Mirabelle had been willing to keep the engage- ment a secret. Mr. Mix: was sure to encounter Henry, once in a while, at the Citizens Club, and he didn't like to visualize Henry's smile. He was in the act of tossing away the paper when his 1 attention was snatched back by a half- page advertisement; in which the name of the Orpheum Theatre stood out like a red flag. Mr. Mix glanced at it, superciliously, but a moment later, his whole soul was strung on it. ROPE 205 THE ORPHEUM Educational Motion Pictures FREE ! FREE ! FREE ! Every Sunday afternoon and evening ESPECIALLY HIGH-CLASS ENTERTAINMENT of instructive and educational features With Sacred Music ABSOLUTELY FREE to all those who present at the door ticket-stubs from the previous week's performances (bargain matinees excepted) showing a total expenditure of Three Dollars. IN OTHER WORDS Two people coming twice during the week, in 75 cent seats, come FREE Sunday Three people coming twice during the week, in 50 cent seats, come FREE Sunday A PURELY VOLUNTARY COLLECTION will be taken up and divided between The Associated Charities The Starving Children of Belgium and The Chinese Famine Fund This Sunday 206 E P E THE SWORDMAKER'S SON an absorbing drama of Biblical days Next Sunday BEN-HUR, in seven reels NO ADMISSION FEE BEING CHARGED, AND ALL VOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTIONS BEING DE- VOTED TO CHARITY, THIS ENTERTAINMENT DOES NOT FALL WITHIN ANY CITY ORDI- NANCE PROHIBITING SUNDAY PERFORM- ANCES THE ORPHEUM Motion Pictures Mr. Mix, goggle-eyed, jumped for the tele- phone, and called the City Hall, but as soon as the Mayor was on the wire, Mr. Mix wrestled down his excitement, and spoke in his embassy voice. " Hello Bowland'/ This is Mix. I want to ask you if you Ve seen an ad of the Orpheum Theatre in this morning's paper? . . . Well, what do you propose to do about it?" The Mayor answered him in a single word: Mr. Mix started, and gripped the receiver more tightly. "Nothing! . . . Why, I don't quite get you on that. ... It's an open and shut ROPE 207 proposition No, I most certainly am not try- ing to make a pun ; I 'm calling you up in my of- ficial capacity. That's the most flagrant, bare- faced attempt to evade a law Why, an idiot could see it! It's to drive the crowd into the Orpheum during the week, so that " He listened, with increasing consternation. "Who says it isn't a violation? Who? The City Attorney?" Mr. Mix was pale; and this was quite as uncommon as for his fiancee to blush. "When did he say so? ... What's that? What's his grounds? . . . Repeat it, if you don't mind Practically a charitable per- formance by invitation " "Why, sure," said the Mayor. He realized perfectly that Mr. Mix had the League and another thousand people of small discernment behind him, but the Mayor didn't want to be re-elected, and did want to retire from politics. "The Orpheum doesn't say a fellow that comes Sunday has got to prove lie spent the money for the tickets, does it? Anybody that's got the stubs can come. They're just as much in- vitations as if they were engraved cards sent around in swell envelopes. If you've got one 208 E P E whether you paid for the invitation or not, or if you got it in the mail or picked it up on the street, you can go on in. And as long's no money's taken in over the counter, the City At- torney says it's 0. K. Of course, you can peti- tion the Council, if you want to." Mr. Mix was licking his lips feverishly. "I'm obliged to you for your advice. We will petition the Council I'll have it signed, sealed and delivered by noon today. . . . And if that don't do, we'll apply for an injunction. . . . And we'll carry this to the Governor before we're done with it, Rowland, and you know what state laws we've got to compel a Mayor of an incorporated city to do his duty! . . . This is where we part company, Rowland. You '11 hear from me later ! ' ' He slammed down the receiver, rattled the hook impetuously, and called Mirabelle's number. "Mirabelle . . . good-morning; have you .... No, I 'm not cross at you, but Oh ! Good- morning, dear. . . . This is important. Have you seen the Orpheum's ad in the Herald? Isn't that the most barefaced thing you ever saw? Don't we want to rush in and " ROPE 209 She interrupted him. "Why, no, not when it 's for charity, do we V ' Mr. Mix nearly dropped the receiver. "Charity! Charity your grandmother ! It's a cheap trick to attract people during the week, so they'll have a show on Sunday in spite of the law!" "Oh, I don't doubt there's some catch in it. That's Henry all over. But if the League went out and interfered with an educational and sort of religious program with a collection for charity, we'd " "Yes, but my dear woman, would we sanc- tion a dance for charity? A poker-party? A wine-supper? We " "But there won't be any dancing or drinking or card-playing at the Orpheum, will there?" He lost his temper. "What's the matter with you? Can't you see " "No, but I can hear pretty well," said Mira- belle. "I'm not deaf. And seems to me " She sniffled- "Seems to me you're making an awful funny start of things, Theodore. ' ' "My dear girl " "What?" 210 E P E "I just said 'my dear girl.' I " * ' Say it again, Theodore ! ' ' To himself, Mr. Mix said something else, but for Mirabelle's benefit, he began a third time. "My dear girl, it's simply to evade the law, and" "But Theodore, if we lift one finger to stop the raising of money for the poor starving chil- dren in foreign countries, we'd lose every scrap of influence we Ve gained. ' ' "But this means that all the theatres can open again ! ' ' "Well, maybe you'd better get to work and frame the amendment to Ordinance 147 we've been talking about, then. And the new statute, too. We've wasted too much time. But under the old one, we can't go flirting with trouble. And if all they do is show pictures like Ben- Hur, and The Swordmaker's Son, why . . . don't you see? We just won't notice this thing of Henry's. We can't afford to act too nar- row. . . . And I'm not cross with you any more. You were all worked up, weren't you? I '11 excuse you. And I could just hug you for being so worked up in the interests of the ROPE 211 League. I didn't understand. . . . When are you coming up to see me? I've been awfully lonesome since yesterday." Mr. Mix hung up, and sat staring into va- cancy. Out of the wild tumult of his thoughts, there arose one picture, clear and distinct the picture of his five thousand dollar note. Whatever else happened, he couldn 't financially afford, now or in the immediate future, to break with Mirabelle. She would impale him with bankruptcy as ruthlessly as she would swat a fly; she would pursue him, in outraged pride, until he slept in his grave. And on the other hand, if certain things did happen at the Or- pheum how could he spiritually afford to pass the remainder of his life with a militant re- former who wouldn't even have money to sweeten her disposition and Mr. Mix's. He wished that he had put off until tomorrow what he had done, with such conscious foresight, only yesterday. CHAPTER XII NOW although Mr. Mix had shaken with con- sternation when he saw the advertisement of the Orpheum, Henry shook with far different sentiments when he saw the announcement in eulogy of Mr. Mix. It was clear in his mind, now, that Mr. Mix wasn't the sort of man to marry on speculation; Henry guessed that Mirabelle had confided to him the terms of the trust agreement, and that Mr. Mix (who had shaken his head, negatively, when Henry esti- mated his profits) had decided that Henry was out of the running, and that Mirabelle had a walkover. The guess itself was wrong, but the deduction from it was correct ; and Henry was convulsed to think that Mr. Mix had shown his hand so early. And instead of gritting his teeth, and damning Mr. Mix for a conscience- less scoundrel, Henry put back his head and laughed until the tears came. He hurried to show the paragraph to Anna, 212 E P E 213 but Anna wouldn't even smile. She was a woman, and therefore she compressed her lips, sorrowfully, and said: "Oh poor Miss Stark- weather ! " To which Henry responded with a much more vigorous compression of his own lips, and the apt correction: "Oh, no poor Mr. Mix!" He carried his congratulations to his aunt in person; she received them characteristically. "Humph! . . . Pretty flowery language. . . . Well, you don't need to send me any present, Henry; I didn't send you one." "When's the happy event to be?" he in- quired, politely. "June. Fourth of June." "And do you know where you're going for your honeymoon ? ' ' "I don't like that word," said Mirabelle. "It sounds mushier than a corn-starch pudding. And besides, it's nobody's business but his and mine, and I haven't even told him yet. I'm keeping it for a surprise." " Oh ! " said Henry. * ' That 's rather a novel idea, isn't it?" "Humph!" said Mirabelle, dryly. "The 214 ROPE whole thing's novel, isn't it? But I'm obliged for your coming up here, Henry. I didn 't sup- pose you had enough interest in family matters to be so nosey, even." Later in the week, Henry encountered Mr. Mix, and repeated his congratulations with such honeyed emphasis that Mr. Mix began to stam- mer. "I appreciate all you say, Henry but come here a minute." He drew Henry into a convenient doorway. ''I'm sort of afraid, from the way you act, there 's something in the back of your mind. I've thought, sometimes, you must have lost sight of the big, broad prin- ciples behind the work I'm doing. I've been afraid you've taken my work as if it was di- rected personally against you. Not that I've ever heard you say anything like that, but your manner's been . . . well, anyway, you're too big a man for that, Henry. Now about this new scheme of yours. It's my feeling that you're dodging the law by sliding in the back door. It's my official duty to look into it. Only if we do have to put a stop to it, I want you to realize that I sympathize with any personal ROPE 215 loss you may have to suffer. Personally, I'm grieved to have to take this stand against John Starkweather 's nephew. You understand that, don't you?" Henry nodded assent. "Why, certainly. Your motives are purer than the thoughts of childhood. The only thing I don't understand is what all this has to do with my congratulat- ing you?" "Oh, nothing whatever. Nothing at all. It was just your manner." "Let's come out in the open, then. How do you think you could put a stop to it? Because if you could, why, I'll save you the trouble." Mr. Mix hesitated. "You were always an original young man, Henry. But if it's my duty to stop your show, why should I give away my plans? So you could anticipate 'em?" "No, I've done that already." "Now, Henry, that sounds too conceited to be like you." "Oh, no, it's only a fact. But here I'll run through the list for you. Have me pinched un- der the ordinance? Can't be done; the City 216 K P E Attorney's said so, and I saw the Chief of Po- lice was in on it. Get an injunction? You can't do that either, because- " "Why can't we?" "Because I've got one already." Mr. Mix's jaw dropped. "What's that? How could you " "Oh, I got Bob Standish just as a citizen tax-payer to apply for a temporary injunc- tion yesterday, to test it out. It's being argued this morning. Don't you want to come over and hear it ? If I lose, I won't open next Sun- day at all; and if I win, then the League can't get an injunction later. . . . What else can you do?" "We may have other cards up our sleeves," said Mr. Mix, stiltedly. "Just the place I'd have looked for 'em," said Henry, but his tone was so gentle and in- offensive that Mr. Mix only stared. He shook hands with Henry, and hurried over to the Court House, where he arrived just in time to hear the grey-haired jurist say, dispas- sionately: "Motion denied." Mr. Mix swabbed his face, and thought in E P E 217 lurid adjectives. He wouldn't have dared, in view of Mirabelle's opinion, to ask for an in- junction on behalf of the League itself, but it had occurred to him that he might arrange the matter privately. He could persuade one of of the old moss-backs that Mirabelle might be swayed by her relationship to Henry (this struck him as the height of sardonic humour), and the moss-back could go into Court as an in- dividual, to enjoin the Sunday performance as opposed to public policy. But Henry had out- stripped him; and furthermore, there was no question of judicial favour. The Judge who had refused the application was no friend of Henry, or of Judge Barklay. And Bob Stand- ish's attorney, who by a fiction was attacking Henry's position, had claimed that the Sunday show was designed for profit, and that the price was merely collected in advance. This would have been precisely Mr. Mix's thesis. Henry's own lawyer had replied that since there was no advance in the price of tickets during the week, there was no charge for Sunday. A ticket dur- ing the week included an invitation. To be sure, one couldn't get the invitation without the 218 ROPE ticket, but where was the ordinance violated! Would the Court hold, for example, that a gro- cer couldn't invite to a lecture, for charity, on Sunday, every one who had patronized his shop during the previous week? Would the Court hold that an author couldn't invite to a public reading on Sunday, every one who had bought his book on Saturday? The Court wouldn't. And Mr. Mix, who knew Henry's income to the nearest dollar, went home and got a pencil, and covered sheet after sheet with figures. Presently, he sat back and laughed. Why, he had had his hysterics for nothing! Henry couldn't overcome his handicap unless he jammed his house to capacity from now until August. No theatre had even yet accomplished such a feat. And it wasn't as though Henry had a monopoly on this scheme; in another week, all his competitors would be open Sun- days, too, with strictly moral shows, and no money taken at the door, and he would have the same competition as always. And yet, to be perfectly safe, (for Henry was fast on his feet) Mr. Mix had better frame his amendment to the ROPE 219 ordinance, and set the wheels in motion. With good luck, he could have Henry blanketed by April. That evening, Mirabelle found him more ani- mated than usual; and more lavish with com- pliments. Since he had first seen Henry's advertise- ment, Mr. Mix had been as uncertain of his prospects as a child with a daisy; he had fore- seen that it was only a part of a very narrow margin of fortune which would determine whether he was to be a rich man, poor man, beg- gar man or jilt. Now, however, his confidence was back in his heart, and when, on Sunday aft- ernoon, he placed himself inconspicuously in the window of an ice-cream parlour, squarely opposite the Orpheum, it was merely to satisfy his inquisitiveness, and not to feed his doubt. He had to concede that Henry was clever. Henry had introduced more fresh ideas into his business than all his competitors in bulk. What a customers '-man Henry would have been, if he had entered Mr. Mix's brokerage of- fice! Yes, he was clever, and this present in- spiration of his was really brilliant. Mr. Mix 220 ROPE could see, clearly, just what Henry had devised. He had devised a rebate: from a book-keeping standpoint he was cutting his own prices during the week (for of course the Sunday perform- ance was costly to him) but he was cutting them in such a subterranean manner that he wouldn't expect to lose by it. Palpably, he thought that Orpheum stubs would become negotiable, that they would pass almost as currency, that when people hesitated between the Orpheum and any other theatre, they would choose the Orpheum because of the Sunday feature. But did Henry imagine that his scheme was copyrighted f Mr. Mix had to smile. Across the street, there were fully a hundred people waiting for the doors to open . . . the doors had opened, and the crowd was filing past the ticket-booth. The house would be packed solid from now until late evening. But when next Sunday came, and all the other houses, relying upon Henry's triumph over the City Attorney and the District Court, stole Henry's thunder. ... It was to laugh. Week-day business would be spread thin, as al- ways; people could suit their own choice, and ROPE 221 have the same Sunday privilege. And this would knock all the profit out of it. Mr. Mix retired, in the blandest of good- humour, and on Monday he visited the manager of the largest picture house in town. "I suppose," he said, " you 're going to follow the procession, aren't you?" The manager looked at him queerly. "Well no." "Beally?" "No. That bird Devereux put it all over us like a tent. ' ' He snorted with disgust. ' * Man from Standish's office come round here a while back and asked for a price for the house for Sundays up to August. We thought it was for some forum, or something ; and the damn place was shut down anyway; so we made a lease. Next twenty Sundays for four hundred and seventy-five beanos, cash in advance. Then it turns up that Standish's office was actin' for Devereux." The bloom of apoplexy rose to Mr. Mix's cheeks. "You mean he do you know if he leased more theatres than this one? Did he?" 222 ROPE "Did he! He signed up the whole damn Ex- hibitors' Association. There's twenty-two houses in town, and he's tied up twenty-one and he owns the other. Far's I can find out, it only cost him about six thousand to get an air-tight monopoly on Sunday shows for the next six months." Mr. Mix drew breath from the very bottom of his lungs. "What can you do about it!" "Do? What is there to do? All we can do is put on an extra feature durin' the week, to try and buck him that way and it won't pay to do it. He's got a cinch. He's got a graft. And all the rest of us are in the soup." Mr. Mix was occupied with mental arithme- tic. "Tell me this is it going to pay him?" "Pay him!" echoed the manager scornfully. "Six thou for twenty weeks is three hundred a week. Fifty a day. Twelve-fifty a perform- ance. Twelve-fifty calls for about twenty-five people. Don't you think he'll draw that many new patrons, when he can give 'em on Sundays what nobody else can? And everything over twenty-five '11 be velvet. He'll clean up two, three thousand easy and maybe more. What E P E 223 beats me is why he didn't get leases for the next hundred years. We wouldn't have had the sense to block him." "I'll tell you why," said Mr. Mix, choking down his passion. " Because there's going to be a new ordinance. It'll deal with Sunday en- tertainments. And it's going to prohibit any such horse-play as this." He surveyed his man critically. "Does Henry Devereux belong to your Association?" "No, he don't. And he won't either. We don't want him." "Then as long as you people can't keep open Sundays anyway," observed Mr. Mix care- lessly, "maybe you'd find it to your advantage to support the Mix amendment when it gets up to the Council. It'll kill off any such unfair competition as this." The manager shrugged his shoulders. "If it wasn't for your damn League we'd all be makin' money." "I'm sorry we don't all see this thing in the same light. But as long as the rest of you are out of it " "Oh, I can see that. . . . And you and me 224 E P E both understand a little about politics, I should imagine. ' ' He grinned wryly. ' ' Never thought I'd link up with any reform outfit but why don't you mail me a copy of your amendment, and I'll see how the boys take it." Mr. Mix agreed to mail a copy as soon as the final draft was completed, and he was as good as his word. On the same evening, he read the masterpiece to Mirabelle with finished emphasis. "It's perfect," she said, her eyes snapping. "It's perfect! Of course, I wish you'd have made it cover more ground, but just as a Sun- day law, it's perfect. When are we going to offer it to the Council?" "Mirabelle," said Mr. Mix, "we've got to do some missionary work first. And before you can do missionary work, whether it's for re- ligion or politics or reform, you've got to have a fund." "Fund? Fund? To get an ordinance passed? Why don't you walk in and hand it to 'em?" He shook his head. "I was in politics a good ROPE 225 many years. We Ve got to get out printed mat- ter, we've got to spend something for advertis- ing, we Ve got to approach some of the Coun- cillors the right way." She sat up in horror. "Not bribe them!" "Oh, dear, no! You didn't think that of me!" "No, but when you said " ' ' I said they had to be * approached. ' I didn 't mean corruption; I meant enlightenment." He rubbed his nose reflectively. "But the cost is approximately the same." "Of course, I trust your judgment, Theodore, but . . . how big a fund do you suppose we'll want. ' * "Oh, I should think five thousand would do it." "Five ! Theodore Mix, how could you spend five thousand dollars for such a thing? There isn't that much in the treasury ! There's hardly one thousand." "My dear, if I were in your place, I'd pro- tect my ante. I'd " "What's all that gibberish?" 226 ROPE "I said,' 7 he corrected hastily, "we've got too much at stake to risk any failure when a little money would guarantee success. ' ' "Would five thousand dollars guarantee it!" "If I had that much in cash, to spend here and there as I saw the need of it take one type of man out to dinner a few times, where I could get close to him loan another type fifty dollars if he asked me for it( and some of 'em would) hire detectives to shadow another type " "Detectives!" "Yes. To check up their habits. Suppose we found a man gambling on the sly; we'd hold that over his head and " ' ' Humph ! I don 't like it much, but in a good cause it may be justifiable." "And leaflets and circulars and one thing and another. . . . But if I have to go out and get permission from a finance committee before I can let go of a dime, I can't do anything. I'd have to have the money so I could use it exactly as I needed it. And if I did, I'll bet I could get support you never dreamed of. Get outside people to bring pressure on the Council." He gazed at the ceiling. "Why, with a leeway of ROPE 227 five thousand, I 'd even have the Exhibitor 's As- sociation with us. I'd have " "Think so?" "I know so." "How?" "Because long before I was in the League, I was in politics. When I say I know, I know. Of course, the Association's help would only go to show that they see the light in respect to their own business it wouldn't cover all the whole scope of the amendment, but even so " "Theodore, you know politics and I don't. But both of us know the proverb about what you catch flies with. So we '11* try both methods together. You can put out the molasses, and I'll put out the vinegar; and between us, we ought to get somewhere." "We can't fail," said Mr. Mix, sitting on needles. Mirabelle went over to her desk, and searched the pigeon-holes. "I've been told, Theodore, by people I consider very reliable that in August, dear John's money will be coming to me. ' ' This was the first time that she had ever broached the delicate subject. "I always 228 E P E meant to use some of it for the League." She had unearthed her check book, and was writing words and figures as angular as herself. "So really, this is on account." She came over to hand him the check, and after a slight hesitation, she stooped and pecked him on the forehead, but immediately afterwards she relapsed into her consistently, non-roman- tic character. "You better give me an item- ized account of how you spend it, though, Theo- dore. You better give me one every day. We've got to be businesslike, even if we are engaged/ 1 CHAPTEE XIII FOR two-thirds of a year, Henry Devereux had lived contrary to his independent taste, and to his education. He had virtually cut himself adrift from the people he liked and the pleasures he loved ; his sole luxury had been his membership in the Citizens Club ; and he had laboured far more diligently and with far less respite than his uncle had ever intended. He had overcome -great difficulties, of which the most significant was his own set of social fetiches, and he had learned his weaknesses by exercise of his strength. He had made new friends, and brought the old ones closer to him and this by virtue of honest plugging, and de- termination. He was unassumingly proud of himself, and he was prouder yet of Anna; he knew that the major portion of his accomplish- ment and especially that part of it which had taken place within himself was to be put down to Anna's credit. But the spring was coming 229 230 ROPE towards them, and Henry winced to think of it. Heretofore, the message of spring, in Henry's estimation, had been a welcome to new clothes, golf, horseback parties, and out-of-door flirtations; this season, it meant to him a fall- ing-off in the motion-picture business. The spring was calling to him, but Henry had to discipline his ears. His working hours were from eleven in the morning until mid- night; he sat, day after day, in his constricted office, and glued his mind upon his problems. The Orpheum was still a sporting proposition to him, but even in sport, there come periods in which the last atom of nerve and will-power are barely sufficient to keep the brain in motion. Henry's nerves were fagged, his muscles were twitching, the inside of his head felt curiously heavy and red-hot ; the spring was calling him, but he didn't dare to listen. The spirit of his Uncle John Starkweather was waiting to see if he came to the tape with his head down, and Henry was going to finish on his nerve. As a matter of fact, he could easily have spared an hour of two each day for exercise and recreation, but he wouldn't believe it. He ROPE 231 wouldn't yield to Anna when she implored him to get out of doors, to freshen his mind and tame his muscles. The atmosphere of his office almost nause- ated him; the endless parade of petty details was almost unbearably irksome ; the book-keep- ing part of it alone was sx>ul-disintegrating ; but to Henry, ambition had become a mono- mania, and to it he was ready to make every conceivable sacrifice, including if necessary his health. There were days when he told him- self that he would pay a thousand dollars merely to have green turf under his feet, blue sky above, and no worries in his soul but he wouldn't sacrifice an hour of supervision over his theatre. There were days when he felt that he would give up his chance of salvation if only he could go away with Anna, up into the wooded country, for a week's vacation but he wouldn't sacrifice a week from the Or- pheum guardianship. The spring was calling him the golf course, the bridle-paths, the lake, the polo but Henry had put himself in high speed forward, and there was no reverse. Then, too, he was constantly thinking of Anna, 232 ROPE who without the daily stimulus that Henry had, was cheerfully performing the function of a do- mestic drudge. One of his most frequently re- peated slogans was that if Anna could stick it out, he could. While the winter favoured it, his monopoly had brought him a splendid return, but the first warm days had signalled a serious loss of patronage, and Henry couldn't successfully combat the weather. The weather was too glor- ious; it called away Henry's audiences, just as it tried in vain to inveigle Henry. And then the monopoly had been double-edged; it had been a good risk and without it, he wouldn't have had the slightest chance against the re- quirements but it had been too perfect, too prominent. In the beginning, everybody had hailed him as a Napoleon because he had van- quished his little world of competitors ; but now that his laurel was old enough to wilt, he was receiving the natural back-lash of criticism. Naturally, his personal friends were still de- lighted, the older men at the club were still con- gratulating him for foresight and ingenuity, and Mr. Archer was still complimentary and E P E 233 confident : but the great mass of theatre-goers, and the mass of self-appointed arbiters of business ethics, were pointing to him as a follower of the gods of grasp and gripe. More disquieting than that, however, were the indi- cations of a new crusade, led by Mr. Mix, and directed against the Council. The Mix amend- ment, which was so sweeping that it prohibited even Sunday shows for charity, would auto- matically checkmate Henry; and the worst of it was that money was being spent with some effectiveness. Of course, the amendment wouldn't ever be adopted in toto it was too sweeping, too drastic but even a compromise on the subject of Sunday entertainments would be fatal. Despite the strain, he was outwardly as blithe and optimistic as usual. When Anna pleaded with him to take a vacation, he either laughed her off in his most jovial manner, or riposted that she needed a vacation far more than he did, which may have been true; when Judge Barklay attempted to reason with him, he re- sponded with respectful humour. He had seen victory slip within his grasp, and slip out of it, 234 ROPE so often that he was on the verge of complete demoralization, but he thought that he alone was aware of it, and because of his pride, Anna didn't disillusion him. Nor did Bob Standish disillusion him. Standish tried to bolster him up with under- graduate slang, and to convey to Henry the fact that all the hill-folk were solidly behind him, but he knew better than to come out flat with commiseration. Then, too, Standish was con- scious of a vague cloud which had come up to blur their relationship. He didn't suspect for an instant the true cause of it, which was his remark, some months ago, that he wouldn't employ in his office a friend such as Henry; but he felt it, and was keenly concerned about it. Nevertheless, his own unselfish interest never faltered, and he waited patiently, because he knew that between himself and Henry there could be no permanent misunderstanding. Nor did Mr. Archer, Henry's firm friend and ally (insofar as Mr. Archer could separate his personality into two separate entities, one of which was ally, and the other was impartial trustee) disillusion him, although Mr. Archer ROPE 235 had also eyes to see with. On the contrary, Mr. Archer put out numerous remarks which he in- tended as lifebuoys. " There was a directors' meeting of the Trust and Deposit the other day, Henry, and somehow they got talking about your account. I shouldn't wonder if you ever wanted to change your business if they wouldn't give you the opportunity; and if they did, it wouldn't be so very long before they'd invite you on the Board." Henry disparaged it. "What as deputy assistant splinter?" "You've made rather a hit with the older crowd, Henry. And even if you aren't a rich man by inheritance next August, I'm not worrying about your future." "Neither am I. Not while I've got Anna to think up my best thoughts for me." The lawyer nodded. "A girl in a thousand, Henry. ' ' "That's the worst insult I ever heard! The population of the world's over two bil- lion!" Mr. Archer laughed, but his eyes showed ap- 236 E P E proval. "It's simply something for* you to keep in mind, my boy about the bank. It's a possible career, unless you want to go on with the Orpheum. Of course, you'd have to start pretty low, at first, but you know as well as I do that nobody's asked to come into that bank unless he's well thought of." Henry didn't repeat this conversation to Bob Standish, because he thought it would sound too much like saying "Yah!" nor did he re- peat it to his wife, because he thought it would sound too egotistical; but on the same day he collected another item of news which he un- hesitatingly shared with her. He said to Anna: "I saw something down- town that'll amuse you. Cigar store with a sign in front: Trading Stamps, Premium Coupons, and Orpheum Theatre Stubs Bought and Sold. If that isn't a footprint on the sands of time I'm going to get measured for glasses." She laughed a trifle recessively. "I'll be glad when it's all over, though. Won't you!" Inspecting her, he realized with a little thrill of self -accusation, that Anna had worn herself ROPE 237 out; she hadn't had a day's freedom from housework, and she had worked twice as hard as he thought necessary. She was very tired, and she showed it; but he knew that when she wanted the year to be over, she wasn't thinking of herself, but of him. He paid her the compliment of accepting what she said, without tossing it back as though she had meant it for herself. "Well, I told you I'd drag in the bearded lady and the wild man of Borneo, if I had to. What's the matter; don't you like the show business ? ' ' "Of course, we didn't exactly go into it for fm." "I seem to remember your calling it a lark, though." "I didn't know it was going to be quite as awful as this." "Awful?" "You know what I mean you're worn out, and you look dreadfully and I didn't know we'd have to do so much " She fumbled for the word. "What is it when a man stands out- side, and tries to make people come in and look at the snake-charmer!" 238 E P E 4 'Ballyhoo. Would you have wanted me to stay out of it, if you'd known?" She deliberated. "It's funny but I don't think I would. In a way, it's been good for both of us. I'll just be glad when it's over. . . . What sort of house did you have?" Henry put on his best smile. "Not too good. Fair." "If we should fall down, after all we've done oh, we can't! Henry, we just can't!" "I used to know a poem," he said, "that kept asking the question 'Where are the snows of yesteryear?' Well, if I could find out, and have 'em shovelled back in the street, we'd be in a good position. But as soon as the snow melted, so did the big crowds. I'll never look a crocus in the face again. They've croaked us out of a couple of hundred a week, gross." "If we should fall down, do you know who I'd be sorry for? The managers of the other theatres. We'd just have been dogs in the manger. And every time I think about it, I don't feel nearly as smart as I did last January. Of course, I suppose it was fair enough, but "Fair? Oh, yes. That sort of thing '11 ROPE 239 always be fair as long as there's any business. Queer, though, when you come to think of it. We hadn't any grudge against the other fellows; but they'd have stolen our idea, so we had to protect it. If they'd stolen our ten dollar bill, they'd have had to go to jail for it; but they could have stolen an idea worth ten thousand, and we'd just have had to stand back, and gibber. As long as that's fair, then we were fair. ' ' "I wonder," she said, "if all monopolists go through the same thing first, they get such a wonderful scheme that they hardly dare to go to bed for fear they'll talk in their sleep: then they 're crazy for fear it won 't work ; then it does work, and they think they're the Lord's anointed; and bye-and-bye they look around and feel sort of apologetic." "Oh. Do you feel apologetic?" "I'm looking around, anyway." "You'd better save your energy. Mix's amendment 's coming up pretty soon, and even if it doesn't pass, I don't see how we're going to compete with this weather. It's so abomi- nably beautiful that it 's sickening. ' ' 240 ROPE "Oh Mix!" she said, scornfully. "It gives me the creeps just to hear his name ! He 's a nasty hypocrite, and a sneak, and a How long do you suppose he'll be hurrying around with that pious air after he gets his money? Why, he won't even stay in the League !" Henry grimaced. "You're wrong. If he gets his money, he will stay in the League, and I '11 bet on it." There was a short silence. "Henry," she burst out, "everything considered, I believe he wants your uncle's money more than we do!" "Whichever one of us gets it, " said Henry grimly, * ' He '11 earn it ! " When he recalled his previous years of irresponsibility, he was staggered to realize how little a fifty dollar bill had meant to him. It had *neant a casual request across the break- fast table; now, it meant that seventy five or a hundred people were willing to pay him a few cents apiece for the result of his head- aches ; and the absence of those people, and the ROPE 241 failure of those receipts, meant the difference between achievement and bitter downfall. He had risked everything on his monopoly, and added six thousand dollars to his quota. For two months, he had carried the double load, and beaten his schedule; in early May, he was falling behind at the rate of fifty dollars a week. With twelve weeks ahead, he faced a deficit of a paltry six hundred dollars and the Mix amendment was peeping over the horizon. He shaved down his expenses to the utter- most penny; he ruthlessly discarded the last fraction of his class pride, and in emergency, to save the cost of a substitute, acted in place of his own doorman. He rearranged the lighting of the auditorium to save half a dollar a day. When the regular pianist was ill, he permitted Anna, for an entire fortnight, to play in his stead; and during that fortnight they ate three meals a day in a quick-lunch restaurant. There was no economy so trivial that he wouldn't embrace it; and yet his re- ceipts hung steadily, maddeningly, just below the important average. Meanwhile, the sub- 242 E P E ject of reform crept out again to the front page of the morning papers. For nine months, Mr. Mix and Henry had occupied, mentally, the end seats on a see-saw, and as Henry's mood went down, Mr. Mix's mood went up. By strict fidelity to his own affairs, Mr. Mix had kept himself in the public eye as a reformer of the best and broadest type, and he had done this by winning first Mirabelle, and then the rest of the League, to his theory that organization must come before attack. Needless to say, he had found many impedi- ments in the way of organization; Mirabelle had often betrayed impatience, but Mr. Mix had been able, so far, to hold her in check. He had realized very clearly, however, that Mirabelle wasn't to be put off indefinitely; and he had been glad that he had a readymade ruse which he could employ as a blinder whenever she began to fidget. This ruse was his amend- ment ; and although he could no longer see any value in it for the purposes of his private feud, yet he was passing it for two reasons; Mira- belle was one, and the public was the other. Even a reformer must occasionally justify his ROPE 243 title; and besides, it wasn't the sort of thing which could injure the majesty of his reputa- tion. On this, then, Mr. Mix had laboured with un- ceasing diligence, and he had spent Mirabelle 's money so craftily that thirty five hundred dollars had done the work of five thousand (and the balance had gone into his own pocket, and thence into a disastrous speculation in cotton), but as the year came into June, he told himself cheerfully that amendment or no amendment, he was justified in buying Mirabelle a wedding- ring. And when a belated epidemic of influ- enza rode into town, on the wings of an un- timely spell of weather, and the Health Depart- ment closed all theatres for five days, Mr. Mix told himself, further, that the end of his career as a reformer was in sight, and that the begin- ning of his career of statecraft was just over the hill. Once the minister had said "Amen," and once his bride had made him her treasurer, and helped him into the Mayor 's chair, the Re- form League was at liberty to go to the devil. Mirabelle had persisted in keeping the wedding-journey a surprise from him. She 244 ROPE had hinted at a trip which would dazzle him, and also at a wedding gift which would stun him by its magnificence; Mr. Mix had visions on the one hand, of Narragansett, Alaska or the Canadian Rockies, and on the other hand, of a double fistful of government bonds. Mr. Mix didn't dare to tease her about the gift, but he did dare to tease her about the journey, and eventually she relented. 1 i I'll tell you," said Mirabelle, archly. "We're going to the convention." Mr. Mix looked blank. "Convention?" She nodded proudly. "The national con- vention of reform clubs, in Chicago. Aren't you surprised?" Mr. Mix swallowed, and made himself smile, but it was a hazardous undertaking. "Sur- prised? I I'm I'm knocked endways!" "You see," she said, "we'll be married on the fourth and be in Chicago on the sixth and be home again on the fourteenth and the Council won't vote on the amendment until the six- teenth. Could anything have been nicer? Now, Theodore, you hadn't guessed it, had you?" E P E 245 " Guessed it?" he stammered. "I should say not. I don't see how you ever thought of it. It 's why, I 'm paralyzed ! ' ' 11 You could be a little more enthusiastic with- out hurting yourself any," she said sus- piciously. "I was thinking. I used to fancy I was pretty good at making plans myself, but this beats me. The way those dates all dovetail like the tiles on a roof. I never heard of anything like it. Only well, if you will be so quick at reading my mind, I was wondering if we ought to leave town before the Council meets. ' > "That's mighty unselfish of you, Theodore, but you said only a couple of days ago you'd done all you could. And the Exhibitors '11 still be working " "I don't believe they'll work any too hard. It's taken too long to get under way. If the amendment passes, you see they'll only have the advantage of six weeks of fair competition. I mean, Henry 'd lose only six weeks of his un- fair competition. And then we've got to see about getting new quarters for the League, when our Masonic Hall lease runs out, and " 246 E P E "But our advertising '11 be running just the same, and the League '11 still have its public meetings, and all. And everywhere I go I hear the same thing; the people really want this passed. And anybody can find us a new hall. I'll appoint somebody. No, you're just as un-* selfish as you can be, but we'll be back in time. Truly, Theodore, didn't you guess!" Much of the jauntiness had gone out of Mr. Mix, but he consoled himself with the certainty that in another two months, he would be in a position to become masterful. The week in Chicago would bore him excessively, but after all, it was only a small part of a lifetime. He reflected that to any prisoner, the last few days before release, and freedom, are probably the hardest. "How could I, my dear?" "No, you must have thought I'd want you to traipse off on some perfectly aimless, non- sensical trip like a pair of sentimental idiots." "Oh, you know me better than that," he mur- mured. "Yes, but I didn't know how well you knew ROPE 247 me. Sometimes I've been afraid you think I'm too gushing." "Oh, Mirabelle!" "Just because I chatter along to you as any innocent young girl might " She continued to chatter for some minutes, but Mr. Mix was absent-minded. He had chewed the cud of his own virtue for too long a time, and it had given him a sour stomach. He was thinking that if her gift to him were in money (and from her hints he rather ex- pected it) he might even manage to find, in Chicago, a type of unascetic diversion which would remove the taste of the convention from his spirit. But it was better to be safe than sorry, and therefore Mr. Mix decided to make a flying trip to New York, for his bachelor cele- bration. To Mirabelle he said that he was going to confer with his friend, the head of the Watch- and-Ward Society. Mirabelle promptly volun- teered to go along too, but Mr. Mix told her, as delicately as he could, that it wouldn't look proper, and Mirabelle, who worshipped pro- 248 ROPE priety as all gods in one, withdrew the sug- gestion. "But before you go," she said, "You've got to do something about the state-wide campaign. You've got to write the literature, anyway." Mr. Mix felt that he was protected by the calendar, and promised. Before he went to New York, he wrote three pamphlets which were marvels of circumlocu- tion, as far as reform was concerned, and masterpieces of political writing, as far as his own interests were concerned. He had borrowed freely, and without credit, from the speeches of every orator from Everett to Choate, and when he delivered the manuscripts to Mirabelle, and went off on his solitary junket, he was convinced that he had helped his own personal cause, and satisfied the League, without risking the smallest part of his reputation. On his return, he stopped first at the Citizens Club, and when he came into the great living- ROPE 249 room he was aware that several members looked up at him and smiled. Over in a corner, Henry Devereux and Judge Barklay had been conversing in undertones; but they, too, had glanced up, and their smiles were among the broadest. Mr. Mix had an uncomfortable intuition that something had blown. Could he have been spotted, in New York, by any one from home! 1 1 What's the joke?" he inquired of the nearest member. "Got a new name for you Pitchfork Mix." Mr. Mix spread a thin smile over his lips. "Supposed to be funny, is it?" "Some folks think so." " Where 'd it originate? Let me in on the joke.'" "Where would it originate? You're some strenuous author aren't you? Didn't know you had that much acid in your system. ' ' "Author? Author?" From the table at his side, the man picked up three pamphlets. One was entitled The Model Statute, the second was Local Problems, and the third was Reform and Regeneration. To 250 E P E each of the three, Mr. Mix's name was signed. He took them up, and scrutinized them closely. "Why, what's so remarkable about these?" "Well, that one on Local Problems isn't so bad, but you know, Mix, when you come out in print and tell us that sooner or later you're going to stop the manufacture and sale of play- ing-cards, and " "What?" "And stop all public dancing, and " Mr. Mix looked moonstruck. "Who ever said thatt" "And hand us out sumptuary laws regulate the length of women's skirts and " Mr. Mix caught his breath sharply. * * Where 's that f Where is it ? Show it to me ! Show it to me!" Obligingly, the member showed him; and as Mr. Mix stared at the pages, one by one, the veins in his cheeks grew purple. Mirabelle had edited his manuscript, thank Heaven she hadn't tampered with the Mix amendment of the blue-law ordinance, which Mr. Mix had so carefully phrased to checkmate Henry, without at the same time seeming to do more than pro- ROPE 251 vide conservative Sunday regulation, but in the other articles Mirabelle had shovelled in a wealth of her own precious thoughts, clad in her own bleak style, and as soon as he had read two consecutive paragraphs, Mr. Mix knew that the worst wasn't yet to come it had arrived. The other man was amusedly calm. "Well, you 're not going to deny you wrote it, are you ? Too bad, in a way, though. Oh, I don't blame you for getting it off your chest, if you really mean it a man might as well come out in the open but I'm afraid too many people '11 think it just funny." Mr. Mix produced a smile which was a sickly attempt to register nonchalant poise. "What do you hear about it ? " 1 1 Oh, what I said. Say Mix, do you honestly mean all that blood-and-thunder ? ' ' Mr. Mix smiled again, and hoped that his ex- pression was taken to be non-committal. To save his life, he couldn't have helped looking towards the corner where Henry and Judge Barklay sat, and his fury and chagrin were multiplied when he saw that they were still af- fected by humour. 252 HOPE He went out, with vast dignity^-even the doorman had a twinkle in his eye and made for Masonic Hall. Mirabelle was there, in the committee room, and at sight of him, she had a temporary fit of maidenly diffidence. He wanted to slap her; but he didn't even dare to use a tone of voice which was more than disap- proving. " Those pamphlets " he began, censori- ously. "Oh, yes, Theodore, I took the liberty of making a few slight changes." ' ' Slight changes ! Sleight of hand changes ! ' ' Mirabelle drew herself up. "Do you mean to say you criticise what I did? 7 couldn't see the sense of being milk-and-watery, even if you could. All I put in was what you've said to me a hundred times over. We've wasted too much time already. I thought we'd better show our true colours." Mr. Mix stood and gaped at her. Under- ground politician that he was, he knew that Mirabelle had utterly destroyed the half of his ambition. She had made him a laughing-stock, a buffoon, a political joke. To think that his E P E 253 name was connected with a crusade against short-skirts and dancing Ugh! Not even the average run of church-goers would swallow it "Mayor!" he thought bitterly. " President of Council! I couldn't get elected second deputy assistant dog-catcher!" Aloud, he said slowly: "I'm afraid it was premature, that's all." "Oh, no, it wasn't! You've no idea how people are talking about it." "Oh, yes, I have," said Mr. Mix, but he hadn't the temerity to put a sarcastic stress on it. He was wondering whether, if he issued a statement to assure the public that what was in those pamphlets was pure idealism, and not to be taken as his outline of any immediate campaign, he could remove at least the outer layer of the bad impression, and save his amendment from the wreck. He had thought, earlier, that he wouldn't need that amendment as a personal weapon against Henry, but the value of it had appreciated by the possibility of losing it. As to the state-wide law, Mr. Mix was totally unconcerned. "Oh, yes, I have," he said. 254 E P E "Don't get too conceited, though, Theodore. The best part of it was mine." Mr. Mix's eagle eye saw a loophole. "You don't think I'm going to take praise for what belongs to you do you ? " he demanded. "Why" "No, sir!" said Mr. Mix. "Not exactly. I'm going to tell the truth about it at our next meeting, and I'm going to send a statement to the Herald." "Oh, it doesn't matter." "It matters to me. Maybe I'm too finicky, but that 's the kind of man I am. ' ' "You're too generous," she murmured. Mr. Mix wiped away a stray bead of perspir- ation, and breathed more freely. With Mira- belle's money to back him, and the stigma of those two pamphlets removed, perhaps he had a fighting chance for the mayoralty yet. It was a house-wedding, with very few guests, no decorations, and perfectly digestible re- freshments. When the last of the party had ROPE 255 gone down the steps, Mirabelle, in a travelling- suit which was new in comparison with the rest of her wardrobe, approached the bridegroom. "Theodore, I want you to have your gift be- fore we start. I don't want you to feel too de- pendent on me. Maybe after next month I'll make some kind of a settlement on you, but that's neither here nor there. So ... take it, and I hope it 's what you wanted. ' ' He took it, and his fingers trembled. A check? And for what generous amount? "Well aren't you going to thank me?" Mr. Mix tried to speak, but the lump in his throat prevented him. She had given him what was the legal equivalent of five thousand dollars, but it wasn't in the form of a check. It was his own demand note, payable to John Starkweather and endorsed by him to Mira- belle. The word "Cancelled" was written, in Mirabelle 's angular hand, across the face of it. CHAPTER XIV AS Henry and his wife went down the steps, they exchanged glances and smiled faintly. " First time I've been in that house for seven months, ' ' said Henry, half to himself. "It's a bully old shack, too. I lived in it ever since I was six/' "Still, we're pretty comfortable right where we are, dear." Henry lagged a little. "That does hurt my feelings. Of course, I'm so busy I could live in a dog-kennel and hardly notice it, but when you have to camp day in and day out in that measly little joint, and smell everybody else's corned beef and cabbage, and dig like a general- housework girl and cook, and manicure the stove, and peel the potatoes and dust off the what-not and so on not that you haven 't made it a mighty pretty place, because you have without one day's vacation since last August " 256 ROPE 257 "But I've told you so often, dear, I'm glad to do it if it helps you." "It helped a lot. If you hadn't done it in the first place, I wouldn't have had the cash on hand to tie up the rest of the picture houses. But that time's gone by. I don't see why in thunder you won't hire some servants. And at least you could pike up into the country for a week. Why don't you?" She hesitated, for temptation was strong, and she was really very tired. "Maybe it's just because I want to play the game out, too. It's only two months more." "And after that," he said firmly, "we're going to move. I'll have enough to buy a young bungle-house up on the hill, even if I don't get anything from Archer. And then I 'm going to make up to you for this year see if I don't." "Would you sell the Orpheumf" "Sell it!" he echoed. "I'd sell it so quick you'd think it was a fake oil-well! I could, too. Bob Standish sends me a proposition from somebody about once a week." 258 E P E ' ' Don 't you believe there 's any chance of our catching up, then?" "Looks pretty black," he admitted. "They've got us eight down and nine to go, but if this amendment holds off we've still got eight weeks left to think up some wild scheme/' She squeezed his arm. "I'm not afraid of the future, no matter what happens. We can take care of ourselves." "Sure we can," he said, easily. "Maybe I could get a job keeping the books for the League! . . . Seriously, though, I've had two or three different propositions put up to me over at the Club . . . but Lord! how I hate to be licked! Well let's train our gigantic intellects on the job, and finish out the heat, anyway. ' ' She went back to her hated housekeeping, and Henry went back to his hated theatre, and for another week they laboured and pinched and saved, each in a specific purpose, and each in desperate support of the other's loyalty and sacrifice. He brought her, then, the morning edition of the Herald, and pointed out a telegraphic item ROPE 259 on the first page. "They must think it's a sure thing," he said, "and the devil of it is that I guess they're pretty nearly right." Anna glanced at the headlines, and gasped. "Mix elected second vice-president of the national organization and pledges twenty-five thousand dollars to the national campaign fund! Oh! ... I wish I could say what I think!" "If a hearty oath would relieve you, don't mind me," said Henry. His chin was squarer than usual, and his eyes were harder. "You can see what happened, can't you? Aunt Mira- belle railroaded him through and the pompous old fool looks the part and she let him promise money she expects to get in August. And I'll bet it hurt him just as much to promise it as it does me to have him!" She threw the paper to the floor. "Henry, can't we do something? We're only a few hundred dollars short! Can't we make up just that little bit?" "It's a thousand, now," he said. "A thousand, and we're falling further behind every time the clock ticks." He retrieved the 260 ROPE Herald, and abstractedly smoothed out the pages. "That was a great spread-eagle speech of Mix's. wasn't it? Talking about his model ordinance, and what he's going to do next year ! . . . Nothing I 'd love better than to give that fellow a dose of his own tonic. But that's the deuce of it I can't think how to put it over. . . . Even if I'm licked, I wouldn't feel so badly if I just had the personal satisfaction of making him look like a sick cat. Just once. ' * "Yes," she said, sorrowfully. "Dad's prophecy didn't seem to work out, did it?" "What prophecy was that?" "Don't you remember? He said if Mr. Mix only had enough rope " "Oh, yes. Only Mix declined the invitation. He's handled himself pretty well; you've got to grant that. There's a lot of people around here that honestly think he's a first-class citizen. Sometimes I'm darned if I don't think they will elect him something. And then God save the Commonwealth! But if they ever realized how far that League '11 go if it ever gets under way, and what a bunch of hocum Mix's E P E 261 part of it is " He stopped abruptly, and froze in his place; and then, to Anna's amaze- ment, he turned to her with a whoop which could have carried half-way to the Orpheum. ' * Henry ! What on earth is it ? " Henry snatched up his hat and made for the door. "More rope!" he said, exultantly, over his shoulder. "Lots more rope I'll tell you tonight!" He arrived at the City Hall before the record room was open, and he fretted and stamped in the corridor until a youthful clerk with spats, pimples, and an imitation diamond scarf-pin condescended to listen to his wants. In twenty minutes he was away again, and he was lucky enough to catch Judge Barklay before the bailiff had opened court. "Hello, Henry," said the Judge. "Did you want to see me about anything!" "Bather!" said Henry, who was slightly out of breath. "It's about a comma." 262 ROPE "A what?" "A comma. Where's your copy of the ordinances f ' ' "On my desk. Why?" Henry ran through the volume to the proper place, inserted his thumb as a marker, and held the book in reserve. " Judge, do you suppose the voters want any of these fool blue-laws passed?" "No." "Well, who does, then, outside of the League?" "Nobody. All we want is a decent city." 'It's simply that the League's got the Coun- cil more or less buffaloed, isn't it?" "That's what I've heard, Henry." "And the first thing we know, the League '11 have put in such a big wedge that it'll be too late to get it out. If this amendment gets over, Mix '11 have a show in the fall, and then the League '11 run wild. Just as they said in those pamphlets that Mix published, and then squirmed out of. Isn't that so?" ' ' Very likely. Very likely. ' ' "And yet everybody's afraid to stand up E P E 263 against it, for fear they'll be called names t" * * It looks so, Henry. ' ' "But if the people once started a back fire " The Judge shook his head. "Mobs don't start without a leader. " "I know, but if they ever realized what a ghastly farce it would be not even using any of the League's new notions, but taking what we've got on the books right now " He opened the volume of ordinances, and read slowly: " 'Whosoever shall fail in the strict observance of the Lord's Day by any unseenly act, speech or carriage; or whosoever shall en- gage in any manner of diversion ' " Here he paused impressively. " ' or profane oc- cupation ' He slung the volume on the desk, and faced the Judge. "Don't you get it!" "I'm afraid I don't quite." "Why," said Henry, with a beatific grin. "Why, there's a comma after that word 'diver- sion.' I've just come from the City Hall. I've seen the original copy. There is a comma. 'Any manner of diversion' that's one thing: 'or any manner of profane occupation for 264 ROPE profit ' that's something else again, and dif- ferent entirely. And the Reform League has been shrieking to have that ordinance enforced to say nothing of the amendment. Well, why not enforce it once. 'Any manner of diver- sion I' He began to laugh, helplessly. "Oh, come on, Judge take the pins out and let your imagination down. Any manner of " The Judge was whistling softly. "By George, Henry " "Can't you see it working? I'm not sure anybody could even take a nap ! And The Judge stepped past him. "That's all right, Henry. Stay where you are. I'm just going to telephone Eowland. . . . Hello: May- or's office, please " He motioned to his son-in-law. "Make yourself comfortable I shouldn't wonder a bit if these blue-laws weren't going to get just a little bit bleached.'* On his delirious way to the Orpheum, he stopped in to see Bob Standish, not to share the joke with him, for Judge Barklay had laid great ROPE 265 stress on the closest secrecy, but in answer to a recent message asking him to call. " What's the excitement, Bob?" His friend regarded him with the innocent stare which had made his fortune. "Remem- ber I spoke to you some time ago about renting that space over the Orpheum?" "The nursery? Yes." "Well, it's come up again. Different party, this time. Of course he hasn't seen it yet, but it's a chap who wants about that much space might want to enlarge it a little, but we'd ar- range that; he'd do it at his own expense and he'd pay fifteen hundred a year." Henry deliberated. "It's so near the fin- ish. ... I don't much care one way or the other. Who 's the party ? ' ' 1 'Bird named McClellan." "I don't know him; do I?" "I don't know why you should; never met him before, myself. Well, do you want to trade?" ' * I don 't much -care what I do. " Standish surveyed him closely. "You're very peppy this morning, seems to me." 266 K P E "I've got an excuse to be." 1 ' For publication ? ' ' * * Not yet. You '11 see it soon enough. ' ' Standish's eyes dropped back to his desk. "Well, let's get this lease question off our chests. If you'll let me handle it for you, I'll guarantee you'll be satisfied. " "Would you do it if you were in my shoes?" "Absolutely provided you were in mine." Henry laughed. "Well, Mr. Bones, what is the answer?" "Why this may do you some good. That is, if you let me manage it for you. But suppose it's immaterial. Suppose you run out your string, and win or lose, you know what 's on the docket for you, don't you? If you want it?" "I haven't thought that far ahead. IVe had one or two things put up to me. ' ' 1 ' Forget 'em. ' ' Standish pointed at the wall. "Nice new mahogany flat-topped desk right there." Henry's mouth relaxed. "Why Bob." As Standish gazed at him, no observer would have said that this immature-looking boy was rated in the highest group of local business- E P E 267 men. To a stranger, the offer might have seemed insignificant, even humourously insig- nificant; but to Henry it was stupendous, and for two widely varying reasons. "Just to think over," said Standish. "In case." Henry's fists were doubled. "It isn't so much the . . . the commercial side of it, Bob, but when I know you've always had me down for such an incompetent sort of " "That was before the war. To tell the truth, old rubbish, last August I couldn't have seen it with the Lick telescope. Thought you were a great scout, of course good pal all that but business; that's different. A friend's one thing; but a partner's a lot of 'em." Henry was staring fixedly at him. "I wouldn't have any money to speak of " "Then don't speak of it. I'll name the price. The price is your year's profit on the Or- pheum." There was a little silence. "When did you get this hunch, Bob?" "Oh, about last February." "But it was about then that I came in here 268 E P E one day, and and you said you you said one pal couldn't boss another. You said " "Oh! . . . But as I recall it, you were talk- ing about a job." "Yes, and you said you wouldn't give me one ! And ever since then I've been ' ' "Idiot!" said Standish. "Is that what's been gnawing at his tender heart! Why, you astigmatic fool why. . . . Stop right there! Certainly I wouldn't have you for an employe, but as a partner that's different. If you apologize, I'll slay you. Shake hands and wipe it off your brain. . . Now let's get back to business. We 've got to have quick action. ' * CHAPTER XV AS the train slowed for the station, and a score of other passengers began to as- semble wraps and luggage, Mr. Theodore Mix sat calm and undisturbed, although inwardly he was still raging at Mirabelle for making a spectacle of him. It was fully half an hour ago that she had prodded him into activity, ignored his plea of greater experience in ways of travel, and compelled him to get the suit-cases out to the platform (she didn't trust the porter), to help her on with her cape, and to be in instant readiness for departure. For half an hour she had sat bolt upright on the edge of her seat, an umbrella in one hand and an antique satchel in the other, and her air was a public procla- mation that no railroad, soulless corporation though it might be, was going to carry her one inch beyond her destination. By a superhuman effort, Mr. Mix removed his eyes from Mirabelle 's convention badge. It 269 270 ROPE was a chaste decoration of three metal bars, two sets of supporting chains, and a half foot of blue silk ribbon, with white lettering, and Mira- belle continued to wear it for two reasons : she was proud of it, and Mr. Mix had made his ini- tial attempt to be masterful, and told her twen- ty-four hours ago that it looked as though she belonged to the Third Ward Chowder Club. Since then, she had reproached him afresh whenever she caught him looking at it. And inasmuch as it could hardly be avoided by any- one who cast the briefest glance in her general direction, he had been in hot water from Chi- cago to the present moment. He couldn't even escape to the smoking room. When a man is telling himself that a woman has made a fool of him in public, and that every one in the neighbourhood is amused to watch him, he finds it peculiarly difficult to carry on a conversation with the woman. But Mr. Mix saw that Mirabelle was about to converse, and glowering at a drummer across the aisle, he beat her to it. 11 Seems to me the League had an almighty gall to wire you for that three thousand dol- E P E 271 lars, Mirabelle. If it had been my money, I'd have hung on to it until I knew what they wanted it for." She straightened her lips. "Well, it wasn't, was it? So I didn't, did I? ... If I can't have faith in my own associates, who can I have it in? And it isn't a gift; it's a loan. Treasurer said he needed it right off, and there wasn 't anybody else to get it from in a hurry. ' ' She caught his eyes wandering towards her gorgeous insignia, and her own eyes snapped back at him. "And I hope at least I'm to have the privilege of doing what I choose with my own money. Don't forget that women are people, now, just as much as men are. After the first of August, maybe I'll " "Mirabelle. Sh-h!" ' ' No, I won 't either, ' ' she retorted. ' ' I don 't care to shush. After the first of August, may- be you'll have your share, and I won't presume to interfere with you. So don't you interfere with me. If the League had to have -money, it was for some proper purpose. And it wasn't a gift; it was a loan. And if I couldn't trust" 272 EOPE ''Oh, give it a drink!" said Mr. Mix, under his breath; and while he maintained an atti j tude of courteous attention, he barricaded his ears as best he could, and shut Mirabelle out of his consciousness. Even in Chicago, he had received bulletins from the seat of war; they had merely con- firmed his previous knowledge that Henry was beaten, thoroughly and irretrievably. A few more weeks, and Mirabelle would be rich. Half a million? That was the minimum. Three quarters! That was more likely. A million dollars? It wasn't in the least improbable. And Mirabelle had told him more than once, and in plain English, that she planned to divide with him not equally, but equitably. She had said that she would give him a third of her own inheritance. Hm ... a hundred and fifty to three hundred thousand, say. And what couldn't he do with such a benefice? Of course, he would have to profess some slight interest in the League for awhile, but gradually he could slide out of it and he hoped that he could engi- neer Mirabelle out of it. Mirabelle made her- self too conspicuous. But even if Mirabelle E P E 273 stuck to her colours, Mr. Mix needn't hesitate to drift away that is, after he had received his settlement. Late in August, he would make a trip to New York on business reform business and in the glare -of the flaming-arcs, he would compensate himself for his years of penance. Mirabelle was sharp, but (he smiled reminis- cently) in Chicago he had once managed to hoodwink her; and what man has done, man can do. "It's nothing to laugh at, Theodore !" He came to himself with a start. "I wasn't laughing. " 1 1 Did you hear what I said ? ' ' "Yes, dear. Certainly." "Very well. We'll go out, then." "Out where?" ' ' Out to the vestibule, just as I said. ' ' "But Mirabelle! We're more than a mile from the station!" "We're going out to the vestibule, Theodore. I don't propose to get left." A moment ago, Mr. Mix had been arguing that the smiles and sympathy of his fellow-pas- sengers were cheap at the price, but when he 274 ROPE rose and escorted Mirabelle down the aisle, he was telling himself that the old-fashioned prin- ciple was best the wife's property ought to pass under the absolute control of the husband. He was strengthened in this conviction by the fact that two fashionable young men in the cor- ner were snickering at him. "Home again," said Mirabelle, with a sigh of relief. "Home again, and time to get to work. And I'm just itching for it." Mr. Mix said nothing : he was wondering how soon he could get to his private cache, and whether he had better put in a supply of young onions in addition to cloves and coffee beans. He hadn't yet discovered whether Mirabelle had a particularly keen scent : but he would take no chances. "Stop staring at those girls, Theodore!" "I may be married," said Mr. Mix, defen- sively. "But I'm dashed if I'm blind. . . . Im- modest little hussies. "We'll have to tackle that question next, Mirabelle." The train eased to a standstill : he helped her down to the platform. The big car was wait- ing for them : and as the door slammed, Mr. Mix E P E 275 sat back luxuriously, and beamed at the chauf- feur. Yes, virtue had its compensations; and as soon as he had money to his own credit, he would figuratively take Mirabelle by the scruff of the neck, and he would tell her just exactly how to behave, and he would see that she did it. But for the present soft diplomacy. Mirabelle clamped his arm. "Why, what's that policeman stopping us for, right in the middle of a block ! ' ' "Search me. . . .'' He opened the door, and he leaned out, imperially. "What's wrong, of- ficer? We weren't going over twelve or thir- teen " The policeman, who had brought out a thick book of blank summonses, and an indelible pen- cil, motioned him to desist. "What name!" Mr. Mix swelled, pompously. "But, officer, I" "Cut it out. Name?" "Theodore Mix. But" "Address?" Mr. Mix gave it, but before he could add a postscript, Mirabelle was on active duty. "Of- ficer, we've got a perfect right to know what all 276 E P E this fol-de-rol is about. I'm the president of the Ethical Reform League. ' " She flirted her badge at him. "I'm Mrs. Theodore Mix used to be Miss Starkweather. My husband is a personal friend of Mayor Rowland, and the Chief of Police. I demand to to know the reason for this insult!" The policeman tore off a page at the perfora- tion, and handed it to Mr. Mix. "Judge Bark- lay's Court, Tuesday, 10 A. M. . . . Why, you're violatin' City Ordinance 147. " Mirabelle turned red. "Now you see here, young man, I know that ordinance backwards and forwards ! I ' ' ' "Try it sideways," said the unabashed po- liceman. "Ordinance says nobody can't en- gage in no diversion on the Lord's Day. That's today, and this here limousine's a diversion, ain't it?" Mr. Mix cried out in anguish, as her grip tightened. "Ouch! It's a damned outrage! Leggo my arm." "No, it isn't! Oh, Theodore, don't you see what it means* " E P E 277 "Leggo, Mirabelle! It's a damned out- rage ! ' ' "No, it isn't either! Theodore, don't you see? The Mayor's weakened they probably read your speech at Chicago they aren't wait- ing for the amendment ! They're enforcing the ordinance better than we ever dreamed of! And that means that you're going to the City Hall next autumn ! ' ' She leaned out and bowed to the gaping officer. "We beg your pardon. You did perfectly right. Thank you for doing your duty. Can we go on, now ? ' ' The man scratched his head, perplexedly. "What are you tryin' to do kid me? Sure; go ahead. Show that summons to anybody else that stops you." In the two miles to the hill, they were stopped seven times, and when they arrived at the house, Mirabelle was almost hysterical with triumph. Without delaying to remove her hat, she sent a telegram to the national presi- dent, and she also telephoned to a few of her League cronies, to bid them to a supper in cele- bration. Mr. Mix made three separate essays 278 E P E to escape, but after the third and last trial was made to appear in its proper light as a subter- fuge, he lapsed into heavy infestivity; and he spent the evening drinking weak lemonade, and trying to pretend that it belonged to the Col- lins family. And while his wife (still wearing her insignia) and his guests were talking in a steady stream, Mr. Mix was telling himself that if Ordinance 147 was going to prevent so inno- cent an occupation as riding in a car on Sun- day, he was very much afraid that life in this community was going to be too rich for his blood. That is, unless he were elected to be chief of the community. And in this case, he would see that he wasn't personally inconven- ienced. At half past seven in the morning, Mirabelle was already at the breakfast table, and semi- audibly rating Mr. Mix for his slothfulness, when he came in with an odd knitting of his fore- head and an unsteady compression of his mouth. To add to the effect, he placed his feet with stud- ROPE 279 led clumsiness, and as he gave the Herald into Mirabelle 's hands, he uttered a sound which annoyed her. "For the cat's sake, Theodore, what are you groaning about T ' ' "Groan yourself," said Mr. Mix, and put a trembling finger on the headline. As he re- moved the finger, it automatically ceased to tremble. Mr. Mix didn't care two cents for what was in the Herald, but he knew that to Mirabelle it would be a tragedy, and that he was cast for the part of chief mourner. "Well, what's that to groan about? I'd call it a smashing victory just as I did last night. And our being caught only shows " "Rave on," said Mr. Mix lugubriously, and stood with his hands in his pockets, jingling his keys. "Certainly! It shows they meant business. It shows we did. We'll take our own medicine. And the amendment " She broke off sharply; her eyes had strayed back to the smaller type. "Good grief!" said Mirabelle, faintly, and there was silence. Mr. Mix came to look over her shoulder. 280 K P E LEADING REFORMERS ARRESTED FOR VIOLATING OWN PET LAW Police Issue Over 2800 Summonses to Golfers, Pick- nickers, Canoeists, Cyclists, Hikers and Motorists including Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Mix MAYOR PUTS OVER UNIQUE REFERENDUM TO SEE WHAT PEOPLE REALLY WANT Special Meeting of Council Called This Morning Entire City Roused to Fight Blue-Law-Campaign: Mix Amendment Doomed: Ordinance 147 Sure to be Modified Mirabelle collected herself. "What are you standing around gawking like that for? Find out what time that meeting is. Telephone every member of the committee. They won't have any meeting without us, not by a long, long row of apple-trees!" "Save your strength," said Mr. Mix, with a spiritual yawn. "Save my strength! Well, what about sav- ing my five thousand dollars for for mission- ary work!" E P E 281 "The missionary fund," said Mr. Mix, "seems to have fallen among cannibals. Save your energy, my dear. This isn't reform; it's elementary politics, and Rowland's used the steam-roller. As a matter of fact, we're stronger than we were before. If they 'd passed my amendment, a lot of voters might have said it wouldn't do any good to elect me Mayor; when all my best work was done beforehand. Now I've got a real platform to fight on. And the League '11 have a real fund, won't it? You put up forty or fifty thousand, and we'll stage a Waterloo." "Atfd you can stand there and oh, you coward ! ' ' He shook his head, with new dignity. "No, you're simply lucky Rowland didn't think of it a year ago. If he had, and " Mr. Mix broke off the sentence, and turned pale. "What's the matter, Theodore?" Mr. Mix slumped down as though hit from be- hind. "Mirabelle listen " His voice was strained, and hoarse. "I may have to have some money today four or five thousand " "I haven't got it." 282 E P E He stared at her until she backed away in awe. "You you haven't got four or five thousand ?" Mirabelle began to whimper. "I've been so sure of of August, you know I've spent all Mr. Archer sent me. I " As he stepped forward, Mirabelle retreated. "You've got something of your own, though?" It wasn't an ordinary question, it was an agon- ized appeal. * ' Only a separate trust fund John set up for me before he died fifty thousand dollars I just get the interest sixty dollars a week. ' ' Mr. Mix sat down hard, and his breath- ing was laboured. "Great Jumping Jehoso- phat!" He wet his lips, repeatedly. "Mira- belle listen if they modify that -ordinance so Sunday shows are legal again those other fellows '11 want to buy back their contracts from Henry. There 's only a few weeks but if Henry only raised a thousand dollars he'd be so close to his ten thousand " He reached for a glass of water and drank it, gulping. "Henry '11 see that he's got his eyes open E P E 283 every minute. . . . We've got to cut inside of him. Prevent those fellows from buying their Sunday leases back. Get hold of the man that's the boss of the Exhibitors' Association. Tell him we '11 buy a second option to lease the whole string of theatres for six weeks, subject to our getting a release from Henry. As- if the League wanted 'em or something. Offer a big enough rent so they'll have to accept so they'd get more out of us than if they opened up. Then they can't buy back from Henry and he 's over a thousand short. I know he is. And if you don't do it " His gesture was dra- matic. Mirabelle 's expression, as she wiped her eyes, was a pot-pourri of sentiments. "Humph! Can't say I like the idea much, kind- of too tricky. ' * Mr. Mix played his last card. "Don't the ends justify the means ? You and I 'd be philan- thropists, and Henry " He watched her quiver. "And with a fund such as we'd have, we'd begin all over again, and next time we'd win, wouldn't we?" 284 E P E ' * Theodore. I 've got fifty one hundred in the bank. It has to last 'till August. If you took five thousand more " He snatched at the straw. "You bet I'll take it. It's for insurance. And you telephone to Masonic Hall and see what's left of the three grand you wired *em from " "The what!" "The money you sent from Chicago. Get what's left. Soon as I find out, I'll hustle down town and get busy." Mirabelle wavered. "The Council's going to" Mr. Mix gave her a look which was a throw- back to his cave-man ancestry. "To hell with the Council!" For an instant, her whole being rebelled, and then she saw his eyes. "A-all right," she fal- tered. "I I'll telephone!" Inside of five minutes, she told him that of her loan, there was nothing left at all. The money had been wanted for the two-year rental of a new hall, at 300 Chestnut Street ; the owner had made a marked concession in price for ad- vance payment. E P E 285 " Never mind, then," he rasped. " That's cold turkey. .Give me a check for every nickel you've got. . . . And I'll want the car all day. I want a cup of coffee. And you wait right here until I get word to you what to do next." 11 Couldn't I even" " You stay here ! Far's I know, I'll have you making the rounds of the hock-shops to cash in your jewelry. But " He relaxed slightly. "But when it's for reform, my dear when it's for civilization the League isn 't it worth any sacrifice f ' ' A spark of the old fire burned' in her eyes. "Humph! Good thing one of us has got some- thing to sacrifice, if anybody asked me. But here's your coffee. . . . Don't make such a horrid noise with it, Theodore." At noon, he telephoned her two pieces of news. The Council, fairly swamped with hun- dreds of outraged voters, had promptly modi- fied the existing ordinance, and rejected unanimously the Mix amendment. And Mr. 286 E P E Mix, who had spent three hours in conference, and in battle, had emerged victorious. "Thank Heaven, we're safe! . . . And it only costs thirty-nine hundred. (Five of this was Mr. Mix's self -granted commission.) I've bought a second option on every last house in town. And I'll need the car all afternoon. I've got to run all over everywhere and close these deals. . . . What are you going to do?" "Why," she said with a rueful glance at her check-book. "I guess I'll go down and see how soon I can get that loan back. I'm not used to putting off tradesmen's bills, Theodore. I wasn't brought up to it." CHAPTER XVI NOW after prolonged debate, and a trial of irresistible force (which was Henry's logic) against an immovable body (which was Anna's loyalty), she had finally consented to run up into the country for a week's respite from the hot weather. Before she left, how- ever, she was first sworn to* secrecy, and told of the discovery of the lurking -comma, and of the plan for a militant referendum; she was properly convulsed, but a little later, when her practical instincts had had a chance to assert themselves, she inquired of Henry where there was any benefit to the Orpheum. 'Not a bit,'" he -assured her cheerfully. "Not even in the Council " "Dearest, it doesn't -make the difference of the billionth part of a counterfeit Russian rouble. ' ' She regarded him curiously. "Are you as cheerful as all that just because you're getting 287 288 ROPE back at Mr. Mix I And maybe spoiling his boom for Mayor?" Henry said that he was all as cheerful as that; yea, more so. He was merely snagging the rope which had already been paid out ; and it was glory in his pocket, because so many people before him had found the rope twitched out of their hands. She thought that this indi- cation of a vengeful spirit was out of place in his character, but she forgave it, because at least it was founded on humour. And when he took her to the train, she forgave it on another score, because she realized that not since last autumn had she seen him so funda- mentally boyish and irresponsible. She was glad that so much of his spontaneity had come back to him, but at the same time she was puzzled, for it didn't seem altogether like Henry, as she had analyzed him, to gloat so thoroughly over mere retaliation, humourous or not. On Monday, he met her at the station, and as soon as she saw him, she remarked again the extraordinary uplift of his mood. She had read the Herald, and taken deep enjoyment from K P E 289 it; but Henry had a hundred unpublished inci- dents to tell her, one of them concerned his own escape from possible complications by clos- ing the Orpheum, issuing passes good for the following week; and spending the day in the library of the Citizens Club and in her amuse- ment, and also in her happiness to be back with him, she didn't notice that Henry was driving her to the Orpheum instead of to their apart- ment. * ' Why, what are we stopping here for, dear ? ' ' Henry's laugh had a pronounced overtone. "To meet Mr. Archer. I thought you'd like to be in on it." "In on what?" She caught his arm. "Henry! Has something happened ? Has it?" She stared at him, and as she recognized what might be hidden behind his expression of ex- quisite, unreserved joy, she was almost as frightened as if he had looked despairing in- stead of joyful. "It wasn't settled until last week," he said, still with that wide, speculative smile, like a baby's. "It really wasn't settled until Satur- day. And it won't be positively settled until 290 K P E we've seen Archer. . . . And there he is wait- ing for us ! I couldn *t get him before he was in the country for the week-end." With no clear recollection of how she got there, she was sitting in Henry's tiny office, and Mr. Archer was sitting beside her, and Henry was standing at his desk, pawing over a heap of ledgers and cash-books. To Anna, there was something commanding in his atti- tude, something more of crest than she had ever seen in him, even during the early period of his intrepid youth. And yet she could see, too, that his hands were a trifle unsteady, and that his lips betrayed an immense excitement. "Mr. Archer," he said. "There's no use waiting until the first of the year. Either we've made good by this time, or we never will. Here's the books. They'll show a net profit, including Saturday's deposit, of ten thousand five hundred. " Anna turned weak and faint, and she wanted to laugh and cry in the same breath, but she K P E 291 gripped the arms of her chair, and clung fast to what was left of her poise. If Henry had a miracle to report, Anna must hear it. 1 'It's a matter of interpretation," he went on, with his voice shaking for an instant. "And you're the interpreter. It came up so suddenly last week that I couldn't get hold of you. But I took a chance, anyway. . . . Does a lease count?" The lawyer looked very sober. "A lease!" "Yes. If I leased part of the theatre to somebody, would the income from that count?" During the resultant silence, Anna distinctly heard her own heart beating. She looked at Mr. Archer, and saw that his brows were drawn down, and that his eyes were distant. Fear- fully, she hung on his reply. "That's a delicate question, Henry. You were supposed to make your profit from the operation of the theatre." Henry was tense. "I don't mean if I leased the theatre. I mean if I leased some part of it some part that wouldn't interfere with the show." Anna closed her eyes. Mr. Archer's brows 292 E P E had risen to normal. "Why, in that case, I should certainly say that the income would count, Henry. Let's see the lease?" Anna wished that Henry would come over to her, and hold her in his arms while Mr. Archer, with maddening deliberation, glanced through the long typewritten document but Henry had turned his back, and was gazing out of the window. ' ' Peter McClellan ? What 's he want so much space for 1 ' ' Henry made no response. There was a long hiatus, broken only by the rustling of the pages. "Just a minute, Henry. Some of this is all right and some isn't. The space you mention is what you 're using now for the 0r nursery, I take it. And the privilege of the lessee to enlarge the upper story at his own expense is all right." His brows had gone down again, and Anna shivered. "But even if you've got your whole rental in advance, you aren't entitled to claim all of it belongs to this year's income. As a matter of fact, you actually earn a twenty-fourth of that whole payment every month for twenty-four months." E P E 293 Henry spoke over his shoulder. "You haven't read far enough." ' ' Oh ! " Mr. Archer laughed, but his voice was no lighter. "Why, how on earth did you persuade anybody to execute such an agree- ment as that!" Henry faced around. "Bob Stand^sh engineered it. Told this chap as long as he paid in advance anyway, to get a bargain, it wouldn't make any difference to him, and it made a lot to me. Nine hundred and fifty a month for July and August and fifty a month for the next twenty-two months. ' ' "But my dear boy, you still don't earn more than a twenty fourth of the whole rental each month. That's ordinary book-keeping. I should have thought you'd have learned it. It makes no difference when the lessee pays. All you can credit yourself in July and August is" "Oh, no, Mr. Archer. There's a considera- tion. You'll find it on the next page. I'm to keep the theatre closed every afternoon in July and August so the lessee can make his altera- tions to the second story. And the extra price 294 ROPE for those months is to pay me for loss of revenue. So it does count on this year's in- come. Maybe I'm no impresario, but by gosh, I can keep a set of books/' Mr. Archer nodded briskly. ''That is dif- ferent. "Why, Henry, as far as I can see . . . what's this? 300 Chestnut Street? But the Orpheum's on Main." "300 Chestnut is the back entrance," said Henry. He smiled across at Anna, and she stood up and came a perilous step towards him. "Well, old lady," said Henry, and the same wide, foolish smile of utter joy was on his lips. "I guess this fixes it. I " He was rudely interrupted by the violent opening of the door. His Aunt Mirabelle stood there, dynamic, and behind her, in a great fluster of dismay and apprehension, stood the chairman of the Quarters Committee of the Reform League. "Henry! Henry Devereux! You you swindler!" Her speech was seriously impeded by her wrath. "You you you." She flung a savage gesture towards the little man in the ROPE 295 background. "You had an agent show him show Mr. McClellan this place through the back door! He didn't know I Henry Dever- eux, you've got my three thousand dollars, and you're going to give it straight back to me! This minute! Do you hear?" Anna stared at her, and at Henry, and sat down plump and cried into her handkerchief, from sheer hysterical reaction. "Oh, yes," said Henry. "Through the back door, if you say so. But that's the regular business entrance. I suppose the agent thought it looked better, too." ' ' The agent ! That Standish man ! You con- spired. You " Henry's chin went up. "Excuse me, Aunt Mirabelle, but I didn't know the first thing about it until Bob Standish told me he had a client ready to close, and to pay in advance. I didn't even know your man by sight. I'd have rented it to anybody on earth on the same terms." The little chairman edged forward. "Miss Starkweather Mrs. Mix I knew how you feel 296 E P E about motion pictures, of course, but how could 7 know you wouldn't even want to be in the same building with " "Oh, dry up!" She whirled on the lawyer. "Is that fair? Do you call that fair? Do you?" Mr. Archer put his hand on Henry 'a shoulder, and nodded benignly. "To tell the truth, Mrs. Mix, I can't see where this concerns you per- sonally at all. It's a straightforward commer- cial transaction between Henry and Mr. Mc- Clellan." "It isn't, either! Mr. McClellan had author- ity from the League to get us a hall and sign a lease in his own name. I had the directors give it to him, myself. And it was my money that paid for it! Mine!" Henry grinned at the lawyer. "I didn't know it until last Saturday. Bob told me if I 'd make a dirt-low rent I could get it in advance, and up to Saturday I didn't even know who I was dickering with." His aunt was menacing. "Henry Devereux, if you try to cheat me out of my rightful prop- EOPE 297 erty by any such flim-flam as this, I ... I . . . I don't know what I'll do!" "Oh, don't, Aunt Mirabelle," said Henry compassionately. "You know I won't be a hog about it." Some of the fury went out of her expression, and Mirabelle was on the verge of sniffling. "That's just exactly it. I knoiv you won't. And the humiliation of it to me. When you know perfectly well if I'd " She stopped there, with her mouth wide open. They all waited, courteously, for her to speak, but Mirabelle was speechless. She was think- ing partly of the past, and partly of the future, but chiefly of the present the hideous, unneces- sary present in which Mr. Mix was motoring serenely about the city, paying out good money to theatre managers. Mirabelle *s money, not to be replaced. And thenj she nearly col- lapsed! the unspeakable humiliation of re- tracting her pledge to the national convention. Her pledge through Mr. Mix of twenty-five thousand dollars. How could she ever offer an excuse that would hold water? And how could 298 E P E she tell the truth? And to think of Mr. Mix's place in the community when it was shown as inevitably it would be shown that he had acted merely as a toy balloon, inflated by Mirabelle's vain expectations. " Humph!" she said at length, and her voice was a hoarse, thin whisper. "Well you just wait) 'till I get hold of him!" The door had closed behind her: the door had , been closed behind Mr. Archer, whose kindly congratulations had been the more af- fecting because he had learned to love and re- spect the boy who had won them: Henry and his wife stood gazing into each other's eyes. He took a step forward and held out his arms, and she ran to him, and held tightly to him, and sobbed a little for a postscript. He stroked her hair, gently. "Well Archer says it's going to be about seven hundred thou- sand. And I deserve about thirty cents. And you're responsible for all the rest of it. ... E P E 299 What do you want first? Those golden pheas- ants, or humming-birds ' wings ?' ' She lifted her face. "Both b-because I won't have to cook 'em. Oh, my dear, my dear, I Ve 1-loved it, I Ve loved it, I 've loved working and saving and being poor with you and every- thing b-but look at my h-hands, Henry, and don't laugh at me but I'm going to have a cook! I'm going to have a cook! I'm going to have a cook!" He kissed her hands. "It's all over, isn't it? All over, and we're doing the shouting. No more wild men of Borneo, no more dishes to wash, no more Or- pheum. Remember what Aunt Mirabelle said a year ago? She was dead right. Look! See the writing on the wall, baby?" He swung her towards the door ! she brushed away her tears, and beheld the writing. It was in large red letters, and what it said was very brief and very appropriate. It said: EXIT. CHAPTER XVII IN the living-room of an unfashionable house on an unfashionable street, Mrs. Theodore Mix sat in stately importance at her desk, com- posing a vitriolic message to the unsympathetic world. As her husband entered, she glanced up at him with chronic disapproval; she was on the point of giving voice to it, not for any spe- cific reason but on general principles, but Mr. Mix had learned something from experience, so his get-away was almost simultaneous with his entrance. "Mail!" said Mr. Mix, and on the wing, he dropped it on his wife's desk, and went on out of the room. The mail consisted of one letter; it contained the check which Henry sent her regularly, on the first of each month. She sat back for a moment, and stared out at the unfashionable street. Mr. Mix was al- ways urging her to live in a better neighbour- 300 ROPE 301 hood, but with only her own two hundred and fifty a month, and four hundred more from Henry, she could hardly afford it, certainly not while she gave so generously to the Eef orm League. She thought of the big brick house on the hill and sighed profoundly. She would have made it a national shrine, and Henry Henry was even worse than his uncle. He kept it full of people who were satisfied to squander the precious stuff of life by enjoying themselves. It made her sick, simply to think of Henry. People said he and Bob Standish were the two cleverest men that ever lived in town. Doubled the Starkweather business in two years. Di- rectors of banks. Directors of the Associated Charities and trustees of the City Hospital. Humph! As if she didn't know Henry's capa- bilities. Just flippancy and monkey-tricks. And married to a girl who was a walking ad- vertisement of exactly what every right-minded woman should revolt against. That girl to be the mother of children! Oh Lord, oh Lord, if Anna were a modern specimen, what would the next generation be?" 302 ROPE She sighed again, and went back to the lec- ture she was composing. "The Influence of Dress on Modern Society/' Suddenly, she cocked her head and sniffed. She rose cau- tiously, as one who is about to trail suspicion. She went to the side-window, and peered out. From a little grape-arbor on the lawn, there floated to her the unmistakable odour of to- bacco yes, and she could see a curling wisp of smoke. "Theodore!" A pause. "Yes, dear." Mr. Mix's voice had taken on, some months ago, a permanent quality of langour; and never, since the day that he was laughed out of politics, had he re- gained his former dignity and impressiveness. "Is that you smoking again?" "Why" "Are you? Answer me." "Why yes, dear I " "Come in here this minute." Mr. Mix emerged from the arbor. "Yes, dear?" She brandished her forefinger at him. "I told you what would happen next time I caught E P E 303 you. Not one single cent do you get out of me for many a long day, young man. . . . Come in here; I want you to listen to what I've writ- ten." Mr. Mix's shoulders sagged, but he didn't stop to argue. "Yes, dear," he said, pacifi- cally. "I'm coming." THE END UC SOUTHERN REGJONALUBRARY FACILITY A 000 111 012 1