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 c
 
 Mr. Achilles
 
 BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 Kate Witherill 
 
 A Pillar of Salt 
 
 The Son of A Fiddler 
 
 Simeon Tetlow s Shadow 
 
 Uncle William 
 
 Happy Island
 
 Copyright, 1907 by Harper & Brothers 
 
 He flung the words from him like a chant of 
 music (page 20)
 
 Mr. Achilles 
 
 By 
 
 Jennette Lee 
 
 Author of 
 "Uncle William," "Happy Island," etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 New York 
 Dodd, Mead and Company
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1912, 
 BY JENNETTE LEE. 
 
 Published, September, 1912.
 
 To 
 GERALD STANLEY LEE 
 
 To keep the youth of souls who pitch 
 Their joy in this old heart of things; 
 
 Full lasting is the song, though he. 
 The singer, passes; lasting too, 
 For souls not lent in usury, 
 The rapture of the forward viewv*
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTBE PAGE 
 
 I ACHILLES GOES TO CHICAGO ... 1 
 
 II A BUTTERFLY SPREADS ITS WINGS . 13 
 
 III BETTY S MOTHER HEARS A STORY . 26 
 
 IV AND ACHILLES DREAMS .... 35 
 V THE GREEK PROFESSOR LAUGHS . . 39 
 
 VI ACHILLES CALLS ON BETTY HARRIS . 44 
 
 VII To MEET "THE HALCYON CLUB" . . 56 
 
 VIII AND GIVE A SIMPLE LECTURE ... 60 
 
 IX BETTY LEAVES HER GODS .... 70 
 
 X FOR A LONG DRIVE 79 
 
 XI Two MEN FACE EACH OTHEE . . 88 
 
 XII THE TELEPHONE SPEAKS .... 96 
 
 XIII EVERYONE MUST PAY 101 
 
 XIV THE PRICE ACHILLES PAYS . . . 107 
 XV THE POLICE MOVE 113 
 
 XVI A CLUE GOES TO SLEEP .... 121 
 
 XVII PHILIP HARRIS WAKES UP . . . 125 
 
 XVIII "ONCE I SAW " 131 
 
 XIX A WOMAN IN THE GARDEN ... 136 
 
 XX THE TEST is MADE 145 
 
 XXI A CONNOISSEUR SPEAKS .... 152 
 
 XXII "WHAT DID You SEE?" . . . . 162 
 
 XXIII ACHILLES HAS A PLAN 168
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXIV IT FLOATS A LITTLE 175 
 
 XXV AND STABTS OFF 182 
 
 XXVI AND RACES FOB THE CLUE . . . 187 
 
 XXVII THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE ... 192 
 
 XXVIII INSIDE THE LITTLE HOUSE ... 199 
 
 XXIX UPSTAIBS 21t 
 
 XXX ASLEEP 213 
 
 XXXI A BUTTEBFLY FLIGHT 217 
 
 XXXII AND A VOICE 224 
 
 XXXIII "WAKE UP, MBS. SEABUBT!" . . 227 
 
 XXXIV THE FLIGHT OF STABS .... 234 
 XXXV AND CLANGING CABS 247 
 
 XXXVI THE TELEPHONE AGAIN .... 252 
 
 XXXVII THE BIG BED 257
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 He flung the words from him like a 
 
 chant of music Frontispiece 
 
 "They are two children together" . Facing page 52 
 
 Philip Harris enjoyed it as if he were playing 
 
 with the stock exchange of a world . . 128 
 
 "It is Betty my little girl" ... ...... 158
 
 Mr. Achilles
 
 ACHILLES GOES TO CHICAGO 
 
 ACHILLES ALEXANDRAKIS was arranging 
 the fruit on his stall in front of his lit 
 tle shop on Clark Street. It was a 
 clear, breezy morning, cool for October, 
 but not cold enough to endanger the 
 fruit that Achilles handled so deftly in 
 his dark, slender fingers. As he built 
 the oranges into their yellow pyramid 
 and grouped about them figs and dates, 
 melons and pears, and grapes and pine 
 apples, a look of content held his face. 
 This was the happiest moment of his 
 day. 
 
 Already, half an hour ago, Alcibiades 
 and Yaxis had departed with their push 
 carts, one to the north and one to the 
 south, calling antiphonally as they went, 
 in clear, high voices that came faint 
 er and fainter to Achilles among his 
 fruit.
 
 2 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 They would not return until night, and 
 then they would come with empty carts, 
 and jingling in their pockets coppers and 
 nickels and dimes. The breath of a sigh 
 escaped Achilles s lips as he stood back 
 surveying the stall. Something very 
 like homesickness was in his heart. He 
 had almost fancied for the minute that 
 he was back once more in Athens. He 
 raised his eyes and gave a quick, deep 
 glance up and down the street soot and 
 dirt and grime, frowning buildings and 
 ugly lines, and overhead a meagre strip 
 of sky. Over Athens the sky hung 
 glorious, a curve of light from side to 
 side. His soul flew wide to meet it. 
 Once more he was swinging along the 
 1 Street of the Winds," his face lifted 
 to the Parthenon on its Acropolis, his 
 nostrils breathing the clear air. 
 Chicago had dropped from him like a 
 garment, his soul rose and floated. . . . 
 Athens everywhere column and cor 
 nice, and long, delicate lines, and colour 
 of marble and light. He drew a full, 
 sweet breath.
 
 ACHILLES GOES TO CHICAGO 3 
 
 "How much for them peaches?" 
 
 Achilles s eye returned from Athens; 
 it dropped through grey soot. "Five 
 cen s," he said, dreamily. 
 
 The young woman s back was turned 
 to him. She was hurrying on. 
 
 "You no want them?" said Achilles, 
 gently. 
 
 There was no reply. The young 
 woman was gone. 
 
 Achilles sighed a little and picked up 
 the basket beside him and entered the 
 little shop. It was darker within, 
 darker than in the street. The light 
 came, almost grudgingly, through the 
 open window and door; and only the 
 glowing yellow disks of oranges and 
 lemons and grapefruit relieved its 
 gloom. Achilles placed the basket care 
 fully on a side shelf and turned once 
 more to the street. A man had paused 
 before the stall, looking down. Achilles 
 hastened to the door, welcome in his 
 dark face. 
 
 The man looked up. There was a 
 deep line between his eyes. It focussed
 
 4 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 the piercing glance. How much for 
 your melons ?" 
 
 Achilles moved forward with quick, 
 stately step. He wore a seersucker 
 coat and black cotton trousers, but for 
 the moment he had forgotten that his 
 garments did not float a little as he 
 moved. He ran a hand along the 
 smooth, green, crinkling stripes of the 
 melon. "Thirty-five, these forty, these 
 ones," he said, courteously. 
 
 The man lifted an eye. Got a paper 
 for the address? I want them sent." 
 
 "I take in my haid," said Achilles, 
 with clear glance. 
 
 The man hesitated a second. "All 
 right. Don t forget; 1383 Sheridan 
 Road. Send four. They ll pay when 
 you deliver." 
 
 "I send right off," said Achilles, 
 cheerfully. "I pick you nice ones. 
 Good day, sir." 
 
 But the man was gone without re 
 sponse far down the street, and the 
 crowd was shoving past. The day had 
 begun. In and out of the gloomy shop
 
 ACHILLES GOES TO CHICAGO 5 
 
 Achilles moved with quick, gliding step, 
 taking orders, filling bags, making 
 change always with his dark eyes seek 
 ing, a little wistfully, something that did 
 not come to them. ... It was all so dif 
 ferent this new world. Achilles had 
 been in Chicago six months now, but 
 he had not yet forgotten a dream that 
 he had dreamed in Athens. Sometimes 
 he dreamed it still, and then he wondered 
 whether this, about him, were not all 
 a dream this pushing, scrambling, 
 picking, hurrying, choosing crowd, drop 
 ping pennies and dimes into his curv 
 ing palm, swearing softly at slow 
 change, and flying fast from street to 
 street. It was not thus in his dream. 
 He had seen a land of new faces, turned 
 eyer to the West, with the light on them. 
 He had known them, in his dream 
 eager faces, full of question and quick 
 response. His soul had gone out to 
 them and, musing in sunny Athens, he 
 had made ready for them. Each morn 
 ing when he rose he had lifted his glance 
 to the Parthenon, studying anew the
 
 6 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 straight lines that were yet not straight 
 the mysterious, dismantled beauty, the 
 mighty lift of its presence. When they 
 should question him, in this new land, 
 he must not fail them. They would be 
 hungry for the beauty of the ancient 
 world they who had no ruins of their 
 own. He knew in his heart how it 
 would be with them the homesick 
 ness for the East all its wonder and 
 its mystery. Yes, he would carry 
 it to them. He, Achilles Alexandrakis, 
 should not be found wanting. This new 
 world was to give him money, wealth, 
 better education for his boys, a com 
 petent old age. But he, too, had some 
 thing to give in exchange. He must 
 make himself ready against the great 
 day when he should travel down the 
 long way of the Piraeus, for the last time, 
 and set sail for America. 
 
 He was in America now. He knew, 
 when he stopped to think, that this was 1 
 not a dream. He had been here six 
 months, in the little shop on Clark 
 Street, but no one had yet asked him
 
 ACHILLES GOES TO CHICAGO 7 
 
 of the Parthenon. Sometimes he 
 thought that they did not know that he 
 was Greek. Perhaps if they knew that 
 he had been in Athens, had lived there 
 all his life from a boy, they would ques 
 tion him. The day that he first thought 
 of this, he had ordered a new sign 
 painted. It bore his name in Greek 
 characters, and it was beautiful in line 
 and colour. It caused his stand to be 
 come known far and wide as the Greek 
 Shop," and within a month after it was 
 put up his trade had doubled but no 
 one had asked about the Parthenon. 
 
 He had really ceased to hope for it 
 now. He only dreamed the dream, a lit 
 tle wistfully, as he went in and out, and 
 his thought dwelt always on Athens and 
 her beauty. The images stamped so 
 carefully on his sensitive brain became 
 his most precious treasures. Over and 
 over he dwelt on them. Ever in mem 
 ory his feet climbed the steps to the 
 Acropolis or walked beneath stately 
 orange-trees, beating a soft rhythm to 
 the sound of flute and viol. For Achil-
 
 8 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 les was by nature one of the lightest- 
 hearted of children. In Athens his 
 laugh had been quick to rise, and fresh 
 as the breath of rustling leaves. It 
 was only here, under the sooty sky of 
 the narrow street, that his face had 
 grown a little sad. 
 
 At first the days had been full of 
 hope, and the face of each newcomer 
 had been scanned with eager eyes. The 
 fruit, sold so courteously and freely, 
 was hardly more than an excuse for the 
 opening of swift talk. But the talk had 
 never come. There was the inevitable 
 and never-varying, "How much?" the 
 passing of coin, and hurrying feet. 
 Soon a chill had crept into the heart of 
 Achilles. They did not ask of Athens. 
 They did not know that he was Greek. 
 They did not care that his name was 
 Achilles. They did not see him stand 
 ing there with waiting eyes. He might 
 have been a banana on its stem, a fig- 
 leaf against the wall, the dirt that grit 
 ted beneath their feet, for all that their 
 eyes took note. . . . Yet they were not
 
 ACHILLES GOES TO CHICAGO 9 
 
 cruel or thoughtless. Sometimes there 
 came a belated response half sur 
 prised, but cordial to his gentle "good 
 day." Sometimes a stranger said, 
 "The day is warm," or, "The breeze 
 from the Lake is cool to-day." Then 
 the eyes of Achilles glowed like soft 
 stars in their places. Surely now they 
 would speak. They would say, "Is it 
 thus in Greece?" But they never 
 spoke. And the days hurried their 
 swift feet through the long, dirty 
 streets. 
 
 A tall woman in spectacles was com 
 ing toward him, sniffing the air a little 
 as she moved. "Have you got any 
 bananas f 
 
 "Yes. They nice." He led the way 
 into the shop and reached to the swing 
 ing bunch. "You like some?" he said, 
 encouragingly. 
 
 She sniffed a step nearer. "Too 
 ripe," decisively. 
 
 "Yes-s. But here and here " He 
 twirled the bunch skilfully on its string. 
 "These not ripe, and these." His
 
 10 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 sunny smile spread their gracious ac- 
 ceptableness before her. 
 
 She wrinkled her forehead at them. 
 "Well you might as well cut me off 
 six." 
 
 "A pleasure, madame." He had 
 seized the heavy knife. 
 
 "Give me that one." It was a large 
 one near the centre; "and this one 
 here and here." 
 
 When the six were selected and cut 
 off they were the cream of the bunch. 
 She eyed them doubtfully, still scowl 
 ing a little. "Yes. I ll take these." 
 
 The Greek bowed gravely over the 
 coin she droppd into his palm. 
 "Thank you, madame." 
 
 It was later now, and the crowd 
 moved more slowly, with longer pauses 
 between the buyers. 
 
 A boy with a bag of books stopped 
 for an apple. Two children with their 
 nurse halted a moment, looking at the 
 glowing fruit. The eyes of the chil 
 dren were full of light and question. 
 Somewhere in their depths Achilles
 
 ACHILLES GOES TO CHICAGO 11 
 
 caught a flitting shadow of the Parthe 
 non. Then the nurse hurried them on, 
 and they, too, were gone. 
 
 He turned away with a little sigh, ar 
 ranging the fruit in his slow absent 
 way. Something at the side of the stall 
 caught his eye, a little movement along 
 the board, in and out through the colour 
 and leaves. He lifted a leaf to see. It 
 was a green and black caterpillar, 
 crawling with stately hunch to the back 
 of the stall. Achilles watched him with 
 gentle eyes. Then he leaned over, the 
 stall and reached out a long finger. 
 The caterpillar, poised in midair, re 
 mained swaying back and forth above 
 the dark obstruction. Slowly it de 
 scended and hunched itself anew along 
 the finger. It travelled up the motion 
 less hand and reached the sleeve. With 
 a smile on his lips Achilles entered the 
 shop. Pie took down an empty fig-box 
 and transferred the treasure to its 
 depths, dropping in after it one or two 
 leaves and a bit of twig. He fitted the 
 lid to the box, leaving a little air, and
 
 12 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 taking the pen from his desk, wrote 
 across the side in clear Greek letters 
 "neraloDSa." Then he placed the box on 
 the shelf behind him, where the wet ink 
 of the lettering glistened faintly in the 
 light. It was a bit of the heart of Ath 
 ens prisoned there; and many times, 
 through the cold and snow and bitter 
 sleet of that winter, Achilles took down 
 the fig-box and peered into its depths 
 at a silky bit of grey cradle swung from 
 the side of the box by its delicate bands.
 
 n 
 
 A BUTTERFLY SPREADS ITS WINGS 
 
 IT happened, on a Wednesday in May, 
 that Madame Lewandowska was ill. 
 So ill that when Betty Harris, with her 
 demure music-roll in her hand, tapped 
 at the door of Madame Lewandowska s 
 studio, she found no one within. 
 
 On ordinary days this would not have 
 mattered, for the governess, Miss Stone, 
 would have been with her, and they 
 would have gone shopping or sightsee 
 ing until the hour was up and James 
 returned. But to-day Miss Stone, too, 
 was ill, James had departed with the 
 carriage, and Betty Harris found her 
 self standing, music-roll in hand, at the 
 door of Madame Lewandowska s studio 
 alone in the heart of Chicago for the 
 first time in the twelve years of her life. 
 
 It had been a very carefully guarded 
 life, with nurses and servants and in- 
 
 13
 
 14 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 structors. No little princess was ever 
 more sternly and conscientiously reared 
 than little Betty Harris, of Chicago. 
 For her tiny sake, herds of cattle were 
 slaughtered every day; and all over the 
 land hoofs and hides and by-products 
 and soap-factories lifted themselves to 
 heaven for Betty Harris. If anything 
 were to happen to her, the business of 
 a dozen States would quiver to the core. 
 She tapped the marble floor softly 
 with her foot and pondered. She 
 might sit here in the hall and wait for 
 James a whole hour. There was a 
 bench by the wall. She looked at it 
 doubtfully. ... It was not seemly that 
 a princess should sit waiting for a serv 
 ant not even in marble halls. She 
 glanced about her again. There was 
 probably a telephone somewhere per 
 haps on the ground floor. She could tel 
 ephone home and they would send an 
 other carriage. Yes, that would be 
 best. She rang the elevator bell and 
 descended in stately silence. When 
 she stepped out of the great door
 
 A BUTTERFLY SPREADS ITS WIXGS 15 
 
 of the building she saw, straight be 
 fore her, the sign she sought "Pay 
 Station." 
 
 But then something happened to 
 Betty Harris. The spirit of the spring 
 day caught her and lifted her out of her 
 self. Men were hurrying by with light 
 step. Little children laughed as they 
 ran. Betty skipped a few steps and 
 laughed softly with them. . . . She 
 would walk home. It was not far. She 
 had often walked as far in the country, 
 and she knew the way quite well. . . . 
 And when she looked up again, she 
 stood in front of the glowing fruit-stall, 
 and Achilles Alexandrakis was regard 
 ing her with deep, sad eyes. 
 
 Achilles had been dreaming down the 
 street when the little figure came in 
 sight. His heart all day had been full 
 of sadness for the spring in the air. 
 And all day Athens had haunted his 
 steps the Athens of dreams. Once 
 when he had retired into the dark, cool 
 shop, he brushed his sleeve across his 
 eyes, and then he had stood looking
 
 16 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 down in surprise at something that glis 
 tened on its worn surface. 
 
 Betty Harris looked at him and 
 smiled. She had been so carefully 
 brought up that she had not learned that 
 some people were her inferiors and 
 must not be smiled at. She gave him 
 the straight, sweet smile that those who 
 had cared for her all her life loved so 
 well. Then she gave a little nod. 
 "I m walking home," she said. 
 
 Achilles leaned forward a little, al 
 most holding his breath lest she float 
 from him. It was the very spirit of 
 Athens democratic, cultured, naive. 
 He gave her the salute of his country. 
 She smiled again. Then her eye fell on 
 the tray of pomegranates near the edge 
 of the stall round and pink. She 
 reached out a hand. "I have never 
 seen these," she said, slowly. "What 
 are they?" 
 
 "Pomegranates Yes you like 
 some? I give you." 
 
 He disappeared into the shop and 
 Betty followed him, looking about with
 
 A BUTTERFLY SPREADS ITS WINGS 17 
 
 clear, interested eyes. It was like no 
 place she had ever seen this cool, dark 
 room, with its tiers on tiers of fruit, and 
 the fragrant, spicy smell, and the man 
 with the sad, kind face. Her quick eye 
 paused arrested by the word printed 
 on a box on the shelf to the right. . . . 
 Ah, that was it! She knew now quite 
 well. He was a Greek man. She 
 knew the letters ; she had studied Greek 
 for six months; but she did not know 
 
 this word "jr-e-r-a-A " She was. 
 
 still spelling it out when Achilles re 
 turned with the small box of pomegran 
 ates in his hand. 
 
 She looked up slowly. "I can t quite 
 make it out," she said. 
 
 "That?" Achilles s face was alight. 
 "That is Greek." 
 
 She nodded. "I know. I study it; 
 but what is it the word?" 
 
 "The word? Ah, yes, it is How 
 you say? You shall see." 
 
 He reached out a hand to the box. 
 But the child stopped him. A quick 
 thought had come to her. "You have
 
 18 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 been in Athens, haven t you? I want 
 to ask you something, please." 
 
 The hand dropped from the box. 
 The man turned about, waiting. If 
 heaven were to open to him now ! 
 
 "I ve always wanted to see a Greek 
 man," said the child, slowly, "a real 
 Greek man. I ve wanted to ask him 
 something he would know about. Have 
 you ever seen the Parthenon?" She 
 put the question with quaint serious 
 ness. 
 
 A light came into the eyes of Achil 
 les Alexandrakis. It flooded the 
 room. 
 
 You ask me the Parthenon?" he 
 said, solemnly. "You wish me tell 
 that?" It was wistful almost a cry 
 of longing. 
 
 Betty Harris nodded practically. 
 "I ve always wanted to know about it 
 the Parthenon. They tell you how long 
 it is, and how wide, and what it is 
 made of, and who began it, and who fin 
 ished it, and who destroyed it, but they 
 never, never" she raised her small
 
 A BUTTERFLY SPREADS ITS WINGS 19 
 
 hand impressively "they never tell 
 you how it looks!" 
 
 Achilles brought a chair and placed it 
 near the open door. "Will it kindly 
 you sit!" he said, gravely. 
 
 She seated herself, folding her hands 
 above the music-roll, and lifting her 
 eyes to the dark face looking down at 
 her. "Thank you." 
 
 Achilles leaned back against the coun 
 ter, thinking a little. He sighed gen 
 tly. "I tell you many things," he said 
 at last. 
 
 "About the Parthenon, please," said 
 Betty Harris. 
 
 "You like Athens?" He said it like 
 a child. 
 
 "I should like it if they would tell 
 me real things. I don t seem to make 
 them understand. But when they say 
 how beautiful it is I feel it here." 
 She laid her small hand to her side. 
 
 The smile of Achilles held glory in its 
 depths. "I tell you," he said. 
 
 The clear face reflected the smile. A 
 breath of waiting held the lips. "Yes. *
 
 20 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Achilles leaned again upon his coun 
 ter. His face was rapt, and he spread 
 his finger-tips a little, as if something 
 within them stirred to be free. 
 
 "It stands so high and lifts itself" 
 Achilles raised his dark hands 
 "ruined there so great and far be 
 neath, the city lies, drawing near and 
 near, and yet it cannot reach. . . . And 
 all around is light and light and 
 light. Here it is a cellar"- his hands 
 closed in with crushing touch "but 
 there !" He flung the words from 
 him like a chant of music, and a sky 
 stretched about them from side to side, 
 blue as sapphire and shedding radiant 
 light upon the city in its midst a city 
 of fluted column and curving cornice 
 and temple and arch and tomb. The 
 words rolled on, fierce and eager. It 
 was a song of triumph, with war and 
 sorrow and mystery running beneath 
 the sound of joy. And the child, listen 
 ing with grave, clear eyes, smiled a lit 
 tle, holding her breath. "I see it I 
 see it I" She half whispered the words.
 
 A BUTTERFLY SPREADS ITS WINGS 21 
 
 Achilles barely looked at her. "You 
 see ah, yes you see. But I I have 
 not words ! " It was almost a cry. . . . 
 "The air, so clear like wine and the 
 pillars straight and high and big but 
 light light reaching. ..." His soul 
 was among them, soaring high. Then 
 it returned to earth and he remembered 
 the child. 
 
 "And there is an olive-tree," he said, 
 kindly, "and a well where Poseidon " 
 
 "I ve heard about the well and the 
 olive-tree," said the child; "I don t 
 care so much about them. But all the 
 rest She drew a quick breath. "It 
 is very beautiful. I knew it would be. 
 I knew it would be!" 
 
 There was silence in the room. 
 
 "Thank you for telling me," said 
 Betty Harris. "Now I must go." 
 She slipped from the chair with a little 
 sigh. She stood looking about the dim 
 shop. "Now I must go," she repeated, 
 wistfully. 
 
 Achilles moved a step toward the 
 shelf. "Yes but wait I will show
 
 22 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 you." He reached up to the box and 
 took it down lightly. I show you." 
 He was removing the cover. 
 
 The child leaned forward with shin 
 ing eyes. 
 
 A smile came into the dark, grave 
 face looking into the box. "Ah, he has 
 blossomed for you." He held it out 
 to her. 
 
 She took it in shy fingers, bending to 
 it. "It is beautiful," she said, softly. 
 Yes--beautiful!" 
 
 The dark wings, with shadings of 
 gold and tender blue, lifted themselves 
 a little, waiting. 
 
 The child looked up. "May I touch 
 it?" she asked. 
 
 "Ye& But why not!" 
 
 The dark head was bent close to hers, 
 watching the wonderful wings. 
 
 Slowly Betty Harris put out a finger 
 and stroked the wings. 
 
 They fluttered a little opened wide 
 and rose in their first flutter of light. 
 
 "Oh!" It was a cry of delight from 
 the child.
 
 A BUTTERFLY SPREADS ITS WINGS 23 
 
 The great creature had settled on the 
 bunch of bananas and hung swaying. 
 The gold and blue wings opened and 
 closed slowly. 
 
 Achilles drew near and put out a fin 
 ger. 
 
 The butterfly was on it. 
 
 He held it toward her, smiling gently, 
 and she reached up, her very breath on 
 tiptoe. A little smile curved her lips, 
 quick and wondering, as the transfer 
 was made, thread by thread, till the gor 
 geous thing rested on her own palm. 
 
 She looked up. "What shall I do 
 with it?" It was a shining whisper. 
 
 Achilles s eyes sought the door. 
 
 They moved toward it slowly, light 
 as breath. 
 
 In the open doorway they paused. 
 Above the tall buildings the grey rim of 
 sky lifted itself. The child looked up 
 to it. Her eyes returned to Achilles. 
 
 He nodded gravely. 
 
 She raised her hand with a little 
 "p-f-f " it was half a quick laugh and 
 half a sigh.
 
 24 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 The wings fluttered free, and rose, 
 and faltered, and rose again high and 
 higher, between the dark walls up to 
 the sky, into the grey and through. 
 
 The eyes that had followed it came 
 back to earth. They looked at each 
 other and smiled gravely two children 
 who had seen a happy thing. 
 
 The child stood still with half-lifted 
 hand. ... A carriage drove quickly 
 into the street. The little hand was 
 lifted higher. It was a regal gesture 
 the return of the princess to earth. 
 
 James touched his hat a look of dis 
 may and relief battling in his face as 
 he turned the horses sharply to the 
 right. They paused in front of the 
 stall, their hoofs beating dainty time to 
 the coursing of their blood. 
 
 Achilles eyed them lovingly. The 
 spirit of Athens dwelt in their arching 
 necks. 
 
 He opened the door for the child with 
 the quiet face and shining eyes. 
 Gravely he salaamed as she entered the 
 carriage.
 
 A BUTTERFLY SPREADS ITS WINGS 25 
 
 Through the window she held out a 
 tiny hand. "I hope you will come and 
 see me," she said. 
 
 "Yes, I come," said Achilles, simply. 
 "I like to come." 
 
 James dropped a waiting eye. 
 
 "Home, James." 
 
 The horses sprang away. Achilles 
 Alexandrakis, bareheaded in the spring 
 sunshine, watched the carriage till it 
 was out of sight. Then he turned once 
 more to the stall and rearranged the 
 fruit. The swift fingers laughed a lit 
 tle as they worked, and the eyes of 
 Achilles were filled with light.
 
 m 
 
 MOTHER-DEAR!" It was the voice of 
 Betty Harris eager, triumphant, with 
 a little laugh running through it. 
 " Mother-dear!" 
 
 "Yes Betty " The woman seated 
 at the dark mahogany desk looked up, 
 a little line between her eyes. You 
 have come, child?" It was half a ca 
 ress. She put out an absent hand, 
 drawing the child toward her while she 
 finished her note. 
 
 The child stood by gravely, looking 
 with shining eyes at the face bending 
 above the paper. It was a handsome 
 face with clear, hard lines the reddish 
 hair brushed up conventionally from 
 the temples, and the skin a little pallid 
 under its careful massage and skilfully 
 touched surface. 
 
 To Betty Harris her mother was the
 
 BETTY S MOTHER HEARS A STORY 27 
 
 most beautiful woman in the world 
 more beautiful than the marble Venus 
 at the head of the long staircase, or the 
 queenly lady in the next room, forever 
 stepping down from her gilded frame 
 into the midst of tapestry and leather 
 in the library. It may have been that 
 Betty s mother was quite as much a 
 work of art in her way as these other 
 treasures that had come from the Old 
 World. But to Betty Harris, who had 
 slight knowledge of art values, her 
 mother was beautiful, because her eyes 
 had little points of light in them that 
 danced when she laughed, and her lips 
 curved prettily, like a bow, if she 
 smiled. 
 
 They curved now as she looked up 
 from her note. "Well, daughter?" 
 She had sealed the note and laid it one 
 side. "Was it a good lesson?" She 
 leaned back in her chair, stroking the 
 child s hand softly, while her eyes trav 
 elled over the quaint, dignified little fig 
 ure. The child was a Velasquez peo 
 ple had often remarked it, and the
 
 28 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 mother had taken the note that gave to 
 her clothes the regal air touched with 
 simplicity. "So it was a good lesson, 
 was it?" she repeated, absently, as she 
 stroked the small dark hand her own 
 figure graciously outlined as she leaned 
 back enjoying the lifted face and 
 straight, clear eyes. 
 
 "Mother-dear!" The child s voice 
 vibrated with the intensity behind it. 
 "I have seen a man a very good 
 man!" 
 
 "Yes?" There was a little laugh in 
 the word. She was accustomed to the 
 child s enthusiasms. Yet they were al 
 ways new to her even the old ones 
 were. "Who was he, daughter this 
 very good man?" 
 
 "He is a Greek, mother with a long, 
 beautiful name I don t think I can tell 
 it to you. But he is most wonderful ! 
 The child spread her hands and drew a 
 deep breath. 
 
 "More wonderful than father?" It 
 was an idle, laughing question while 
 she studied the lifted-up face.
 
 BETTY S MOTHER HEARS A STORY 29 
 
 "More wonderful than father 
 yes The child nodded gravely. 
 "I can t quite tell you, mother-dear, 
 how it feels She laid a tiny hand 
 on her chest. Her eyes were full of 
 thought. "He speaks like music, and 
 he loves things oh, very much ! 
 
 "I see And did Madame Lewan- 
 dowska introduce you to him?" 
 
 "Oh, it was not there." The child s 
 face cleared with a swift thought. "I 
 didn t tell you Madame was ill " 
 
 The reclining figure straightened a 
 little in its place, but the face was still 
 smiling. "So you and Miss Stone 
 
 "But Miss Stone is ill, mother-dear. 
 Did you forget her toothache?" The 
 tone was politely reproachful. 
 
 The woman was very erect now her 
 small eyes, grown wide, gazing at the 
 child, devouring her. "Betty! Where 
 have you been?" It was more a cry 
 than a question a cry of dismay, run 
 ning swiftly toward terror. ... It was 
 the haunting fear of her life that Betty 
 would some day be kidnapped, as the
 
 30 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 child next door had been. . . . The fin 
 gers resting on the arm of the chair 
 were held tense. 
 
 "I don t think I did wrong, mother." 
 The child was looking at her very 
 straight, as if answering a challenge. 
 "You see, I walked home 
 
 "Where was James?" The woman s 
 tone was sharp, and her hand reached 
 toward the bell; but the child s hand 
 moved softly toward it. 
 
 "I d like to tell you about it myself, 
 please, mother. James never waits for 
 the lessons. I don t think he was to 
 blame. 
 
 The woman s eyes were veiled with 
 sudden mist. She drew the child close. 
 "Tell mother about it." 
 
 Betty Harris looked down, stroking 
 her mother s sleeve. A little smile of 
 memory held her lips. "He was a beau 
 tiful man!" she said. 
 
 The mother waited, breathless. 
 
 "I was walking home, and I came to 
 his shop 
 
 "To his shop!"
 
 BETTY S MOTHER HEARS A STORY 31 
 
 She nodded reassuringly. "His 
 fruit-shop and oh, I forgot " She 
 reached into the little bag at her side, 
 tugging at something. "He gave me 
 these." She produced the round box 
 and took off the lid, looking into it with 
 pleased eyes. "Aren t they beauti 
 ful?" 
 
 The mother bent blindly to it. 
 "Pomegranates," she said. Her lips 
 were still a little white, but they smiled 
 bravely with the child s pleasure. 
 
 "Pomegranates," said Betty, nod 
 ding. "That is what he called 
 them. I should like to taste one " 
 She was looking at them a little wist 
 fully. 
 
 "We will have them for luncheon," 
 said the mother. She had touched the 
 bell with quick decision. 
 
 "Marie" she held out the box 
 "tell Nesmer to serve these with lunch 
 eon." 
 
 "Am I to have luncheon with you, 
 mother-dear?" The child s eyes were 
 on her mother s face.
 
 82 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 "With me yes." The reply was 
 prompt if a little tremulous. 
 
 The child sighed happily. "It is be 
 ing a marvellous day," she said, 
 quaintly. 
 
 The mother smiled. "Come and get 
 ready for luncheon, and then you shall 
 tell me about the wonderful man." 
 
 So it came about that Betty Harris, 
 seated across the dark, shining table, 
 told her mother, Mrs. Philip Harris, a 
 happy adventure wherein she, Betty 
 Harris, who had never before set foot 
 unattended in the streets of Chicago, 
 had wandered for an hour and more in 
 careless freedom, and straying at last 
 into the shop of a marvellous Greek- 
 one Achilles Alexandrakis by name 
 had heard strange tales of Greece and 
 Athens and the Parthenon tales at the 
 very mention of which her eyes danced 
 and her voice rippled. 
 
 And her mother, listening across the 
 table, trembled at the dangers the child 
 touched upon and flitted past. It had 
 been part of the careful rearing of
 
 BETTY S MOTHER HEARS A STORY 33 
 
 Betty Harris that she should not guess 
 that the constant attendance upon her 
 was a body-guard such as might wait 
 upon a princess. It had never occurred 
 to Betty Harris that other little girls 
 were not guarded from the moment they 
 rose in the morning till they went to bed 
 at night, and that even at night Miss 
 Stone slept within sound of her breath. 
 She had grown up happy and care-free, 
 with no suspicion of the danger that 
 threatened the child of a marked mil 
 lionaire. She did not even know that 
 her father was a very rich man so pro 
 tected had she been. She was only a 
 little more simple than most children 
 of twelve. And she met the world with 
 straight, shining looks, speaking to rich 
 and poor with a kind of open simplicity 
 that won the heart. 
 
 Her mother, watching the clear eyes, 
 had a sudden pang of what the morning 
 might have been the disillusionment 
 and terror of this unprotected hour 
 that had been made instead a memory 
 of delight thanks to an unknown
 
 34 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 Greek named Achilles Alexandrakis, 
 who had told her of the beauties of 
 Greece and the Parthenon, and had 
 given her fresh pomegranates to carry 
 home in a round box. The mother s 
 thoughts rested on the man with a quick 
 sense of gratitude. He should be paid 
 a thousand times over for his care of 
 Betty Harris and for pomegranates. 
 
 "They are like the Parthenon," said 
 the child, holding one in her hand and 
 turning it daintily to catch the light on 
 its pink surface. "They grew in Ath 
 ens." She set her little teeth firmly in 
 its round side.
 
 IV 
 
 AND ACHILLES DREAMS 
 
 ACHILLES, in his little shop, went in 
 and out with the thought of the child 
 in his heart. His thin fingers flitted 
 lightly among the fruit. The sadness 
 in his face had given way to a kind of 
 waking joy and thoughtf ulness. As he 
 made change and did up bags and par 
 cels of fruit, his thoughts kept hovering 
 about her, and his lips moved in a soft 
 smile, half-muttering again the words 
 he had spoken to her praises of Ath 
 ens, city of light, sky of brightness, 
 smiles, and running talk. ... It was all 
 with him, and his heart was free. . . . 
 How the child s eyes had followed the 
 words, full of trust ! He should see her 
 again and again. . . . Outside a halo 
 rested on the smoky air ... a little 
 child, out of the rattle and din, had 
 spoken to him. As he looked up, the 
 
 35
 
 36 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 big, sooty city became softly the pres 
 ence of the child. . . . The sound of pen 
 nies clinking in hurried palms was no 
 longer harsh upon his ears - they tinkled 
 softly little tunes that ran. Truly it 
 had been a wonderful day for Achilles 
 Alexandrakis. 
 
 He paused in his work and looked 
 about the little shop. The same dull- 
 shining rows of fruit, the same spicy 
 smell and the glowing disks of yellow 
 light. He drew a deep, full breath. It 
 was all the same, but the world was 
 changed. His heart that had ached so 
 long with its pent-up message of Greece 
 the glory of her days, the beauty of 
 temples and statues and tombs was 
 freed by the tale of his lips. The 
 world was new-born for him. He lifted 
 the empty fig-box, from which the child 
 had set free the butterfly that had hung 
 imprisoned in its grey cocoon through 
 the long winter, and placed it carefully 
 on the shelf. The lettering traced along 
 its side " neTaloufa " was faded and 
 dim; but he saw again the child s eyes
 
 AND ACHILLES DREAMS 37 
 
 lifted to it the lips half-parted, the 
 eager question and swift demand that 
 he should tell her of Athens and the 
 Parthenon and the same love and the 
 wonder that dwelt in his own heart for 
 the city of his birth. It was a strange 
 coincidence that the child should have 
 come to him. Perhaps she was the one 
 soul in the great, hurrying city who 
 could care. They did not understand 
 these hurrying, breathless men and 
 women how a heart could ache for 
 something left behind across the seas, 
 a city of quiet, the breath of the Past- 
 sorrow and joy and sweet life. . . . 
 No, they could not understand! But 
 the child He caught his breath a lit 
 tle. . . . Where was she in the hurry 
 and rush? He had not thought to 
 ask. . . . And she was gone ! Only for a 
 moment the dark face clouded. Then 
 the smile flooded again. He should find 
 her. ... It might be hard but he 
 would search. . . . Had he not come 
 down the long way of the Piraeus to the 
 sea blue in the sun. Across the great
 
 38 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 waters by ship, and the long miles by 
 train. He should find her. . . . They 
 would talk again. He laughed quietly 
 in the dusky shop. 
 
 Then his eye fell upon it the music- 
 roll that had slipped quietly to the floor 
 when her eager hand had lifted itself 
 to touch the butterfly, opening and clos 
 ing his great wings in the fig-box. He 
 crossed to it and lifted it almost rever 
 ently, brushing a breath of dust from its 
 leather sides. . . . He bent closer to it, 
 staring at a little silver plate that swung 
 from the strap. He carried it to the 
 window, rubbing it on the worn black 
 sleeve, and bending closer, studying the 
 deep-cut letters. Then he lifted his head. 
 A quick sigh floated from him. . . . 
 Miss Elizabeth Harris, 108 Lake 
 Shore Drive. . . . He knew the place 
 quite well facing the lake, where the 
 water boomed against the great break 
 water. . . . He would take it to her to 
 morrow the next day next week, per 
 haps. . . . He wrapped it carefully; 
 away and laid it in a drawer to wait. 
 She had asked him to come.
 
 V 
 
 THE GEEEK PEOFESSOR LAUGHS 
 
 To Mrs. Philip Harris, in the big 
 house looking out across the lake, the 
 passing days brought grateful reassur 
 ance. . . . Betty was safe Miss Stone 
 was well again and the man had not 
 come. . . . She breathed more freely as 
 she thought of it. The child had told 
 her that she had asked him. But she 
 had forgotten to give him her address; 
 and it would not do to be mixed up with 
 a person like that free to come and go 
 as he liked. He was no doubt a worthy 
 man. But Betty was only a child, and 
 too easily enamoured of people she 
 liked. It was strange how deep an im 
 pression the man s words had made on 
 her. Athens and Greece filled her wak 
 ing moments. Statues and temples- 
 photographs and books of travel loaded 
 the school-room shelves. The house 
 
 39
 
 40 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 reeked with Greek learning. Poor Miss 
 Stone found herself drifting into archae 
 ology; and an exhaustive study of 
 Greek literature, Greek life, Greek art 
 filled her days. The theory of Betty 
 Harris s education had been elaborately 
 worked out by specialists from earliest 
 babyhood. Certain studies, rigidly pre 
 scribed, were to be followed whether 
 she liked them or not but outside these 
 lines, subjects were to be taken up when 
 she showed an interest in them. There 
 could be no question that the time for the 
 study of Greek history and Greek civi 
 lisation had come. Miss Stone laboured 
 early and late. Instruction from the 
 university down the lake was pressed 
 into service. . . . But out of it all the 
 child seemed, by some kind of precious 
 alchemy, to extract only the best, the 
 vital heart of it. 
 
 The instructor in Greek marvelled a 
 little. "She is only a child," he re 
 ported to the head of the department, 
 "and the family are American of the 
 newest type you know, the Philip Har 
 rises?"
 
 THE GREEK PROFESSOR LAUGHS 41 
 
 The professor nodded. "I know 
 hide and hoof a generation back." 
 
 The instructor assented. "But the 
 child is uncanny. She knows more 
 about Greek than 
 
 "Than / do, I suppose." The 
 professor smiled indulgently. "She 
 wouldn t have to know much for that." 
 
 "It isn t so much what she knows. 
 She has a kind of feeling for things. I 
 took up a lot of those photographs to 
 day some of the later period mixed 
 in and she picked them out as if she 
 had been brought up in Athens." 
 
 The professor looked interested. 
 "Modern educational methods?" 
 
 "As much as you like," said the in 
 structor. "But it is something more. 
 When I am with the child I am in Ath 
 ens itself. Chicago makes me blink 
 when I come out." 
 
 The professor laughed. The next day 
 he made an appointment to go himself 
 to see the child. He was a famous 
 epigraphist and an authority in his sub 
 ject. He had spent years in Greece 
 with his nose, for the most part, held
 
 42 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 close to bits of parchment and stone. 
 
 When he came away, he was laughing 
 softly. "I am going over for a year," 
 he said, when he met the instructor that 
 afternoon in the corridor. 
 
 "Did you see the little Harris girl?" 
 asked the instructor. 
 
 The professor paused. "Yes, I saw 
 her." 
 
 "How did she strike you?" 
 
 "She struck me dumb," said the pro 
 fessor. "I listened for the best part 
 of an hour while she expounded things 
 to me asked me questions I couldn t 
 answer, mostly." He chuckled a little. 
 "I felt like a fool," he added, frankly, 
 "and it felt good." 
 
 The instructor smiled. "I go 
 through it twice a week. The trouble 
 seems to be that she s alive, and that 
 she thinks everything Greek is alive, 
 too." 
 
 The professor nodded. "It s never 
 occurred to her it s dead and done with 
 these thousand years and more." He 
 gave a little sigh. "Sometimes I ve
 
 THE GREEK PROFESSOR LAUGHS 43 
 
 wondered myself whether it is quite 
 as dead as it looks to you and me," he 
 added. "You know that grain wheat 
 or something that Blackman took from 
 the Egyptian mummy he brought over 
 last spring " 
 
 "Yes, he planted it 
 
 "Exactly. And all summer he was 
 tending a little patch of something green 
 up there in his back yard as fresh as 
 the eyes of Pharaoh s daughter ever 
 looked on " 
 
 The instructor opened his eyes a lit 
 tle. This was a wild flight for the head 
 epigraphist. 
 
 "That s the way she made me feel 
 that little Harris girl," explained the 
 professor "as if my mummy might 
 spring up and blossom any day if I 
 didn t look out." 
 
 The instructor laughed out. "So 
 you re going over with it?" 
 
 "A year two years, maybe," said 
 the professor. "I want to watch it 
 sprout.
 
 VI 
 
 ACHIL.LES CALLS ON BETTY HARRIS 
 
 IN another week Achilles Alexan- 
 drakis had made ready to call on 
 Betty Harris. There had been many 
 details to attend to a careful sponging 
 and pressing of his best suit, the pur 
 chase of a new hat, and cuffs and col 
 lars of the finest linen nothing was too 
 good for the little lady who had flitted 
 into the dusky shop and out, leaving be 
 hind her the little line of light. 
 
 Achilles brushed the new hat softly, 
 turning it on his supple wrist with gen 
 tle pride. He took out the music-roll 
 from the drawer and unrolled it, hold 
 ing it in light fingers. He would carry 
 it back to Betty Harris, and he would 
 stay for a while and talk with her of his 
 beloved Athens. Outside the sun 
 gleamed. The breeze came fresh from 
 the lake. As he made his way up the 
 
 44
 
 ACHILLES CALLS ON BETTY HARRIS 45 
 
 long drive of the Lake Shore, the water 
 dimpled in the June sun, and little 
 waves lapped the great stones, touch 
 ing the ear with quiet sound. It was 
 a clear, fresh day, with the hint of com 
 ing summer in the air. To the left, 
 stone castles lifted themselves sombrely 
 in the soft day. Grim or flaunting, 
 they faced the lake castles from Ger 
 many, castles from France and castles 
 from Spain. Achilles eyed them with 
 a little smile as his swift, thin feet trav 
 ersed the long stones. There were 
 turrets and towers and battlements 
 frowning upon the peaceful, workaday 
 lake. Minarets and flowers in stone, 
 and heavy marble blocks that gripped 
 the earth. Suddenly Achilles s foot 
 slackened its swift pace. His eye 
 dropped to the silver tag on the music- 
 roll in his hand, and lifted itself again 
 to a gleaming red-brown house at the 
 left. It rose with a kind of lightness 
 from the earth, standing poised upon 
 the shore of the lake, like some alert, 
 swift creature caught in flight, brought
 
 46 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 to bay by the rush of waters. Achilles 
 looked at it with gentle eyes, a swift 
 pleasure lighting his glance. It was a 
 beautiful structure. Its red-brown 
 front and pointed, lifting roof had 
 hardly a Greek line or hint; but the 
 spirit that built the Parthenon was in 
 it facing the rippling lake. He 
 moved softly across the smooth road 
 way and leaned against the parapet of 
 stone that guarded the water, studying 
 the line and colour of the house that 
 faced him. 
 
 The man who planned it had loved it, 
 and as it rose there in the light it was 
 perfect in every detail as it had been 
 conceived with one little exception. 
 On either side the doorway crouched 
 massive grey-pink lions wrought in 
 stone, the heavy outspread paws and 
 firm-set haunches resting at royal ease. 
 In the original plan these lions had not 
 appeared. But in their place had been 
 two steers wide-flanked and short- 
 horned, with lifted heads and nostrils 
 snuffing free something crude, brusque,
 
 ACHILLES CALLS ON BETTY HARRIS 47 
 
 perhaps, but full of power and quick 
 onslaught. The house that rose behind 
 them had been born of the same thought. 
 Its pointed gable and its facades, its 
 lifted front, had the same look of chal 
 lenge; the light, firm-planted hoofs, the 
 springing head, were all there in the 
 soft, red stone running to brown in the 
 flanks. 
 
 The stock-yard owner and his wife had 
 liked the design with no suspicion of 
 the symbol undergirding it. The man 
 had liked it all steers and red-brown 
 stone and all but the wife had objected. 
 She had travelled far, and she had seen, 
 on a certain building in Rome, two lions 
 guarding a ducal entrance. . . . 
 
 Now that the house was finished, the 
 architect seldom passed that way. But 
 when he did he swore at the lions, 
 softly, as he whirred by. He had done 
 a mighty thing conceived in steel and 
 stone a house that fitted the swift life 
 out of which it came, the wind-swept 
 place in which it stood, and all the stir- 
 ding, troublous times about it. There it
 
 48 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 rose in its spirit of lightness, head up 
 lifted and nostrils sniffing the breeze 
 and in front of it squatted two stone 
 lions from the palmy days of Eome. 
 He gritted his teeth, and drove his ma 
 chine hard when he passed that way. 
 
 But to Achilles, standing with bared 
 head, the breeze from the lake touching 
 his forehead, the lions were of no ac 
 count. He let them go. The spirit of 
 the whole possessed him. It was as if 
 a hand had touched him lightly on the 
 shoulder, in a crowd, staying him. A 
 quick breath escaped his lips as he re 
 placed his hat and crossed to the red- 
 brown steps. He mounted them without 
 a glance at the pink monsters on either 
 hand. A light had come into his face. 
 The child filled it. 
 
 The stiff butler eyed him severely, and 
 the great door seemed ready to close of 
 itself. Only something in the poise of 
 Achilles s head, a look in his eyes, held 
 the hinge waiting a grudging minute 
 while he spoke. 
 
 He lifted his head a little ; the look in
 
 ACHILLES CALLS ON BETTY HARRIS 49 
 
 his eyes deepened. "I am called 
 Miss Elizabeth Harris and her mother 
 to see," he said, simply. 
 
 The door paused a little and swung 
 back an inch. He might be a great 
 savant . . . some scholar of parts an 
 artist. They came for the child to ex 
 amine her to play for her to talk with 
 her. . . . Then there was the music- 
 roll. ... It took the blundering gram 
 mar and the music-roll to keep the door 
 open and then it opened wide and 
 Achilles entered, following the butler s 
 stateliness up the high, dark hall. Rich 
 hangings were about them, and massive 
 pictures, bronzes and statues, and cu 
 rious carvings. Inside the house the 
 taste of the mistress had prevailed. 
 
 At the door of a great, high-ceiled 
 room the butler paused, holding back 
 the soft drapery with austere hand. 
 "What name for madame?" he said. 
 
 The clear eyes of Achilles met his. 
 "My name is Achilles Alexandrakis," 
 he said, quietly. 
 
 The eyes of the butler fell. He was
 
 50 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 struggling with this unexpected morsel 
 in the recesses of his being. Plain Mr. 
 Alexander would have had small effect 
 upon him ; but Achilles Alexandrakis ! 
 He mounted the long staircase, holding 
 the syllables in his set teeth. 
 
 "Alexandrakis?" His mistress turned 
 a little puzzled frown upon him. 
 "What is he like, Conner?" 
 
 The man considered a safe moment. 
 "He s a furriner," he said, addressing 
 the wall before him with impassive jaw. 
 
 A little light crossed her face not a 
 look of pleasure. "Ask Miss Stone to 
 come to me at once," she said. 
 
 The man bowed himself out and de 
 parted on silken foot. 
 
 Miss Stone, gentle and fluttering and 
 fine-grained, appeared a moment later 
 in the doorway. 
 
 "He has come," said the woman, 
 without looking up. 
 
 "He f" Miss Stone s lifted eye 
 brows sought to place him 
 
 "The Greek I told you" 
 
 "Oh The Greek !" It was slow
 
 ACHILLES CALLS ON BETTY HARRIS 51 
 
 and hesitant. It spoke volumes for 
 Miss Stone s state of mind. Hours of 
 Greek history were in it, and long rows 
 of tombs and temples the Parthenon of 
 gods and goddesses, with a few outlying 
 scores of heroes and understudies. 
 "The Greek," she repeated, softly. 
 
 "The Greek," said the woman, with 
 decision. "He has asked for Betty and 
 for me. I cannot see him, of course." 
 
 "You have the club," said Miss Stone, 
 in soft assent. 
 
 "I have the club in ten minutes." 
 Her brow wrinkled. "You will kindly 
 see him 
 
 "And Betty?" said Miss Stone, 
 waiting. 
 
 "The child must see him. Yes, of 
 course. She would be heart-broken 
 You drive at three," she added, without 
 emphasis. 
 
 "We drive at three," repeated Miss 
 Stone. 
 
 She moved quietly away, her grey 
 gown a bit of shimmering in the gor 
 geous rooms. She had been chosen for
 
 52 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 the very qualities that made her seem 
 so curiously out of place for her gen 
 tleness and unassuming dignity, and a 
 few ancestors. The country had been 
 searched for a lady so much the lady 
 that she had never given the matter a 
 thought. Miss Stone was the result. 
 If Betty had charm and simplicity and 
 instinctive courtesy toward those whom 
 she met, it was only what she saw every 
 day in the little grey woman who di 
 rected her studies, her play, her whole 
 life. 
 
 The two were inseparable, light and 
 shadow, morning and night. Betty s 
 mother in the house was the grand 
 lady beautiful to look upon the piece 
 of bronze, or picture, that went with the 
 house; but Miss Stone was Betty s 
 own the little grey voice, a bit of heart- 
 love, and something common and pre 
 cious. 
 
 They came down the long rooms to 
 gether, the child s hand resting lightly 
 in hers, and her steps dancing a little 
 in happy play. She had not heard the
 
 They ;ire two children together "
 
 ACHILLES CALLS ON BETTY HARRIS 53 
 
 man s name. He was only a wise man 
 whom she was to meet for a few min 
 utes, before she and Miss Stone went for 
 their drive. The day was full of light 
 outside even in the heavily draped 
 rooms you could feel its presence. She 
 was eager to be off, out in the sun and 
 air of the great sea of freshness, and 
 the light, soft wind on her face. 
 
 Then she saw the slim, dark man who 
 had risen to meet her, and a swift light 
 crossed her face. . . . She was coming 
 down the room now, both hands out 
 stretched, fluttering a little in the quick 
 surprise and joy. Then the hands 
 stayed themselves, and she advanced 
 demurely to meet him ; but the hand that 
 lifted itself to his seemed to sing like 
 a child s hand in spite of the princess. 
 
 "I am glad you have come," she said. 
 "This is Miss Stone." She seated her 
 self beside him, her eyes on his face, 
 her little feet crossed at the ankle. 
 "Have you any new fruit to-day?" she 
 asked, politely. 
 
 He smiled a little, and drew a soft,
 
 54 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 flat, white bit of tissue from his pocket, 
 undoing it fold on fold till in the cen 
 tre lay a grey-green leaf. 
 
 The child bent above it with pleased 
 glance. Her eyes travelled to his face. 
 
 He nodded quietly. "I thought of 
 you. It is the Eastern citron. See- 
 He! lifted the leaf and held it suspended. 
 "It hangs like this and the fruit is 
 blue grey-blue like His eye trav 
 elled about the elaborate room. He 
 shook his head slowly. Then his glance 
 fell on the grey gown of Miss Stone as 
 it fell along the rug at her feet, and he 
 bowed with gracious appeal for permis 
 sion. "Like the dress of madame," he 
 said "but warmer, like the sun and 
 blue." 
 
 A low colour crept up into the soft 
 line of Miss Stone s cheek and rested 
 there. She sat watching the two with 
 slightly puzzled eyes. She was a lady 
 kindly and gracious to the world 
 but she could not have thought of any 
 thing to say to this fruit-peddler who 
 had seemed, for days and weeks, to be
 
 ACHILLES CALLS ON BETTY HARRIS 55 
 
 tumbling all Greek civilisation about her 
 head. . . . The child was chatting with 
 him as if she had known him al 
 ways. . . . They had turned to each 
 other again, and were absorbed in the 
 silken leaf the man talking in soft, 
 broken words, the child piecing out the 
 half-finished phrase with quick nod and 
 gesture, her little voice running in and 
 out along the words like ripples of light 
 on some dark surface. 
 
 The face of Achilles had grown 
 strangely radiant. Miss Stone, as she 
 looked at it again, was almost startled 
 at the change. The sombre look had 
 vanished. Quick lights ran in it, and 
 little thoughts that met the child s and 
 laughed. "They are two children to 
 gether," thought Miss Stone, as she 
 watched them. "I have never seen the 
 child so happy. She must see him 
 again." . . . She sat with her hands 
 folded in her grey lap, a little apart, 
 watching the pretty scene and happy in 
 it, but outside it all, untouched and 
 grey and still.
 
 VII 
 
 TO MEET THE " HALCYON CLUB" 
 
 OUTSIDE the door the horses pranced, 
 champing a little at the bit, and turning 
 their shining, arching necks in the sun. 
 Other carriages drove up and drove 
 away. Rich toilets alighted and 
 mounted the red-brown steps hats that 
 rose, tier on tier, riotous parterres of 
 flowers and feathers and fruit, close lit 
 tle bonnets that proclaimed their ele 
 gance by velvet knot or subtle curve of 
 brim and crown. Colours flashed, rib 
 bon-ends fluttered, delicately shod feet 
 scorned the pavement. It was the Hal 
 cyon Club of the North Side, assembling 
 to listen to Professor Addison Trent, the 
 great epigraphist, who was to discourse 
 to them on the inscriptions of Cnossus, 
 the buried town of Crete. The feathers 
 and flowers and boas were only surface 
 deep. Beneath them beat an intense de- 
 
 56
 
 sire to know about epigraphy all about 
 it. The laughing faces and daintily 
 shod feet were set firmly in the way of 
 culture. They swept through the wide 
 doors, up the long carved staircase 
 from the Caracci Palace in Florence 
 into the wide library, with its arched 
 ceiling and high-shelved books and 
 glimpses of busts and pedestals. They 
 fluttered in soft gloom, and sank into 
 rows of adjustable chairs and faced 
 sternly a little platform at the end of 
 the room. The air of culture descended 
 gratefully about them ; they buzzed a lit 
 tle in its dim warmth and settled back 
 to await the arrival of the great 
 epigraphist. 
 
 The great epigraphist was, at this mo 
 ment, three hundred and sixty-three 
 and one-half miles to be precise out 
 from New York. He was sitting in a 
 steamer-chair, his feet stretched com 
 fortably before him, a steamer-rug 
 wrapped about his ample form, a grey 
 cap pulled over his eyes dozing in the 
 sun. Suddenly he sat erect. The rug
 
 58 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 fell from his person, the visor shot up 
 from his eyes. He turned them blankly 
 toward the shoreless West. This was 
 the moment at which he had instructed 
 his subconscious self to remind him of 
 an engagement to lecture on Cretan in 
 scriptions at the home of Mrs. Philip 
 Harris on the Lake Shore Drive, Chi 
 cago, Illinois. He looked again at the 
 shoreless West and tried to grasp it. 
 It may have been his subconscious self 
 that reminded him it may have been 
 the telepathic waves that travelled to 
 ward him out of the half -gloom of the 
 library. They were fifty strong, and 
 they travelled with great intensity 
 "Had any one seen him ?" "Where 
 was he?" "What was wrong?" 
 "Late!" "Very late!" "Such a 
 punctual man!" The waves fluttered 
 and spread and grew. The president of 
 the club looked at the hostess. The 
 hostess looked at the president. They 
 consulted and drew apart. The presi 
 dent rose to speak, clearing her throat 
 for a pained look. Then she waited. . . .
 
 To MEET THE "HALCYON CLUB" 59 
 
 The hostess was approaching again, a 
 fine resolution in her face. They con 
 ferred, looking doubtfully at the door. 
 The president nodded courageously and 
 seated herself again on the platform, 
 while Mrs. Philip Harris passed slowly 
 from the room, the eyes of the assem 
 bled company following her with a lit 
 tle look of curiosity and dawning hope.
 
 VIII 
 
 AND GIVE A SIMPLE LECTURE 
 
 IN the doorway below she paused a 
 moment, a little startled at the scene. 
 The bowed heads, the bit of folded tis 
 sue, the laughing, eager tones, the look 
 in Miss Stone s face held her. . . . She 
 swept aside the drapery and entered 
 the stately lady of the house. 
 
 The bowed heads were lifted. The 
 child sprang to her feet. * Mother-dear ! 
 It is my friend! He has come!" The 
 words sang. 
 
 Mrs. Philip Harris held out a gra 
 cious hand. She had not intended to 
 offer her hand. She had intended to be 
 distant and kind. But when the man 
 looked up she somehow forgot. She 
 held out the hand with a quick smile. 
 
 The Greek was on his feet, bending 
 above it. "It is an honour, madame 
 that you come." 
 
 60
 
 AND GIVE A SIMPLE LECTURE 61 
 
 "I have come to ask a favour," she 
 replied, slowly, her eyes travelling over 
 the well-brushed clothes, the clean linen, 
 the slender feet of the man. . . . Favour 
 was not what she had meant to say 
 privilege was nearer it. ... But there 
 was something about him. . . . Her 
 voice grew suave to match the words. 
 
 "My daughter has told me of you " 
 Her hand rested lightly on the child s 
 curls a safe, unrumpled touch. "Her 
 visit to you has enchanted her. She 
 speaks of it every day, of the Parthenon 
 and what you told her." 
 
 The eyes of the man and the child met 
 gravely. 
 
 "I wondered whether you would be 
 willing to tell some friends of mine 
 here now 
 
 He had turned to her a swift look. 
 
 She replied with a smile. "Nothing 
 formal just simple things, such as you 
 told the child. We should be very grate 
 ful to you," she added, as if she were 
 a little surprised at herself. 
 
 He looked at her with clear eyes. "I
 
 62 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 speak yes I like always to speak of 
 my country. I thank you. 
 
 The child, standing by with eager 
 feet, moved lightly. Her hands danced 
 in softest pats. "You will tell them 
 about it just as you told me and they 
 will love it!" 
 
 "I tell them yes" 
 
 < Come, Miss Stone. The child held 
 out her hand with a little gesture of 
 pride and loving. "We must go now. 
 Good-bye, Mr. Achilles. You will come 
 again, please." 
 
 "I come," said Achilles, simply. He 
 watched the quaint figure pass down the 
 long rooms beside the shimmering grey 
 dress, through an arched doorway at the 
 end, and out of sight. Then he turned 
 to his hostess with the quick smile of 
 his race. "She is beautiful, madame," 
 he said, slowly. "She is a child!" 
 
 The mother assented, absently. She 
 was not thinking of the child, but of the 
 fifty members of the Halcyon Club in 
 the library. "Will you come?" she 
 said. "My friends are waiting."
 
 AND GIVE A SIMPLE LECTURE 63 
 
 He spread his hands in quick assent. 
 "I come as you like. I give pleasure 
 to come." 
 
 She smiled a little. Yes, you give 
 pleasure." She was somehow at ease 
 about the man. He was poor illiter 
 ate, perhaps, but not uncouth. She 
 glanced at him with a little look of ap 
 proval as they went up the staircase. 
 It came to her suddenly that he har 
 monised with it, and with all the beau 
 tiful things about them. The figure of 
 Professor Trent flashed upon her 
 short and fat and puffing, and yearning 
 toward the top of the stair. But this 
 man. There was the grand air about 
 him and yet so simple. . . . 
 
 It was almost with a sense of eclat 
 that she ushered him into the library. 
 The air stirred subtly, with a little hush. 
 The president was on her feet, intro 
 ducing Mr. Achilles Alexandrakis, who, 
 in the unavoidable absence of Professor 
 Trent, had kindly consented to speak to 
 them on the traditions and customs of 
 modern Greek life.
 
 64 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Achilles s eyes fell gently on the 
 lifted faces. "I like to tell you about 
 my home," he said, simply. "I tell you 
 all I can." 
 
 The look of strain in the faces re 
 laxed. It was going to be an easy lec 
 ture one that you could know some 
 thing about. They settled to soft at 
 tention and approval. 
 
 Achilles waited a minute looking at 
 them with deep eyes. And suddenly 
 they saw that the eyes were not looking 
 at them, but at something far away 
 something beautiful and loved. 
 
 It is safe to say that the members of 
 the Halcyon Club had never listened to 
 anything quite like the account that 
 Achilles Alexandrakis gave them that 
 day, in the gloomy room of the red- 
 fronted house overlooking the lake, of 
 the land of his birth. They scarcely 
 listened to the actual words at first, but 
 they listened to him all lighted up from 
 far away. There was something about 
 him as he spoke a sweeping rhythm 
 that flew as a bird, reaching over great
 
 AND GIVE A SIMPLE LECTURE 65 
 
 spaces, and a simple joy that lilted a 
 little and sang. 
 
 He drew for them the Parthenon 
 the glory of Athens in column and 
 statue and mighty temple and crumbling 
 tomb. ... A sense of beauty and won 
 der and still, clear light passed before 
 them. 
 
 Then he paused . . . his voice laughed 
 a little, and he spoke of his people. . . . 
 Nobody could have quite told what he 
 said to them about his people. But 
 flutes sang. . . . The sound of feet was 
 on the grass touching it in tune swift- 
 flitting feet that paused and held a 
 rhythmic measure while it swung. 
 Quick-beating feet across the green. 
 Shadowy forms. The sway of gowns, 
 light-falling, and the call of voices low 
 and sweet. . . . Greek youth and maid 
 in swiftest play. They flung the 
 branches wide and trembled in the voice 
 less light that played upon the grass. 
 The foot of Achilles half-beat the 
 time. . . . The tones filled themselves and 
 lifted, slowly, surely. The voice quick-
 
 66 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 ened it ran with faster notes, as one 
 who tells some eager tale. . . . Then it 
 swung in cradling-song the twilight of 
 Athens and the little birds sang low, 
 twittering underneath the leaves in 
 softest garb at last rose leaves fall 
 ing the dusky bats around her roof 
 tops, and the high-soaring sky that 
 arches all mysterious and deep. . . . 
 Then the voice sank low, and rang and 
 held the note stern, splendid Athens 
 of might. . . . City of power ! Glory, in 
 clanging word, and in the lift of eye. . . . 
 Athens on her hills, like great Jove en 
 throned the shout, the triumph, the 
 clash of steel, and the feet of Alaric in 
 the streets. . . . The voice of the Greek 
 grew hoarse now, tiny cords swelled on 
 his forehead. . . . Athens, city of war. . . . 
 Desolation, fire, and trampling ! His 
 eye was drawn in light. . . . Vandal 
 hand and iron foot! . . . 
 
 Who shall say how much of it he 
 told how much of it he spoke, and how 
 much was only hinted or called up in 
 his voice and his gesture and his eye. . . .
 
 AND GIVE A SIMPLE LECTURE 67 
 
 They had not known that Athens was 
 like this ! They spoke in lowered voices, 
 moving apart a little, and making 
 place for the silver trays that began to 
 pass among them. They glanced now 
 and then at the dark man nibbling his 
 biscuit absently and looking with un 
 fathomable eyes into a teacup. 
 
 A large woman approached him, her 
 ample bust covered with little beads 
 that rose and fell and twinkled as she 
 talked. "I liked your talk, Mr. Alexis, 
 and I am going over just as soon as my 
 husband can get away from his busi 
 ness." She looked at him with ap 
 proval, waiting for his. 
 
 He bowed with deep, grave gesture. 
 "My country is honoured, madame." 
 
 Other listeners were crowding upon 
 them now, commending the fire-tipped 
 words, felicitating the man with pretty 
 gesture and soft speech, patronising him 
 for the Parthenon and his country and 
 her art. . . . The mistress of the house, 
 moving in and out among them, 
 watched the play with a little look of
 
 68 MB, ACHILLES 
 
 annoyance. . . . He would be spoiled 
 a man of that class. . k . She glanced 
 down at the slip of paper in her 
 hand. ... It bore the name, " Achilles 
 Alexandrakis, " and below it a generous 
 sum to his order. She made her way 
 toward him, and waited while he disen 
 gaged himself from the little throng 
 about him and came to her, a look of 
 pleasure and service in his face. 
 
 You speak to me, madame?" 
 
 "I wanted to give you this." She 
 slipped the check into the thin fingers. 
 "You can look at it later " 
 
 But already the fingers had raised it 
 with a little look of pleased surprise. . . . 
 Then the face darkened, and he laid 
 the paper on the polished table be 
 tween them. There was a quick move 
 ment of the slim fingers that pushed it 
 toward her. 
 
 "I cannot take it, madam e to speak 
 of my country. ... I speak for the 
 child and for you." He bowed low. 
 "I give pleasure to do it." 
 
 The next moment he had saluted her
 
 AND GIVE A SIMPLE LECTURE 69 
 
 with gentle grace and was gone from 
 the room from the house between the 
 stone lions and down the Lake Shore 
 Drive, his free legs swinging in long 
 strides, his head held high to the wind 
 on the opal lake. 
 
 A carriage passed him, and he looked 
 up. Two figures, erect in the sun, the 
 breath of a child s smile, a bit of shim 
 mer and grey, the flash and beat of 
 quick hoofs and they were gone. But 
 the heart of Achilles sang in his breast, 
 and the day about him was full of light.
 
 IX 
 
 BETTY LEAVES HEE GODS 
 
 LITTLE Betty Harris sat in the big win 
 dow, bending over her gods and god 
 desses and temples and ruins. It was 
 months since, under the inspiration of 
 the mysterious, fruit-dealing Greek, 
 she had begun her study of Greek 
 art; and the photographs gathered 
 from every source were piled high 
 in the window prints and tiny re 
 plicas and casts, and pictures of every 
 kind and size they overflowed into 
 the great room beyond. She was busy 
 now, pasting the photographs into a big 
 book. To-morrow the family started 
 for the country, and only as many gods 
 could go as could be pasted in the book. 
 Miss Stone had decreed it and what 
 Miss Stone said must be done. . . . 
 Betty Harris looked anxiously at Posei 
 don, and laid him down, in favour of 
 
 70
 
 BETTY LEAVES HEE GODS 71 
 
 Zeus. She took him up in her fingers 
 again, with a little flourish of the paste- 
 tube, and made him fast. Poseidon 
 must go, too. The paste-tube wavered 
 uncertainly over the maze of gods and 
 found another and stuck it in place, and 
 lifted itself in admiring delight. 
 
 There was a little rustle, and the child 
 looked up. Miss Stone stood in the 
 doorway, smiling at her. 
 
 "I m making my book for the gods," 
 said the child, her flushed face lighting. 
 "It s a kind of home for them." She 
 slipped down from her chair and came 
 across, holding the book outstretched be 
 fore her. . . . "You see I ve put Posei 
 don in He never had a home 
 
 except just the sea, of course a kind of 
 wet home." She gave the god a little 
 pat, regarding him fondly. 
 
 Miss Stone bent above the book, with 
 the smile of understanding that al 
 ways lay between them. . . . When Betty 
 Harris thought about God, he seemed 
 always, somehow, like Miss Stone s 
 smile but bigger because he filled the
 
 72 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 whole earth. . . . She lifted her hand 
 and stroked the cheek bending above her 
 book. . . . "I m making a place for 
 them all," she said. "It s a kind of 
 story She drew a sigh of quick de 
 light. 
 
 Miss Stone closed the book decisively, 
 touching the flushed face with her fin 
 gers. "Put it away, child and the pic 
 tures. We re going to drive." 
 
 "Yes Nono." It was her own pet 
 name for Miss Stone, and she gave a 
 little quick nod, closing the book with 
 happy eyes. But she waited a moment, 
 hugging the book to her and looking at 
 the scattered gods in the great window, 
 before she walked demurely across and 
 began gathering them up a little puz 
 zled frown between her eyes. "I sup 
 pose I couldn t leave them scattered 
 around?" she suggested politely. 
 
 Miss Stone smiled a little head-shake, 
 and the child bent again to her work. 
 "I don t like to pick up," she said 
 softly. "It s more interesting not to 
 pick up ever." She lifted her face
 
 BETTY LEAVES HER GODS 73 
 
 from a print of Apollo and looked at 
 Miss Stone intently. . . . "There might 
 be gods that could pick up pick them 
 selves up, perhaps ?" It was a polite 
 suggestion but there was a look in the 
 dark face the look of the meat-packer s 
 daughter something that darted ahead 
 and compelled gods to pick themselves 
 
 up She bent again, the little sigh 
 
 checking itself on her lip. . . . Miss 
 Stone did not like to have little girls 
 object and it was not polite, and be 
 sides you had to take care of things 
 your own things. . . . The servants 
 took care of the house for you, and 
 bought you things to eat, and made beds 
 for you, and fed the horses and ironed 
 
 clothes but your own things the 
 
 gods and temples and scrapbooks and 
 paste that you left lying about you 
 had to put away yourself ! . . . Her fin 
 gers found the paste-tube and screwed 
 it firmly in place with a little twist of 
 the small mouth and hovered above the 
 prints with quick touch. . . . The serv 
 ants did things other things. Con-
 
 74 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 stance mended your clothes and dressed 
 you, and Marie served you at table, and 
 sometimes she brought a nice little 
 lunch if you were hungry and you and 
 Miss Stone had it together on the school 
 table but no one ever ever ever 
 picked up your playthings for you. She 
 thrust the last god into his box and 
 closed the lid firmly. Then she looked 
 up. She was alone in the big room 
 .... in the next room she could hear 
 Miss Stone moving softly, getting ready 
 for the drive. She slipped from her 
 seat and stood in the window, looking 
 out far ahead the lake stretched 
 dancing with green waves and little 
 white edges and down below, the 
 horses curved their great necks that 
 glistened in the sun and the harness 
 caught gleams of light. The child s 
 eyes dwelt on them happily. . . . They 
 were her very own, Pollux and Castor 
 and she was going driving driving 
 in the sun. She hummed a little tune, 
 standing looking down at them. 
 Behind her stretched the great room
 
 BETTY LEAVES HER GODS 75 
 
 high-ceiled and wide, and furnished 
 for a princess a child princess. Its 
 canopied bed and royal draperies had 
 come across the seas from a royal 
 house the children of kings had slept 
 in it before Betty Harris. The high 
 walls were covered with priceless 
 decoration yet like a child in every 
 line. ... It was Betty s own place in 
 the great house and the little room 
 adjoining, where Miss Stone slept, was 
 a part of it, clear and fine in its lines 
 and in the bare quiet of the walls. . . . 
 Betty liked to slip away into Miss 
 Stone s room and stand very still, look 
 ing about her, hardly breathing. . . . 
 It was like a church only clearer 
 and sweeter and freer . . . perhaps it 
 was the woods . . . with the wind whis 
 pering up there. . . . She always held 
 her breath to listen in Miss Stone s 
 room; and when she came back, to her 
 own, child s room with its canopied 
 bed and royal draperies and colour and 
 charm, she held the stillness and white 
 ness of Miss Stone s room in her heart
 
 76 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 it was like a bird nestling there. Betty 
 had never held a bird, but she often 
 lifted her hands to them as they flew 
 and once, in a dream, one had fluttered 
 into the lifted hands and she had held it 
 close and felt the wind blow softly. It 
 was like Miss Stone s room. . . . But 
 Miss Stone was not like that. You 
 could hug Nono and tell her secrets and 
 what you wanted for luncheon Some 
 times she would let you have it if you 
 were good -- very good and Nono 
 knew everything. She knew so much 
 that Betty Harris, looking from her 
 window, sighed softly. No one could 
 know as much as Nono knew not 
 ever. 
 
 "All ready, Betty." It was Miss 
 Stone in the doorway again. And with 
 a last look down out of the window at 
 the horses and the shimmering lake, 
 the child came across the room, skipping 
 a little. . . . "I should like to wear my 
 hat with the cherries, please," she said. 
 I like to feel them bob in the sun when 
 it shines they bob so nicely " She
 
 BETTY LEAVES HER GODS 77 
 
 paused with a quick look "They do 
 bob, don t they, Nono?" 
 
 "I don t think I ever noticed," said 
 Miss Stone. She was still smiling as 
 she touched the tumbled hair, putting it 
 in place. 
 
 "But they must bob," said Betty. 
 "I think I should have noticed your 
 cherries bobbing, Miss Stone." She 
 was looking intently at the quiet cheek 
 close beside her own, with its little flush 
 of pink, and the greyness of the hair 
 that lay beside it. "I notice all your 
 things, Nono," she said softly. 
 
 Miss Stone smiled again and drew her 
 to her. "I will look to-day, Betty, 
 when we drive " 
 
 The child nodded "Yes, they will 
 bob then. I can see them even with 
 my eyes not shut, I can see them bob 
 Please, Constance " She turned to 
 the stiff maid who had come in 
 "I want my grey coat and red-cherry 
 hat. We re going to drive in the 
 sun." 
 
 The maid brought the garments and
 
 78 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 put them on with careful touch, tying 
 the strings under the lifted chin. 
 
 The child nodded to her gaily. 
 "Good-bye, Constance we re going for 
 a drive a long drive we shall go and 
 go and go Come, Miss Stone." She 
 took the quiet hand, and danced a little, 
 and held it close to her down the long 
 staircase and through the wide hall 
 and out to the sunshine and the street. 
 
 James, from his box, looked up, and 
 the reins tightened in the big hands. 
 The horses pranced and clicked their 
 hoofs and stood still; and James, lean 
 ing a respectful ear, touched his hat- 
 brim, and they were off, the harnesses 
 glinting and the little red cherries bob 
 bing in the sun.
 
 X 
 
 FOR A LONG DRIVE 
 
 BETTY HARRIS sat very still her hands 
 in her lap, her face lifted to the breeze 
 that touched it swiftly and fingered her 
 hair and swept past. Presently she 
 looked up with a nod as if the breeze 
 reminded her. "I should like to see 
 Mr. Achilles," she said. 
 
 "Not to-day," answered Miss Stone, 
 "we must do the errands for mother 
 to-day, you know." 
 
 The child s face fell. "I wanted to 
 see Mr. Achilles," she said simply. 
 She sat very quiet, her eyes on the lake. 
 When she looked up, the eyes had 
 brimmed over "Why, Betty!" 
 
 "I didn t mean to," said the child. 
 She was searching for her handkerchief 
 and the little cherries bobbed forward 
 .... "I didn t know they would 
 spill!" She had found the handker- 
 
 79
 
 80 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 chief now and was wiping them away, 
 and she smiled at Miss Stone a brave 
 smile that was going to be happy- 
 Miss Stone smiled back, with a little 
 head-shake. Foolish Betty!" 
 
 I didn t expect them," said the 
 child, "I was just thinking about Mr. 
 Achilles and they came just came! 
 They just came!" she repeated sternly. 
 She gave a final dab to the handker 
 chief and stowed it away, sitting very 
 erect and still. 
 
 Miss Stone s eyes studied her face. 
 We cannot go to-day," she said, 
 " and to-morrow we start for the 
 country. Perhaps " she paused, 
 thinking it out. 
 
 But the child s eyes took it up and 
 danced. He can make us a visit, she 
 said, nodding a visit of three weeks ! 
 She smiled happily. 
 
 Miss Stone smiled back, shaking her 
 head. "He could not leave the fruit- 
 shop " 
 
 But the child ignored it. "He will 
 come," she said quickly, "and we shall
 
 FOR A LONG DRIVE 81 
 
 talk and talk about the gods, you 
 know She lifted her eyes, "and we 
 shall go in the fields He will come!" 
 She drew a deep sigh of satisfaction 
 and lifted her head 
 
 And Miss Stone, watching her, had a 
 feeling of quick relief. She had known 
 for a day or two that the child was not 
 well, and they had hurried to get away 
 to the fields. This was their last drive. 
 To-morrow the horses would be sent on ; 
 and the next day they would all go in 
 the great touring car that would eat up 
 the miles, and pass the horses, and 
 reach Idlewood long before them. 
 
 No one except Betty and Miss Stone 
 used the horses now. They would have 
 been sold long ago had it not been for 
 the child. The carriage was a part of 
 her and the clicking hoofs and soft- 
 shining skins and arching necks. The 
 sound of the hoofs on the pavement 
 played little tunes for Betty. Her 
 mother had protested against expense, 
 and her father had grumbled a little; 
 but if the child wanted the carriage
 
 82 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 rather than the great car that could 
 whir her away in a breath, it must be 
 kept. 
 
 It made a pretty picture this morn 
 ing as it turned into the busier street 
 and took its way among the dark, snout 
 ing cars that pushed and sped. It was 
 like a delicate dream that shimmered 
 and touched the pavement or like a 
 
 breath of the past and the great 
 
 cars skimmed around it and pushed on 
 with quick honk and left it far behind. 
 
 But the carriage kept its way with un 
 hurried rhythm into the busy street 
 and out again into a long avenue where 
 great houses of cement and grey stone 
 stood guard. 
 
 No one was in sight, up and down its 
 clear length only the morning sun 
 shining on the grey stones and on the 
 pavement and the little jingling in the 
 harness and the joyous child and the 
 quiet grey woman beside her. 
 
 I shall not be gone a minute, Betty, 
 said Miss Stone. The carriage had 
 drawn up before the great shadow of a
 
 FOR A LONG DRIVE 83 
 
 house. She gave the child s hand a lit 
 tle pat and stepped from the carriage. 
 
 But at the door there was a minute s 
 question and, with a nod to Betty, she 
 stepped inside. 
 
 When the door opened again, and she 
 came out with quick step she glanced 
 at her watch the errand had taken 
 more than its minute, and there were 
 others to be done, and they were late. 
 She lifted her eyes to the carriage 
 and stopped. 
 
 The coachman, from the corner of his 
 eye, waited for orders. But Miss 
 Stone did not stir. Her glance swept 
 the quiet street and came back to the 
 carriage standing with empty cushions 
 in the shadow of the house. 
 
 The coachman turned a stolid eye and 
 caught a glimpse of her face and 
 wheeled quickly his eye searching 
 space. "There wa n t nobody!" he 
 said. He almost shouted it, and his big 
 hands gripped hard on the reins. . . . 
 His face was grey "There wa n t no 
 body here ! " he repeated dully.
 
 84 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 But Miss Stone did not look at him. 
 " Drive to the Greek s. You know- 
 where she went before." She would 
 not give herself time to think sitting 
 a little forward on the seat of course 
 the child had gone to the Greek to 
 Mr. Achilles. . . . They should find her 
 in a minute. There was nothing else 
 to think about no shadowy fear that 
 had leaped to meet the look in James s 
 face when it turned to her. The child 
 would be there 
 
 The carriage drew up before the 
 shop, with its glowing lines of fruit un 
 der the striped awning, and Miss Stone 
 had descended before the wheel scraped 
 the curb, her glance searching the door 
 and the dim room beyond. She halted 
 on the threshold, peering in. 
 
 A man came from the rear of the 
 room, his hands outstretched to serve 
 her. The dark, clear face, with its 
 Greek lines, and the eyes that looked 
 out at her held a welcome. "You 
 do me honour," he said. "I hope Ma 
 dame is well and the little Lady ?"
 
 FOR A LONG DRIVE 85 
 
 Then he stopped. Something in Miss 
 Stone s face held him and his hand 
 groped a little, reaching toward her 
 "You tell me " he said. 
 
 But she did not speak, and the look 
 in her face grew very still. . . . 
 
 He turned sharply calling into the 
 shop behind him, and a boy came run 
 ning, his eyes flashing a quick laugh, his 
 teeth glinting. 
 
 "I go," said the man, with quick ges 
 ture "You keep shop I go." He 
 had taken off his white apron and 
 seized a hat. He touched the woman 
 on the shoulder. "Come," he said. 
 
 She looked at him with dazed 
 glance. . . . And put her hand to 
 her head. "I cannot think," she said 
 slowly. 
 
 He nodded with steady glance. 
 "When we go, you tell we find her," 
 he said. 
 
 She started then and looked at him 
 and the clear colour came to her face. 
 "You know where she is!" 
 
 But he shook his head. "We find
 
 86 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 her/ he repeated. "You tell." 
 
 And as they threaded the streets into 
 drays and past clanging cars and 
 through the tangle of wheels and horses 
 and noise and she told him the story, 
 shouting it above the rumble and hurry 
 of the streets, into the dark ear that bent 
 beside her. 
 
 The look in Achilles s face deepened, 
 but its steady quiet did not change. 
 "We find her," he repeated each 
 time, and Miss Stone s heart caught 
 the rhythm of it, under the hateful 
 noise. "We find her. . . ." 
 
 Then the great house on the lake 
 faced them. 
 
 She looked at him a minute in doubt. 
 Her face broke "She may have 
 come home?" she said. 
 
 "I go with you," said Achilles. 
 
 There was no sign of life, but the door 
 swung open before them and they went 
 into the great hall up the long stair 
 way that echoed only vacant softness, 
 and into the library with its ranging 
 rows of perfect books. She motioned
 
 FOR A LONG DRIVE 87 
 
 him before her. "I must tell them," she 
 said. She passed through the draperies 
 of another door and the silence of the 
 great house settled itself about the man 
 and waited with him.
 
 XI 
 
 TWO MEN FACE EACH OTHEB 
 
 HE looked about the room with quiet 
 face. It was the room he had been in 
 before the day he spoke to the Hal 
 cyon Club the ladies with costly gowns 
 and strange hats, who had listened so 
 politely while he told them of Athens 
 and his beloved land. The room had 
 been lighted then, with coloured lamps 
 and globes a kind of rosy radiance. 
 Now the daylight came in through the 
 high windows and filtered down upon 
 him over brown books and soft, leather- 
 covered walls. There was no sound in 
 the big room. It seemed shut off from 
 the world and Achilles sat very quiet, 
 his dark face a little bent, his gaze fixed 
 on the rug at his feet. He was thinking 
 of the child and of her face when she 
 had lifted it to him out of the crowded 
 street, that first day, and smiled at 
 
 88
 
 him and of their long talks since. 
 
 It was the Child who understood. The 
 strange ladies had smiled at him and 
 talked to him and drank their tea and 
 talked again ... he could hear the soft, 
 keen humming of their voices and the 
 flitter of garments all about him as they 
 moved. But the child had sat very still- 
 only her face lifted, while he told her 
 of Athens and its beauty . . * and he 
 had told her again and again. She 
 would never tire of it as he could 
 
 never tire She was a child of 
 
 light in the great new world. ... a 
 child like himself in the hurry of the 
 
 noise A sound came to him in 
 
 the distant house people talking low 
 voices that spoke and hurried on. . . . 
 The house was awake quick questions 
 ran through it doors sounded and were 
 still. Achilles turned his face toward 
 the opening into the long wide hall, and 
 waited. Through the vista there was a 
 glimpse of the stairway and a figure 
 passing up it a short, square man who 
 hurried. Then silence again more
 
 90 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 bells and running feet. But no one 
 came to the library and no one sought 
 the dark figure seated there, wait 
 ing Strange foreign faces flashed 
 
 themselves in the great mirror and out. 
 The outer door opened and closed 
 noiselessly to admit them uncouth fig 
 ures that passed swiftly up the stair 
 way, glancing curiously about them 
 and dapper men who did not look up as 
 
 they went The house settled again 
 
 to quiet, and the long afternoon, while 
 Achilles waited. The light from the 
 high windows grew dusky under chairs 
 and tables ; it withdrew softly along the 
 gleaming books and hovered in the air 
 above them a kind of halo and the 
 shadows crept up and closed about him. 
 Through the open door, a light appeared 
 in the hall. A moving figure had 
 turned it on suddenly. The figure ad 
 vanced to the library, and paused in the 
 doorway, and came in. There was a 
 minute s fumbling at the electric button, 
 and the soft lights came, by magic, 
 everywhere in the room. . . . The serv-
 
 Two MEN FACE EACH OTHER 91 
 
 ant gave a quick glance about him, and 
 started sternly and came forward. . . . 
 Then he recognised the man. It was 
 the Greek. But he looked at him 
 sternly. The day had been full of sus 
 picion and question and the house was 
 alive to it "What do you want?" he 
 said harshly. 
 
 "I wait," said Achilles. 
 
 "Who told you to come?" demanded 
 the man. 
 
 "I come. I wait," said Achilles. 
 
 The man disappeared. Presently he 
 returned. "You come with me," he 
 said. His look was less stern, but he 
 raised his voice a little, as if speaking 
 to a child, or a deaf man. "You come 
 with me," he repeated. 
 
 Achilles followed with quick-gliding 
 foot along the corridor, through a great 
 room to a door. The man paused and 
 lifted his hand and knocked. His back 
 was tense, as if he held himself ready 
 to spring. 
 
 A voice sounded and he turned the 
 handle softly, and looked at Achilles.
 
 92 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Then the door opened and the Greek 
 passed in and the man closed the door 
 behind him. 
 
 A man seated at a table across the 
 room, looked up. . . . For a minute the 
 two men looked at each other the one 
 short and square and red ; the other thin 
 as a reed, with the dark, clear eyes. 
 
 The short man spoke first. "What 
 do you know about this?" His hand 
 pressed a heap of papers upon the desk 
 before him and his eyes searched the 
 dark face. 
 
 Achilles s glance rested on the papers 
 then it lifted itself. 
 
 "Your name is Achilles!" said the 
 other sharply. 
 
 "Achilles Alexandrakis yes." The 
 Greek bowed. 
 
 "I know she called you Mr. Achil 
 les," said the man. 
 
 A shadow rested on the two faces, 
 looking at each other. 
 
 "She is lost," said the father. He 
 said it under his breath, as if denying it. 
 
 "I find her," said Achilles quietly.
 
 Two MEN FACE EACH OTHER 93 
 
 The man leaned forward something 
 like a sneer on his face. "She is 
 stolen, I tell you and the rascals have 
 got at their work quick!" He struck 
 the pile of papers on the desk. "They 
 will give her up for ten thousand dol 
 lars to-night." He glanced at the 
 clock on the wall, ticking its minutes, 
 hurrying to six o clock. 
 
 The dark eyes had followed the 
 glance; they came back to the man s 
 face "You pay that ten thousand 
 dollar?" said Achilles. 
 
 "I shall be damned first!" said the 
 man with slow emphasis. "But we 
 shall find them His square, red jaw 
 held the words, "and they shall pay- 
 God! they shall pay!" The room rang 
 to the word. It was a small bare room- 
 only the table and two chairs, the clock 
 on the wall and a desk across the 
 room. "Sit down, said Philip Harris. 
 He motioned to the chair before him. 
 
 But Achilles did not take it, he rested 
 a hand on the back, looking down at him. 
 "I glad you not pay," he said.
 
 94 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 The other lifted his eyebrows. "I 
 shall pay the man that finds her the 
 man that brings her back! You under 
 stand that!" His bright, little glance 
 had keen scorn. 
 
 But the face opposite him did not 
 change. "I find her," said Achilles 
 again. 
 
 "Then you get the ten thousand," 
 said the man. He shifted a little in his 
 chair. They were all alike these for 
 eigners money was what they wanted 
 and plenty of it. The sneer on his face 
 deepened abruptly. 
 
 Achilles s glance was on the clock. 
 "It makes bad to pay that money," he 
 said. "When you pay more child 
 stole to-morrow, more child stole 
 more money " His dark hand lifted 
 itself out over the houses of the great 
 city and all the sleepy children making 
 ready for bed. 
 
 The other nodded. His round, soft 
 paunch pressed against the table and 
 his quick eyes were on Achilles s face. 
 His great finger leaped out and shook
 
 itself and lay on the table. "I will 
 not give one cent!" he said hoarsely. 
 
 "You be good man," said Achilles 
 solemnly. 
 
 "I will not be bullied by them and 
 I will not be a fool!" He lifted his 
 eyes to the clock and a look passed in 
 his face a little whirring chime and the 
 clock was still. 
 
 In the silence, the telephone rang 
 sharply. His hand leaped out and 
 waited and his eye sought Achilles 
 and gathered itself, and he lifted the 
 dark, burring Thing to his ear.
 
 XII 
 
 THE TELEPHONE SPEAKS 
 
 SLOWLY the look on his face grew 
 to something hard and round and 
 bright. . . . His lips tightened "is that 
 all? Good-bye!" His voice sounded in 
 the tube and was gone, and he hung up 
 the receiver. "They make it twenty 
 thousand for one hour," he said drily. 
 
 Achilles bent forward, his face on fire, 
 his finger pointing to the Thing. 
 
 "They are right there!" said the 
 man. He gave a short laugh "Can t 
 trace them that way we have tried 
 They ve tapped a wire. Central is after 
 them. But they won t get em that 
 way. . . . Sit down and I will talk to 
 you." He motioned again to the chair 
 and the Greek seated himself, bending 
 forward a little to catch the murmur and 
 half -incoherent jerks that the man 
 spoke. 
 
 96
 
 THE TELEPHONE SPEAKS 97 
 
 Now and then the Greek nodded, or 
 his dark face lighted; and once or twice 
 he spoke. But for the most part it was 
 a rapid monologue, told in breathless 
 words. 
 
 The great Philip Harris had no hope 
 that the ignorant man sitting before him 
 could help him. But there was a curi 
 ous relief in talking to him; and as he 
 talked, he found the story shaping it 
 self in his mind things related fell into 
 place, and things apart came suddenly 
 together. The story ran back for 
 years there had been earlier attempts, 
 but the child had been guarded with 
 strictest care; and lately they had come 
 to feel secure. They had thought the 
 band was broken up. The blow had 
 fallen out of a clear sky. They had not 
 the slightest clue all day the detectives 
 had gathered the great city in their 
 hands and sifted it through careful fin 
 gers. A dozen men had been arrested, 
 but there was no clue. The New York 
 men were on the way; they would ar 
 rive in the morning, and meantime the
 
 98 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 great man sat in his bare room, helpless. 
 He looked into the dark eyes opposite 
 him and found a curious comfort 
 there. . . "The child knew you," he said. 
 
 "Yes she know me. We love," said 
 Achilles simply. 
 
 The other smiled a little. It would 
 not have occurred to him to say that 
 Betty loved him. He was not sure that 
 she did as he thought of it. . . . She 
 had always the quick smile for him 
 and for everyone. But there had been 
 no time for foolishness between him and 
 Betty. He had hardly known her for 
 the last year or two. He shifted a lit 
 tle in his place, shading his eyes from 
 the light, and looked at the Greek. 
 
 The Greek rose and stood before him. 
 "I go now," he said. 
 
 Philip Harris made no reply. He 
 was thinking, behind his hand; and his 
 mind, wrenched from its stockyards and 
 its corners and deals, seemed to be grop 
 ing toward a point of light that glim 
 mered somewhere mistily. He could 
 not focus it. The darkness tricked him,
 
 THE TELEPHONE SPEAKS 99 
 
 but somehow, vaguely, the Greek held a 
 clue. . . . He had known the child. 
 "Don t go," said Philip Harris, looking 
 up at last. 
 
 "I find her," said Achilles. 
 
 Philip Harris shook his head. "You 
 cannot find her. 1 He said it bitterly. 
 " But you can tell me sit down." He 
 leaned forward. "Now, tell me every 
 thing you know about her." 
 
 The face of Achilles lighted. "She 
 was a nice child," he said blithely. 
 
 The man smiled. "Yes go on." 
 
 So the voice of Achilles was loosened 
 and he told of Betty Harris to her 
 father sitting absorbed and silent. The 
 delight of her walk, her little hands, 
 the very tones of her voice were in his 
 words. 
 
 And the big man listened with intent 
 face. Once the telephone rang and he 
 stopped to take down something. "No 
 clue," he said, "go on." And Achil 
 les s voice took up the story again. 
 
 His hands reached out in the words, 
 quick gestures made a halo about them,
 
 100 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 lips and smiles spoke, and ran the words 
 to a laugh that made the child s pres 
 ence in the room. 
 
 The father listened dumbly. Then si 
 lence fell in the room and the clock 
 ticked. 
 
 And while the two men sat in silence, 
 something came between them and knit 
 them. . . . And when Achilles rose to 
 go, the great man held out his hand, 
 simply. "You have helped me," he 
 said. . . . 
 
 "I help yes " said Achilles. 
 Then he turned his head. A door 
 across the room had opened and a 
 woman stood in it looking at them.
 
 XIII 
 
 EVEBYONE MUST PAY 
 
 ACHILLES saw her, and moved forward 
 swiftly. But she ignored him her eyes 
 were on the short, square man seated at 
 the table, and she came to him, bending 
 close. "You must pay, Phil," she said. 
 The words held themselves in her red 
 dened eyes, and her fingers picked a lit 
 tle at the lace on her dress . . . then 
 they trembled and reached out to him 
 "You must pay!" she said hoarsely. 
 
 But the man did not stir. 
 
 The woman lifted her eyes and looked 
 at Achilles. There was no recognition 
 in the glance only a kind of impatience 
 that he was there. The Greek moved 
 toward the door but the great man 
 stayed him. "Don t go," he said. He 
 reached up a hand to his wife, laying it 
 on her shoulder. "We can t pay, dear 
 est," he said slowly. 
 101
 
 102 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Her open lips regarded him and the 
 quick tears were in her eyes. She 
 brushed them back, and looked at him 
 "Let me pay!" she said, fiercely, "I will 
 give up everything and pay!" She 
 had crouched to him, her groping fin 
 gers on his arm. 
 
 Above her head the glances of the two 
 men met. 
 
 Her husband bent to her, speaking 
 very slowly ... to a child. 
 
 "Listen, Louie they might give her 
 back to-day if we paid . . . but they 
 would take her again to-morrow next 
 week next year. . . . We shall never 
 be safe if we pay. . . . Nobody will be 
 safe" 
 
 Her face was on his arm, sobbing 
 close. ... "I hate it!" she said bro 
 kenly, "I hate your money! I want 
 Betty!" The cry went through the 
 room and the man was on his feet, 
 looking down at her 
 
 "Don t, Louie," he said " don t, 
 dear I can t bear that ! . . . See, dear 
 sit down!" He had placed her in the
 
 EVERYONE MUST PAY 103 
 
 chair and was crooning to her, bending 
 to her. . . . "We shall have her back 
 soon now. . ." 
 
 The telephone was whirring and he 
 sprang to it 
 
 The woman lifted her face, staring at 
 it. ... 
 
 The Greek s deep eyes fixed them 
 selves on it. ... 
 
 The room was so still they could hear 
 the tiny, ironic words flinging themselves 
 spitefully in the room and biting upon 
 the air "Time s up," the Thing tit 
 tered "Make it fifty thousand now 
 for a day. . . . Fifty thousand down 
 and child delivered safe Br-r-r-r!" 
 
 The woman sprang forward "Tell 
 them we ll pay, Phil give it to me 
 Yes yes we ll pay!" She struggled 
 a little but the hand had thrust her 
 back and the receiver was on its 
 hook. "We shall not pay!" said the 
 man sternly, "not if they make it a 
 million ! 
 
 "I think they make it a million," said 
 Achilles quietly.
 
 104 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 They looked up at him with startled 
 eyes. 
 
 "They know you rich " his hands 
 flung themselves. "So rich! They 
 make you pay yes they make every 
 one pay, I think!" His dark eyes were 
 on the woman significantly 
 
 "What do you mean?" she said 
 swiftly. 
 
 "If you pay they steal them every 
 where little children. ..." His eyes 
 seemed to see them at play in the sun 
 shine and the dark shadows stealing 
 upon them. . . . The woman s eyes 
 were on his face, breathless. . . . 
 
 "They have taken Betty!" she said. 
 It was a broken cry. 
 
 "We find her," said Achilles sim 
 ply. . . . "Then little children play 
 happy." He turned to go. 
 
 But the woman stayed him. Her face 
 trembled to hold itself steady under his 
 glance "I want to save the children, 
 too," she said. "I will be brave!" 
 
 Her husband s startled face was
 
 EVERYONE MUST PAY 105 
 
 turned to her and she smiled to it 
 bravely. "Help me, Phil!" she said. 
 She reached out her hands to him and 
 he took them tenderly. . . . He had not 
 been so near her for years. She was 
 looking in his face, smiling still, across 
 the white line of her lip. "I shall 
 help," she said slowly. "But you must 
 not trust me, dear not too far. ... I 
 want my little girl- 
 There were tears in the eyes of the 
 two men and the Greek went softly 
 out, closing the door. Down the wide 
 hallway out of the great door, with its 
 stately carvings and the two pink stone 
 lions that guarded the way out to the 
 clear night of stars. The breeze blew 
 in a little breath from the lake, that 
 lapped upon the breakwater and died 
 out. Achilles stood very still lifting 
 his face to it. ... Behind him, in the 
 city, little children were asleep . . . and 
 in the great house the man and the 
 woman waited alone for the help that 
 was coming to them running with
 
 106 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 swift feet in the night. It sped upon 
 iron rails and crept beneath the ground 
 and whispered in the air and in the 
 heart of Achilles it dreamed under the 
 quiet stars.
 
 XTV 
 
 THE PEICE ACHILLES PAID 
 
 THE little shop was closed. The fruit- 
 trays had been carried in and the shut 
 ters put up, and from an upper window 
 a line of light gleamed on the deserted 
 street. Achilles glanced at it and 
 turned into an alley at the side, grop 
 ing his way toward the rear. He 
 stopped and fumbled for a knob and 
 rapped sharply. But a hand was al 
 ready on the door, scrambling to undo 
 it, and an eager face confronted him, 
 flashing white teeth at him. "You 
 come!" said the boy swiftly. 
 
 He turned and fled up the stairs and 
 Achilles followed. A faint sense of 
 onions was in the air. Achilles sniffed 
 it gratefully. He remembered suddenly 
 that he had not eaten since morning. 
 But the boy did not pause for him he 
 was beckoning with mysterious hand 
 
 107
 
 108 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 from a doorway and Achilles followed. 
 "Alcie got hurt," whispered the boy. 
 He was trembling with fear and excite 
 ment, and he pointed to the bed across 
 the room. 
 
 Achilles stepped, with lightest tread, 
 and looked down. A boy, half asleep, 
 murmured and turned his head rest 
 lessly. A red-clotted blur ran along the 
 forehead, and the face, streaked with 
 mud, was drawn in a look of pain As 
 Achilles bent over him, the boy cried 
 out and threw up a hand ; then he turned 
 his head, muttering, and dozed again. 
 
 Achilles withdrew lightly, beckoning 
 to the boy beside him. 
 
 Yaxis followed, his eyes on the figure 
 on the bed "All day," he said, "he lie 
 sick. 
 
 Achilles closed the door softly and 
 turned to him. "Tell me, Yaxis, what 
 happened," he said. 
 
 The boy s face opened dramatically. 
 "I look up I see Alcie like that " 
 his gesture flitted to the room "He 
 stand in door all covered mud blood
 
 THE PRICE ACHILLES PAID 109 
 
 run cart broke no fruit no hat." 
 The boy s hands were everywhere, as he 
 spoke, dispensing fruit, smashing carts 
 and filling up the broken words with 
 horror and a flow of blood. Achilles s 
 face grew grave. . . . The Greeks were 
 not without persecution in the land of 
 freedom, and his boy had lain all day 
 suffering while he had been lost in the 
 great house by the lake. 
 
 He took off his coat and turned back 
 his sleeves. "You bring water," he 
 said gently. "We will see what hurts 
 him." 
 
 But the boy had put his supper on the 
 table and was beckoning him with swift 
 gesture. "You eat," he said plead 
 ingly. And Achilles ate hastily and 
 gave directions for the basin of water 
 and towels and a sponge, and the boy 
 carried them into the room beyond. 
 
 Half an hour later Alcibiades lay in 
 bed, his clothes removed and the blood 
 washed from his face and hair. The 
 clotted line still oozed a little on the 
 temple and the look of pain had not gone
 
 110 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 away. Achilles watched him with anx 
 ious eyes. He bent over the bed and 
 spoke to him soothingly, his voice gen 
 tle as a woman s in its soft Greek ac 
 cents; but the look of pain in the boy s 
 face deepened and his voice chattered 
 shrill 
 
 They watched the ambulance drive 
 away from in front of the striped awn 
 ing. Achilles held a card in his thin 
 fingers a card that would admit him to 
 his boy. Yaxis s eyes were gloomy with 
 dread, and his quick movements were 
 subdued as he went about the busi 
 ness of the shop, carrying the trays of 
 fruit to the stall outside and arranging 
 the fruit under the striped awning. He 
 was not to go out with the push-cart to 
 day. There was too much work to do 
 and Achilles could not let the boy go 
 from him. . . . Later, too, Achilles 
 must go to the hospital and to the big 
 house on the lake, and someone must 
 be left with the shop. 
 
 So he kept the boy beside him, look-
 
 THE PRICE ACHILLES PAID 111 
 
 ing at him, now and then, with deep, 
 quiet eyes that seemed to see the city 
 taking its toll of life of children the 
 children at play and the children at 
 
 work This land that he had 
 
 sought with his boys where the wind 
 of freedom blew fresh from the prairies 
 and the sea and even little chil 
 dren were not safe! He seemed to see 
 it through the day this great monster 
 that gathered them in from all lands 
 and trod them beneath its great feet, 
 crushing them, while they lifted them 
 selves to it and threw themselves and 
 prayed to it for the new day that they 
 had come so far to seek. 
 
 But when Achilles presented his 
 ticket for the boy, at the hospital door, 
 it was a woman of his own race who met 
 him, dark-eyed and strong and smiled 
 at him a flash of sympathy. "Yes he 
 is doing well. They operated at once. . . . 
 Come and see. But you must not speak 
 to him." She led him cautiously down 
 the long corridor between the beds 
 "See, he is asleep." She bent over
 
 112 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 him, touching the bandage. Beneath it, 
 the dark skin was pallid, but the breath 
 came easily from the sleeping lips. 
 
 She smiled at Achilles, guiding him 
 from the room, ignoring the tears that 
 looked at her. "He is doing well, you 
 see. It was pressure that caused the 
 fever, the bone was not injured. He 
 will recover quickly. Yes. We are 
 glad!" 
 
 And Achilles, out under the clear sky, 
 raised his face and caught the sound of 
 the city its murmured, innumerable 
 toil and the great clang of wheels turn 
 ing. . . . And he drew a deep, quick 
 breath. ... A city of power and swift 
 care for its own. . . . The land of many 
 hands reaching out to the world. . . . 
 And Achilles s head lifted itself under 
 the sky; and a mighty force knit within 
 him a deep, quiet force out of the soul 
 of the past pledging itself.
 
 XV 
 
 THE POLICE MOVE 
 
 LIFE was busy for Achilles. There were 
 visits to the hospital where he must 
 not speak to his boy, but only look at 
 him and catch little silent smiles from 
 the bandaged face and visits to the 
 great house on the lake, where he came 
 and went freely. The doors swung 
 open of themselves, it seemed, as Achil 
 les mounted the steps between the lions. 
 All the pretty life and flutter of the 
 place was changed. Detectives went in 
 and out; and instead of the Halcyon 
 Club, the Chief of Police and assistants 
 held conferences in the big library. 
 But there was no clue to the child! . . . 
 She had withdrawn, it seemed, into a 
 clear sky. James had been summoned 
 to the library many times, and ques 
 tioned sharply; but his wooden counte 
 nance held no light and the tale did not 
 
 113
 
 114 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 change by a hair. He had held the 
 horses. Yes and there wasn t nobody 
 but little Miss Harris and him. . . . 
 She was in the carriage he held the 
 horses. The horses ? They had frisked 
 a bit, maybe, the way horses will at one 
 o them autos that squirted by, and he 
 had quieted em down but there 
 wa n t nobody. . . . And he was the 
 last link between little Betty Harris and 
 the world all the bustling, wrestling, 
 interested world of Chicago that 
 shouted extras and stared at the house 
 on the lake and peered in at its life 
 at the rising and eating and sleeping 
 that went on behind the red-stone walls. 
 The red-stone walls had thinned to a 
 veil and the whole world might look 
 in because a child had been snatched 
 away; and the heart of a city under 
 stood. But no one but James could 
 have told what had happened to the 
 child sitting with her little red cherries 
 in the light; and James was stupid 
 and in the bottomless abyss of James s 
 face the clue was lost.
 
 THE POLICE MOVE 115 
 
 Achilles had come in for his share of 
 questioning. The child had been to his 
 shop, it seemed. . . . and the papers 
 took it up and made much of it there 
 were headlines and pictures. . . . the 
 public was interested. The tale grew 
 to a romance, and fathers and mothers 
 and children in Boston and New York 
 and London heard how Betty had sat in 
 the gay little fruit-shop and listened to 
 Achilles s stories of Athens and Greece, 
 and of the Acropolis and of the studies 
 in Greek history, and her gods and god 
 desses and the temples and ruins lying 
 packed in their boxes waiting her re 
 turn. The daily papers were a thrilling 
 tale with the quick touch of love and 
 human sympathy that brings the world 
 together. 
 
 To Achilles it was as if the hand of 
 Zeus had reached and touched the child 
 and she was not. What god sheltered 
 her beneath a magic veil so that she 
 passed unseen? He lifted his face, 
 seeking in air and sun and cloud, a to 
 ken. Over the lake came the great
 
 116 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 breeze, speaking to him, and out of the 
 air a thousand hands reached to him 
 to tell him of the child. But he could 
 not find the place that held her. In the 
 dusky shop, he held his quiet way. No 
 one, looking, would have guessed 
 "Two cen s, yes," and his swift fingers 
 made change while his eyes searched 
 every face. But the child, in her shining 
 cloud, was not revealed. 
 
 When he was summoned before the 
 detectives and questioned, with swift 
 sternness, it was his own questions that 
 demanded answer and got it. The 
 men gathered in the library, baffled by 
 the search, and asking futile, dreary 
 questions, learned to wait in amusement 
 for the quick, searching gestures flung 
 at them and the eager face that seemed 
 to drink their words. Gradually they 
 came to understand the Greek was 
 learning the science of kidnapping its 
 methods and devices and the probable 
 plan of approach. But the Chief shook 
 his head. "You won t trace these men 
 by any of the old tricks. It s a new
 
 THE POLICE MOVE 117 
 
 deal. We shall only get them by a 
 fluke. " And to his own men he said, 
 "Try any old chance, boys, ran it 
 down if it takes weeks Harris won t 
 compromise and you may stumble on a 
 clue. The man that finds it makes 
 money." Gradually they drew their 
 lines around the city; but still, from 
 the tapped wires, the messages came 
 to them, sitting in conclave in the li 
 brary to Philip Harris in his bare office 
 and to the mother, waiting alone in her 
 room. 
 
 At last she could not bear it. "I can 
 not hold out, Philip," she said, one day, 
 when he had come in and found her 
 hanging up the receiver with a fixed 
 look. " Don t trust me, dear. Take 
 me away." And that night the big 
 car had borne her swiftly from the 
 city, out to the far-breathing air of the 
 plain and the low hills. In her room 
 in the house on the lake, her little tel 
 ephone bell tinkled, and waited, and 
 rang again baffled by long silence 
 and by discreet replies. . . . The tapped
 
 118 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 wires concentrated now upon Philip 
 Harris, working by suggestion, and 
 veiled threat, on his overwrought nerves 
 till his hand shook when he reached out 
 to the receiver and his voice betrayed 
 him in his denials. They were closing 
 on him, with hints of an ultimatum. 
 He dared not trust himself. He left 
 the house to the detectives and went 
 down to the offices, where he could work 
 and no one could get at him. Every 
 message from the outside world came 
 to him sifted, and he breathed more 
 freely as he took up the telephone. The 
 routine of business steadied him. In a 
 week he should be himself -he could re 
 turn to the attack. 
 
 Then a message got through to him 
 up through the offices. The man who 
 delivered it spoke in a clear, straight 
 voice that did not rise or fall. He had 
 agreed to give the message, he said a 
 hundred thousand paid to-day, or no 
 communication for three months. The 
 child would be taken out of the coun 
 try. The men behind the deal were
 
 THE POLICE MOVE 119 
 
 getting tired and would drop the whole 
 business. They had been more than 
 fair in the chances they had offered for 
 
 compromise There was a little 
 
 pause in the message then the voice 
 went on, "I am one of your own men, 
 Harris, inside the works a man that 
 you killed in the way of business. I 
 agreed to give you the message for 
 quits. Good-bye." The voice rang off 
 and Philip Harris sat alone. 
 
 A man that he had killed in the way 
 
 of business ! Hundreds of 
 
 them at work for him New York 
 Cincinnati St. Louis. It would not be 
 easy to trace a man that he had killed 
 in business 
 
 So he sat with bent head, in the circle 
 of his own works . . . the network he 
 had spread over the land and some 
 where, outside that circle, his child, the 
 very heart, was held as hostage three 
 months. . . . Little Betty! He shiv 
 ered a little and got up and reached for 
 a flask of brandy and poured it out, 
 gulping it down. He looked about the
 
 120 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 room. . . . inside now. He had shut 
 himself in his citadel. . . . and they 
 were inside. The brandy stayed his 
 hand from shaking but he knew that 
 
 he had weakened His mind went 
 
 back to the man he had " killed in busi 
 ness" the straight, clear voice sound 
 ing over the phone he had not 
 wanted to ruin him them, hundreds of 
 them It was the System kill or be 
 killed. . . . He took his chance and they 
 took theirs and they had gone down.
 
 XVI 
 
 A CLUE GOES TO SLEEP 
 
 THE morning was alive in the hospital. 
 The sun glinted in. Pale faces, lifted 
 on their pillows, turned toward it; and 
 Achilles, passing with light step be 
 tween the rows, smiled at them. Alci- 
 biades was better. They had told him, 
 in the office, that he might talk to him 
 to-day a little while and his face 
 glowed with the joy of it. 
 
 The boy hailed him, from far down 
 the ward, his weak voice filled with 
 gladness, and Achilles hurried. He 
 dropped into the chair beside him and 
 took the thin hand in his strong, dark 
 one, holding it while he talked gentle 
 words, full of the morning and of going 
 home. The boy s eyes brightened, 
 watching his father s face. 
 
 "Pain gone," he said, " all gone." 
 His hand lifted to his forehead. 
 121
 
 122 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Achilles bent forward and touched it 
 lightly, brushing the hair across it. 
 "You are well now," he said gratefully. 
 
 The boy smiled, his dark eyes fixed 
 absently on his thoughts. "They bad 
 men!" he said abruptly. 
 
 Achilles leaned forward with anxious 
 look, but the boy s eyes were clear. 
 "They run down," he said quietly, 
 " and go fast like wind I try I 
 run. They shout and hit cart and 
 swear and I lie on ground. . . ." 
 His lifted eyes seemed to be looking up 
 at some great object passing close above 
 him . . . and a look of dread held them. 
 He drew a quick breath. "They bad 
 men he said. "Little girl cry!" 
 
 Achilles bent forward, holding his 
 breath. "What was it Alcie?" 
 
 The boy s eyes turned toward him 
 trustingly. "They hurt bad," he said. 
 "I try I run" 
 
 "And the little girl f" suggested 
 Achilles gently. His voice would not 
 have turned the breath of a dream; but 
 Alcibiades wrinkled his forehead. "She
 
 A CLUE GOES TO SLEEP 123 
 
 cry he said. "She look at me and 
 cry quick They hurt that little girl 
 Yes she cry His eyes closed 
 sleepily. The nurse came forward. 
 
 "Better not talk any more," she said. 
 
 Achilles got to his feet. He bent 
 over the boy, his heart beating fast. 
 "Good-bye, Alcie. To-morrow you tell 
 me more all about the little girl. . ." 
 The words dropped quietly into the 
 sleeping ear and the boy turned his 
 
 face "To-morrow tell about 
 
 little girl "he murmured and 
 
 was asleep. 
 
 Achilles passed swiftly out of the hos 
 pital through the sun-glinting wards, 
 out to the free air his heart choking 
 him. At the corner, he caught a car 
 bound for the South side and boarded 
 it. 
 
 And at the same moment Philip Har 
 ris, in his office in the works, was sum 
 moning the Chief of Police to instruct 
 him to open negotiations with the kid 
 nappers. 
 
 But Achilles reached the office first
 
 124 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 and before noon every member of the 
 force knew that a clue had been found 
 a clue light as a child s breath be 
 tween sleep and waking, but none the 
 less a clue and to-morrow more would 
 be known. 
 
 So Philip Harris stayed his hand 
 because of the muttered, half-incoher 
 ent word of a Greek boy, drowsing in a 
 great sunny ward, the millionaire 
 waited and little children were safer 
 that night.
 
 xvn 
 
 PHILIP HARRIS WAKES UP 
 
 BUT the surgeon, the next morning, 
 shook his head peremptorily. . . . His 
 patient had been tampered with, and 
 was worse it was a critical case all 
 the skill and science of modern surgery 
 
 involved in it the brain had 
 
 barely escaped by a breath, it might 
 
 be no one could tell but the 
 
 boy must be kept quiet. There must be 
 no more agitation. They must wait for 
 full recovery. Above all nothing that 
 recalled the accident. Let nature take 
 her own time and the boy might yet 
 speak out clearly and tell them what they 
 wanted otherwise the staff could not 
 be responsible. 
 
 It was to Philip Harris himself that 
 the decree was given, sitting in the con 
 sulting-room of the white hospital- 
 looking about him with quick eyes. He 
 
 125
 
 126 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 had taken out his cheque-book and 
 written a sum that doubled the efficiency 
 of the hospital, and the surgeon had 
 thanked him quietly and laid it aside. 
 "Everything is being done for the boy, 
 Mr. Harris, that we can do. But one 
 cannot foresee the result. He may 
 come through with clear mind he may 
 remember the past he may remember 
 part of it but not the part you 
 want But not a breath must dis 
 turb him that is the one thing clear 
 and it is our only chance." His eyes 
 were gentle and keen, and Philip Harris 
 straightened himself a little beneath 
 them. The cheque, laid one side, looked 
 
 suddenly small and empty and 
 
 the great stockyards were a blur in his 
 thought. . . . Not all of them together, 
 it seemed, could buy the skill that was 
 being given freely for a Greek waif, or 
 hurry by a hair s breadth the tiny glob 
 ule of grey matter that held his life. 
 
 "Tell me if there is anything I can 
 do," he said. He had risen and was 
 facing the surgeon, looking at him
 
 like a little boy with his hat in his 
 hand. 
 
 The surgeon returned the look. 
 There will be plenty to do, Mr. Harris. 
 This, for instance He took up the 
 cheque and looked at it and folded it in 
 slow fingers. "It will be a big lift to 
 the hospital .... and the boy there 
 will be things later for the boy 
 
 "Private room?" suggested the great 
 man. 
 
 "No the ward is better. It gives 
 him interests keeps his mind off him 
 self and keeps him from remembering 
 things. But when he can be moved, he 
 must be in the country good food, fresh 
 air, things to amuse him he s a jolly lit 
 tle chap!" The surgeon laughed out. 
 Oh, we shall bring him through. He 
 added it almost gaily. "He is so sane 
 he is a Greek!" 
 
 Philip Harris looked at him, uncom 
 prehending. "How long before he can 
 be moved?" he asked bluntly. 
 
 The surgeon paused "two weeks- 
 three perhaps I must have him under
 
 128 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 my eye I can t tell " He looked at 
 the great man keenly. "What he really 
 needs, is someone to come in for awhile 
 everyday to talk with him or keep 
 quiet with him someone with sense." 
 
 "His father?" said Philip Harris. 
 
 "Not his father. It must be someone 
 he has never seen no memories to 
 puzzle him yet. But someone that he 
 might have known always all his life." 
 
 "That is Miss Stone," said Philip 
 Harris promptly. 
 
 "Does he know Miss Stone?" asked 
 the surgeon. 
 
 Philip Harris shook his head. "No 
 one knows Miss Stone," he said; "but 
 she is the friendliest person in all the 
 world when I get to heaven, I hope 
 Marcia Stone will be there to show me 
 around just to take the edge off." He 
 smiled a little. 
 
 "Well, she is the person we want 
 can she come?" 
 
 "She sits at home with her hands 
 folded," said Philip Harris. He 
 waited a minute. "She was my little
 
 Pliilip Harris enjoyed it as if he were playing 
 with the stock exchange of a world
 
 girl s friend," he said at last. "They 
 were always together." 
 
 "I remember The surgeon held 
 out his hand. l Let her come. She will 
 be invaluable." His voice had a 
 friendly ring. It was no longer a mil 
 lionaire that faced him handing out 
 cheques but a father, like himself. 
 There were four of them at home, wait 
 ing on the stairs for him to come at 
 night and he suddenly saw that Philip 
 Harris was a brave man holding out 
 for them all waiting while the little 
 fleck of grey matter knit itself. He 
 looked at him a minute keenly "Why 
 not come in yourself, now and then," 
 he said, "as he gets better? Later, 
 when you take him away, he will know 
 you better for him." 
 
 So the ward became familiar with the 
 red face and Prince Albert coat and 
 striped trousers and patent leather 
 shoes, crunching softly down the still, 
 white room. It was a new Philip Har 
 ris, sauntering in at noon with a roll of 
 pictures a box of sweets, enough candy
 
 130 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 to ruin the ward a phonograph under 
 one arm and a new bull pup under the 
 other. The pup sprawled on the floor 
 and waked happy laughs up and down 
 the ward and was borne out, struggling, 
 by a hygienic nurse, and locked in the 
 bathroom. The phonograph stayed and 
 played little tunes for them jolly tunes, 
 of the music hall, and all outdoors. And 
 Philip Harris enjoyed it as if he were 
 playing with the stock exchange of a 
 world. The brain that could play with 
 a world when it liked, was devoted now, 
 night and day, to a great hospital stand 
 ing on the edge of the plain, and to the 
 big free ward, and to a dark face, flash 
 ing a smile when he came.
 
 XVIII 
 
 ( OlSTCE 1 SAW 
 
 Miss STONE sat by the boy on the lawn 
 at Idlewood. A great canopy of 
 khaki duck was spread above them, and 
 the boy lay on a wicker couch that could 
 be lifted and carried from place to place 
 as the wind or the sun, or a whim di 
 rected. 
 
 Five days they had been here every 
 day full of sunshine and the fragrance 
 of flowers from the garden that ran 
 along the terraces from the house to the 
 river bank, and was a riot of midsum 
 mer colour and scent. . . . The boy s 
 face had gained clear freshness and his 
 eyes, fixed on Miss Stone s face, glowed. 
 "I like it here," he said. 
 
 "Yes, Alcie." Miss Stone bent to 
 ward him. "You are getting strong 
 every day you will soon be able 
 to walk to-morrow, perhaps." She 
 
 131
 
 132 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 glanced at the thin legs under their 
 light covering. 
 
 The boy laughed a little and moved 
 them. "I can walk now he de 
 clared. 
 
 But she shook her head. * Now I will 
 tell you a story. ..." So her voice 
 went on and on in the summer quiet 
 insects buzzed faintly, playing the song 
 of the day. Bees bumbled among the 
 flowers and flew past, laden. The boy s 
 eyes followed them. The shadow of a 
 crow s wing dropped on the grass and 
 drifted by. The summer day held it 
 self . . . and Miss Stone s voice wove a 
 dream through it. 
 
 When the boy opened his eyes again 
 she was sitting very quiet, her hands in 
 her lap, her eyes fixed on the river that 
 
 flowed beyond the garden The 
 
 boy s eyes studied her face. . . . Once 
 I saw you " he said. His hand stole 
 out and touched the grey dress. 
 
 Miss Stone started. They had
 
 "ONCE I SAW- 133 
 
 waited a long time but not for this 
 "Yes Alcie once you saw me go 
 on" 
 
 " saw you in a carriage," finished 
 Alcie, with quick smile "You ride 
 straight you straight now. He 
 looked at her with devoted eyes. 
 
 "Yes." She was holding her breath, 
 very evenly and she did not look at 
 him, but at the distant river. They 
 seemed held in a charm a word might 
 break it. 
 
 The boy breathed a happy sigh that 
 bubbled forth "I like it here," he 
 said dreamily Should she speak? 
 
 The long silence spread between them. 
 The bird sang in the wood a clear, mid 
 summer call. 
 
 The boy listened, and turned his eyes. 
 "A little girl with you then," he said 
 softly, "in carriage. . . . Where is lit 
 tle girl?" It was the first question he 
 had asked. 
 
 She swayed a little in her grey soft 
 ness but she did not look at him, but
 
 134 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 at the river. "You would like that lit 
 tle girl, Alcie," she said quietly. "We 
 all love her. Some day you shall see 
 her only get well and you shall see 
 her." It was a soft word, like a cry, 
 and the boy looked at her with curious 
 eyes. 
 
 "I get well," he said contentedly, "I 
 see her." He slipped a hand under his 
 cheek and lay quiet. 
 
 "Doing well," said the surgeon, 
 "couldn t be better." He had run 
 down for the day and was to go back in 
 the cool evening. 
 
 He stood with Philip Harris on the 
 terrace overlooking the river. Harris 
 threw away a stump of cigar. . . . 
 "You think he will make complete re 
 covery?" 
 
 "No doubt of it," said the surgeon 
 promptly. 
 
 "Then?" Philip Harris turned a 
 quick eye on him. 
 
 But the man shook his head. * Wait, 
 he said and again, slowly, "Wait."
 
 "ONCE I SAW " 135 
 
 The darkness closed around them, but 
 they did not break it. A faint question 
 ing honk sounded, and Philip Harris 
 turned. "The car is ready," he said, 
 to take you back.
 
 XIX 
 
 A WOMAN IN THE GARDEN 
 
 it comes, it may come all at 
 once," the surgeon had said, " and 
 overwhelm him. Better lead up to it 
 if we can let him recall it a bit here 
 a bit there feel his way back to the 
 old place to himself." 
 
 "Where my child is," said Philip 
 Harris. 
 
 "Where your child is," repeated the 
 surgeon, "and that clue runs through 
 the frailest, intangiblest matter that 
 fingers ever touched." He had looked 
 down at his own thin, long, firm fingers 
 as if doubting that they could have held 
 that thread for a moment and left it in 
 tact. 
 
 Philip Harris moved restively a little, 
 and came back. "There has not been a 
 word for seven weeks," he said, " not 
 a breath " 
 
 136
 
 A WOMAN IN THE GARDEN 137 
 
 "They told you ?" said the surgeon. 
 
 That they would wait three months ! 
 Yes!" Philip Harris puffed fiercely. 
 "It is hell!" he said. 
 
 "The boy is better," said the surgeon. 
 "You have only to wait a little longer 
 now. 
 
 And he had whirred away in the great 
 car to the children that needed him, 
 and Idlewood had settled, in its charmed 
 
 stillness, into the night No one 
 
 would have guessed that it was a state 
 of siege there the world passed in and 
 out of the big gates automobiles and 
 drays and foot passengers, winding their 
 way up to the low, rambling house that 
 wandered through the fiowers toward 
 the river and the wood. Windows were 
 open everywhere and voices sounded 
 through the garden. 
 
 In one of the rooms, darkened to the 
 light, the mistress of the house lay with 
 closed eyes. She could not bear the 
 light, or the sound of voices listening 
 always to hear a child s laugh among 
 them the gay little laugh that ran
 
 138 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 toward her in every room, and 
 called. 
 
 She had shut herself away, and only 
 Philip Harris came to the closed room, 
 bringing her news of the search, or sit 
 ting quietly by her in the darkness. But 
 for weeks there had been no news, no 
 clue. The search was baffled. . . . 
 They had not told her of the Greek boy 
 and the muttered words. 
 
 1 1 Better not trouble her," the physi 
 cian had urged. "She cannot bear dis 
 appointment if nothing comes of it." 
 
 And no word filtered through to the 
 dim room .... and all the clues with 
 drew in darkness. 
 
 Out in the garden Alcibiades and Miss 
 Stone worked among the flowers. It 
 was part of the cure that they should 
 work there among growing things every 
 day close to the earth and his voice 
 sounded happily as they worked. 
 
 The woman in the closed room turned 
 her head uneasily. She listened a mo 
 ment. Then she called .... Marie 
 stood in the doorway.
 
 "Who is there Marie in the gar 
 den?" 
 
 The maid stole to the window and 
 peered through the shutters. She came 
 back to the bed. "It s a boy," she said, 
 " a Greek boy and Miss Stone." 
 
 * Why is he here ? asked the woman, 
 querulously. 
 
 The maid paused discreet. She 
 knew everyone except the woman lying 
 with closed eyes knew why the boy was 
 
 here She bent and adjusted the 
 
 pillow, smoothing it. "He is someone 
 Mr. Harris sent down," she said, 
 " someone to get well. ..." 
 
 There was no reply. The woman lay 
 quiet. "I want to get up, Marie," she 
 said at last. "It is stifling here. 
 
 "Yes, Madame." 
 
 The windows were opened a little 
 the light came in slowly, and Mrs. Philip 
 Harris stepped at last into the loggia 
 that led from her windows out toward 
 the garden. Grapevines climbed the 
 posts and tendril shadows were on the 
 ground beneath. They rested on the
 
 140 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 frail figure moving under them toward 
 the light. 
 
 Marie hovered near her, with pillows 
 and a sunshade, and her face full of 
 care. 
 
 But the woman waved her back. "I 
 do not need you, Marie. Here I will 
 take the sunshade. Now, go back." 
 She moved on slowly. The voices had 
 died away. In the distance, she saw 
 Miss Stone, moving toward the wood, 
 alone. She paused for a moment, 
 watching the grey figure a little cloud 
 passed across her face. She had not 
 
 seen Miss Stone since She did 
 
 not blame her but she could not see 
 
 her She moved on slowly, the 
 
 light from the sunshade touching the 
 lines in her face and flushing them 
 softly .... Suddenly she stopped. On a 
 low couch, a little distance away, a boy 
 
 lay asleep She came up to him 
 
 softly and stood watching him. . . . 
 There was something in the flushed face, 
 in the childish, drooping lip and tossed 
 hair that reminded her. . . . Slowly she
 
 A WOMAN IN THE GARDEN 141 
 
 sank down beside him, hardly breath 
 ing. 
 
 All about them, the summer went 
 on the quiet, gentle warmth and the 
 fresh scent of blossoms. . . . The boy 
 murmured a little, and threw out an 
 arm, and slept on. The woman s eyes 
 watched the sleeping face. Something 
 mysterious was in it a look of other 
 worlds. ... It was the look of Betty 
 at night . . . when she lay asleep. . . . 
 It certainly was from some other world. 
 The woman bent forward a little. . . . 
 The dark eyes opened and looked at 
 her and smiled. The boy sat up. "I 
 sleep," he said. 
 
 He rubbed his eyes, boyishly, smiling 
 still to her. "I very sleepy," he said. 
 "I work." He rubbed his arms. "I 
 work hard." 
 
 She questioned him and moved a lit 
 tle away, and he came and sat at her 
 feet, telling her of himself with quiet 
 slowness As she questioned him he told 
 her all that he knew. . . . And they 
 chatted in the sunshine subtly drawn
 
 142 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 to each other happy in something they 
 could not have said. 
 
 The boy had grown refined by his ill 
 ness the sturdy hands that had guided 
 the push-cart had lost their roughened 
 look and seemed the shape of some old 
 statue; and the head, poised on the 
 round throat, was as if some old mu 
 seum had come to life and laughed in 
 the sun. If Mrs. Philip Harris had 
 seen Alcibiades shoving his cart before 
 him, along the cobbled street, his head 
 thrown back, his voice calling "Ban-an 
 nas!" as he went, she would not have 
 given him a thought. But here, in her 
 garden, in the white clothes that he 
 wore, and sitting at her feet, it was as 
 if the gates to another world had 
 opened to them and both looked back 
 
 together at his own life The 
 
 mystery in the boy s eyes stirred her 
 and the sound of his voice .... there 
 was something in it ... beauty, won 
 der mystery. . . . She drew a quick 
 
 breath "I think I will go in," 
 
 she said, and the boy lifted himself to
 
 A WOMAN IN THE GARDEN 143 
 
 help her and only left her, under the 
 loggia, with a quick, grateful flash of 
 the dark smile. 
 
 Mrs. Philip Harris slept that night 
 the chloral, on the little table beside her, 
 untouched. And the next day found 
 her in the garden. 
 
 All the household watched with 
 quickened hope. . . . The mistress of 
 the house had taken up her life, and the 
 old quick orders ran through the 
 
 house And no one spoke of the 
 
 child. It was as if she were asleep in 
 some distant room veiled in her cloud. 
 But the house came back to its life. Only, 
 the social groups that had filled it every 
 summer were not there. . . . But there 
 was the Greek boy, in the garden, and 
 Miss Stone, and Philip Harris whirring 
 out at night and sitting on the terrace 
 in the dusk, the light of his cigar glim 
 mering a little, as he watched the Greek 
 boy flung on the ground at his feet, his 
 eyes playing with the stars. He knew 
 them all by name under the skies of 
 Greece. Achilles had taught them to
 
 144 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 him; and he counted them, like a flock, 
 as he lay on the terrace rolling out the 
 great Greek names while they girdled 
 the sky above him in a kind of homely 
 chant. 
 
 When the boy had gone to bed Philip 
 Harris remained smoking thoughtfully 
 and looking still at the stars. He had 
 had a long talk with the surgeon to-day 
 and he had given his consent. The boy 
 was well, he admitted as well as he was 
 likely to be perhaps. Give him three 
 more days then, if nothing happened, 
 they might question him. 
 
 Philip Harris threw away his cigar 
 and its glimmering light went out in 
 the grass. Overhead the great stars 
 still circled in space, travelling on to 
 ward the new day.
 
 XX 
 
 THE TEST IS MADE 
 
 i t 
 
 I WILL ask the questions," Achilles 
 had said, in his quiet voice, and it had 
 been arranged that he should come to 
 Idlewood when the surgeon gave the 
 word. 
 
 He arrived the next night, stepping 
 from the car as it drew up before the 
 door, and Alcibiades, standing among 
 the flowers talking with Miss Stone, saw 
 him and started and came forward 
 
 swiftly He had not known that 
 
 his father was coming he ran a little as 
 he came nearer and threw himself in his 
 arms, laughing out. 
 
 Achilles smiled a dark, wistful 
 smile. "You are grown strong," he 
 said. He held him off to look at 
 him. 
 
 The boy s teeth gleamed a white 
 line, "To-morrow we go home?" he re- 
 
 145
 
 146 Mfc. ACHILLES 
 
 plied. "I am all well father well 
 now ! 
 
 But Achilles shook his head. "To 
 morrow we stay," he replied. "I stay 
 one day two days three " He 
 looked at the boy narrowly "Then we 
 go home." 
 
 The boy smiled contentedly and they 
 moved away. Early the next morning 
 he was up before Achilles, calling to him 
 from the garden to hurry and see the 
 flowers before the mist was off them, 
 and showing him, with eager teeth, his 
 own radishes ready to pull and little 
 lines of green lettuce that sprang above 
 the earth. "I plant," said the boy 
 proudly. "I make grow." He swung 
 his arm over the whole garden. 
 
 Achilles watched him with gentle face, 
 following him from bed to bed and 
 stooping to the plants with courteous 
 
 gesture It was all like home. 
 
 They had never been in a garden be 
 fore in this new land .... the melons 
 and berries and plums and peaches and 
 pears that came crated into the little
 
 THE TEST Is MADE 147 
 
 fruit-shop had grown in unknown fields 
 but here they stretched in the sun; and 
 the two Greeks moved toward them 
 with laughing, gentle words and quick 
 gestures that flitted and stopped, and 
 went on, and gathered in the day. The 
 new world was gathering its sky about 
 them; and their faces turned to meet 
 
 it And with every gesture of the 
 
 boy, Achilles s eyes were on him, study 
 ing his face, its quick colour running be 
 neath the tan, and the clear light of his 
 eyes. Indoors or out, he was testing 
 him; and with every gesture his heart 
 sang. His boy was well . . . and he 
 held a key that should open the dark 
 door that baffled them all. . . . When 
 he spoke, that door would open for 
 them a little way, perhaps only a lit 
 tle way but the rest would be clear. 
 And soon the boy would speak. 
 
 In the house Philip Harris waited; 
 and with him the chief of police, detec 
 tives and plain-clothes men summoned 
 hastily waited what should develop. 
 They watched the boy and his father,
 
 148 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 from a distance, and speculated and 
 made guesses on what he would know; 
 for weeks they had been waiting on a 
 sick boy s whim held back by the doc 
 tor s orders. They watched him mov 
 ing across the garden his quick, sup 
 ple gestures, his live face the boy was 
 well enough! They smoked innumer 
 able cigars and strolled out through the 
 grounds and sat by the river, and threw 
 stones into its sluggish current, waiting 
 while hours went by. . . . Since the ulti 
 matum a hundred thousand for three 
 months not a line had reached them, 
 no message over the whispering wires 
 the child might be in the city, hidden 
 in some safe corner; she might be in 
 Europe, or in Timbuctoo. There had 
 been time enough to smuggle her away. 
 Every port had been watched, but there 
 was the Canadian line stretching to the 
 north, and the men who were "on the 
 deal" would stop at nothing. . . . They 
 had been approached, tentatively, in the 
 beginning, for a share of profits; but 
 they had scorned the overture. i Catch 
 me if you can ! the voice laughed and
 
 THE TEST Is MADE 149 
 
 rang off. The police were hot against 
 them. . . . Just one clue the merest 
 clue and they would run it to earth 
 like bloodhounds. They chewed the 
 ends of their cigars and waited . . . 
 and in the garden the boy and his father 
 watched the clouds go by and talked of 
 Athens and gods and temples and sunny 
 streets. Back through the past, care 
 free they went and at every turn the 
 boy s memory rang true. . . . "Do you 
 remember, Alcie the little house below 
 the Temple of the Winds" Achil 
 les s eyes were on his face and the 
 boy s face laughed "Yes father. 
 That house " quick running words that 
 tripped themselves "where I stole 
 figs three little figs. . . . You whipped 
 me then!" The boy laughed and 
 turned on his side and watched the 
 clouds and the talk ran on ... coming 
 closer at last, across the great Sea, 
 through New York and the long hurry 
 ing train, into the grimy city on the 
 shore of the lake the boy s eyes grew 
 wistful. ... "I go home with you 
 father ?" he said. It was a quick
 
 150 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 question and his eyes flashed from the 
 garden to his father s face. 
 
 "Do you want to go home, Alcie?" 
 The face smiled at him. "Don t you 
 like it here?" A gesture touched the 
 garden. 
 
 "I like yes. I go home with you," 
 he said simply. 
 
 "You must stay till you are strong," 
 said the father, watching him. "You 
 were hurt, you know. It takes time to 
 get strong. . . . You remember that you 
 were hurt. . . .?" 
 
 The words dropped slowly, one by one, 
 and the day drowsed. The sun warm 
 as Athens shone down, waiting while 
 the boy turned slowly on his side . . . 
 his eyes had grown dark. ... "I 
 try remember. ..." His voice was 
 half a whisper, " but it runs away!" 
 The eyes seemed to be straining to see 
 something beyond them through a veil. 
 
 Achilles s hand passed before them 
 .and shut them off. . . . "Don t try, Al- 
 cie. Never mind it s all right. Don t 
 mind !
 
 THE TEST Is MADE 151 
 
 But the boy had thrown himself for 
 ward with a long cry, sobbing. . . . 
 "I want to see," he said, "It 
 hurts here." His fingers touched the 
 faint line along his forehead. And 
 Achilles bent and kissed it, and soothed 
 him, talking low words till the boy sat 
 up, a little laugh on his lips his grief 
 forgotten. 
 
 So the detectives went back to the city 
 each with his expensive cigar curs 
 ing luck. And Achilles, after a day or 
 two, followed them. "He will be better 
 without you," said the surgeon. "You 
 disturb his mind. Let him have time to 
 get quiet again. Give nature her 
 chance." 
 
 So Achilles returned to the city, un 
 locking the boy s fingers from his. 
 "You must wait a little while," he said 
 gently. "Then I come for you." And 
 he left the boy in the garden, looking 
 after the great machine that bore him 
 away an unfathomable look in his 
 dark, following eyes.
 
 XXI 
 
 A CONNOISSEUR SPEAKS 
 
 THE next day it rained. All day the 
 rain dripped on the roof and ran down 
 the waterspouts, hurrying to the ground. 
 In her own room the mistress of the 
 house sat watching the rain and the 
 
 heavy sky and drenched earth 
 
 The child was never for a minute out of 
 her thoughts . . . her fancy pictured grue 
 some places, foul dens where the child 
 
 sat pale and worn and listless 
 
 Did they tie her hands? Would 
 they let her run about a little and 
 play? But she could not play a child 
 could not play in all the strangeness 
 
 and sordidness The mother had 
 
 watched the dripping rain too long. . . . 
 It seemed to be falling on coffins. 
 She crept back to the fire and held out 
 her hands to a feeble blaze that flick 
 ered up, and died out. . . . Why did not 
 
 152
 
 A CONNOISSEUR SPEAKS 153 
 
 Marie come back ? It was three o clock- 
 where was Marie? She looked about 
 her and held out her hands to the blaze 
 and shivered there was fire in her veins, 
 and beside her on the hearth the child 
 seemed to crouch and shiver and reach 
 
 out thin hands to the warmth 
 
 Phil had said they would not hurt 
 her! . . . But what could a man 
 know? He did not know the sensitive 
 child-nature that trembled at a word. . . 
 And she was with rough men hideous 
 women longing to come home won 
 dering why they did not come for her 
 and take her away .... dear child! .... 
 How cruel Phil was ! She crouched 
 nearer the fire, her eyes devouring it 
 her thoughts crowding on the dark 
 ness .... Those terrible men had been 
 silent seven weeks more than seven- 
 desperate weeks .... not a word out 
 of the darkness and she could not cry 
 out to them perhaps they would not 
 tap the wires again ! The thought 
 confronted her and she sprang up and 
 walked wildly, her pulses beating in her
 
 154 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 temples She stopped by a table 
 
 and looked down. A little vial lay 
 there, and the medicine dropper and 
 wine glass waiting. She turned her 
 head uneasily and moved away. She 
 must save it for the night for the dark 
 hours that never passed. . . . But she 
 must think of something! She glanced 
 about her, and rang the bell sharply, and 
 waited. 
 
 "I want the Greek boy," she said, 
 send him to me!" 
 
 "Yes, madame." Marie s voice hur 
 ried itself away . . . and Alcibiades 
 stood in the door, looking in. 
 
 The woman turned to him a little 
 comfort shining in the sleepless eyes, 
 "Come in," she said, "I want to talk 
 to you tell me about Athens the sun 
 shines there!" She glanced again at 
 the hearth and shivered. 
 
 The boy came in, flashing a gleam 
 through the dark day. The little sad 
 ness of the night before had gone. He 
 was alive and lithe and happy. He 
 came over to her, smiling and
 
 A CONNOISSEUR SPEAKS 155 
 
 she looked at him curiously "What 
 have you been doing all day?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I play "* said Alcibiades, "I play- 
 on flute His fingers made little 
 music gestures at his lips, and fell away, 
 And I run he said, " I go in rain 
 and run and come in." He shook 
 Ms dark head. Little gleams of mois 
 ture shone from it. The earth seemed 
 to breathe about him. 
 
 She drew a quick breath. "You shall 
 tell me," she said, "but not here 
 She glanced about the room filled with 
 sickness and wild thoughts not even 
 the boy s presence dispelled them. 
 "We will go away somewhere to the 
 gallery," she said quickly, "it is lighter 
 there. . . . and I have not been there 
 for weeks." Her voice dropped a little. 
 
 The boy followed her through the hall, 
 across a covered way, to the gallery 
 that held the gems and the refuse- 
 that Philip Harris had gathered up 
 from the world. She looked about her 
 with a proud, imperious gesture. She
 
 156 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 knew better now than when the pic 
 tures were purchased which ones were 
 good, and which were very bad ; but she 
 could not interfere with the gallery. It 
 was Philip s own place in the house. It 
 had been his fancy to buy pictures 
 when the money came pouring in faster 
 than they could spend it and the gal 
 lery was his own private venture his 
 gymnasium in culture! She smiled a 
 little. Over there, a great canvas had 
 been taken down and carted off to make 
 room for the little Monticelli in its place. 
 He was learning yes! But she could 
 not bring guests to the gallery when 
 they came to Idlewood for the day. . . . 
 If he would only let a connoisseur go 
 through the place and pick out the best 
 ones the gallery was not so bad! She 
 looked about her with curious, tolerant 
 smile. 
 
 The boy s gaze followed hers. He 
 had not been in this big room, with the 
 high-reaching skylight, and the vari 
 coloured pictures and grey walls. His 
 dark eyes went everywhere and flashed
 
 A CONNOISSEUR SPEAKS 157 
 
 smiles and brought a touch-stone to the 
 place. Eyes trained to the Acropolis 
 were on the pictures; and the temples 
 of the gods spoke in swift words or 
 laughed out in quick surprise. 
 
 The mistress of the house followed 
 him, with amused step. If Phil could 
 only hear it ! She must manage some 
 how Phil was too shrewd and practical 
 not to see how true the boy was and 
 how keen ! That great Thing over the 
 fireplace Chicago on her throne, with 
 the nations prostrate before her how 
 the boy wondered and chuckled and 
 questioned her and brought the colour 
 to her face ! . . . Philip had stood be 
 fore the picture by the hour entranced ; 
 the man who painted it had made a key 
 to go with it, and Philip Harris knew 
 the meaning of every line and figure 
 and he gloried and wallowed in it. 
 "That is a picture with some sense in 
 it!" was his proudest word, standing 
 before it and waving his hand at the 
 vision on her throne. She was a lovely 
 lady a little like his wife, Philip Har-
 
 158 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 ris thought. Perhaps the artist had not 
 been unaware of this. Certainly Mrs. 
 Philip Harris knew it, and loathed the 
 Thing. The boy s words were like mu 
 sic to her soul, under the skylight with 
 the rain dripping softly down. . . . She 
 had thought of covering the thing up 
 a velvet curtain, perhaps. But she 
 
 had not quite dared yet Across the 
 
 room another picture was covered by a 
 curtain the velvet folds sweeping 
 straight in front of it, and covering it 
 from top to bottom. Only the rim of 
 the gilt frame that reached to the ceil 
 ing, glimmered about the blue folds 
 
 of the curtain The boy s eyes 
 
 had rested on the curtained picture as 
 they passed before it, but Mrs. Philip 
 Harris had not turned her head. 
 She felt the boy s eyes now they 
 had wandered to it again, and he stood 
 with half-parted lips, as if something 
 behind the curtain called to him. She 
 touched him subtly and drew his atten 
 tion and he followed her a minute .... 
 then his attention wandered and he
 
 " It is Betty my little girl "
 
 A CONNOISSEUR SPEAKS 159 
 
 gazed at the deep folds in the curtain 
 with troubled eyes. She hesitated a mo 
 ment and her hand trembled. It was 
 as if the curtain were calling her, too, 
 and she moved toward it, the boy beside 
 
 her They did not speak they 
 
 moved blindly and paused a breath .... 
 the rain falling on the skylight. The 
 boy flashed a smile to her. ... "I have 
 not seen it," he said. 
 
 She reached out her hand then and 
 drew back the curtain. "It is Betty 
 my little girl she said, "she has 
 gone away She was talking aim 
 lessly to steady her hands. But the 
 boy did not hear her he had stumbled 
 a little and his eyes were on the pic 
 ture searching the roguish smile, the 
 wide eyes, the straight, true little figure 
 that seemed stepping toward them 
 
 out from behind her curtain 
 
 The mother s eyes feasted on it a 
 moment hungrily and she turned to the 
 hoy. But he did not see his gaze was 
 on the picture and he took a step 
 and looked and drew his hand across
 
 160 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 his eyes with a little breath. Then he 
 reached out his hands, " I see her," 
 he said swiftly. "She look at me on 
 ground she cry " His face worked 
 a minute then it grew quiet and he 
 turned it toward her. "I see her," he 
 repeated slowly. 
 
 She had seized his shoulder and was 
 questioning him, forcing him toward the 
 picture, calling the words into his ear 
 as if he were deaf, or far away and the 
 boy responded slowly truly, each word 
 lighting up the scene for her the great 
 car crashing upon him, the overthrow of 
 his cart, the scattered fruit on the 
 ground, and the Greek boy crawling to 
 ward it thrust forward as the car 
 pushed by and his swift, upward 
 glance of the girl s face as it flashed 
 past, and of the men holding her be 
 tween them "She cry," he said as if 
 he saw the vision again before him, 
 "She cry and they stop hands." He 
 placed both hands across his mouth, 
 shutting out words and cry. 
 
 And the mother fondled him and cried
 
 A CONNOISSEUR SPEAKS 161 
 
 to him and questioned him again. She 
 had no fear no knowledge of what 
 might hang in the balance of the deli 
 cate grey matter that trembled at her 
 strokes ... no surgeon would have 
 dared question so sternly, so unspar 
 ingly. But the delicate brain held it 
 self steady and the boy s eyes were 
 turned to her piecing her broken 
 words, answering them before they 
 came as if she drew them forth at 
 will- 
 
 The door opened and she looked up 
 and sprang forward. . . . " Listen, Phil. 
 He saw Betty!" Her hand trembled to 
 the boy. "He saw her that last day 
 it must be tell him, Alcie 
 
 The boy was looking at him smiling 
 quietly, and nodding to him. 
 
 Philip Harris closed the door with set 
 face.
 
 xxn 
 
 "WHAT DID YOU SEE? * 
 
 did you see boy?" Philip 
 Harris stood with his legs well apart, 
 looking at him. 
 
 The boy answered quietly, his quick 
 gesture running to the picture above 
 them, and filling out his words. . . . He 
 had gathered the story of the child as 
 the mother had gathered his and his 
 voice trembled a little, but it did not 
 falter in the broken words. 
 
 Philip Harris drew a deep breath. 
 " Would you know these men?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I know them yes." The clear eyes 
 were on his face. 
 
 Philip Harris glanced up. The rain 
 on the skylight had ceased, but the room 
 was full of dusk. . . . "There is not 
 time," he said, "to-night You must 
 rest now, and have your dinner and go 
 
 162
 
 "WHAT DID You SEE?" 163 
 
 to bed. . . . To-morroAv there will be 
 men to question you. You must tell 
 them what you have told us." 
 
 "I tell them," said the boy simply, 
 "what I see." 
 
 So the boy slept quietly .... and 
 through the night, messages ran beneath 
 the ground, they leaped out and struck 
 wires and laughed . . . Men bent 
 their heads to listen .... and spoke 
 softly and hurried. Cars thrust them 
 selves forth, striking at the miles their 
 great bulk sliding on. The world was 
 awake gathering itself . . . toward the 
 boy. 
 
 In the morning they questioned him 
 they set down his answers with quick, 
 sharp jerks that asked for more. And 
 the boy repeated faithfully all that he 
 had told; and the surgeon sitting be 
 side him watched with keen eyes and 
 smiled. . . . The boy would hold. He was 
 sound. But they must be careful . . . 
 and after a little he sent him into 
 the garden to work while the men com 
 pared notes and sent despatches and the
 
 164 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 story travelled into the world, tallying 
 itself against the face of every rogue. 
 But there were no faces that matched 
 it no faces such as the boy had cher 
 ished with minute care .... as if the 
 features had been stamped one flash 
 ing stroke upon his brain, and disap 
 peared. There could be no doubt of 
 them the description of the child was 
 perfect red cherries, grey coat and 
 floating curls. . . . He seemed to see the 
 face before him as he talked and the 
 face of the big man at her left, with red 
 moustache and sharp chin and the 
 smaller man beside her, who had clapped 
 his hand across her mouth and glared 
 at the boy on the ground his eyes were 
 black yes, and he wore a cap pulled 
 down, and collar up you only saw the 
 eyes black as. ... The boy had looked 
 about him a minute, and pointed to the 
 shoes of the chief of police gleaming in 
 the sunlight patent leathers, and dress 
 suit, hurried away from a political ban 
 quet the night before. The men smiled
 
 "WHAT DID You SEE? 165 
 
 and the pencils raced. . . . There had 
 been another man who drove the ma 
 chine, but the boy had not noticed him 
 his swift glance had taken in only the 
 child, it seemed, and the faces that 
 framed her. 
 
 A little later they drove into the city 
 the boy accompanying them, and the 
 surgeon and Achilles, who had hurried 
 out with the first news and had listened 
 to his son s story with dark, silent eyes. 
 He sat in the car close to Alcibiades, 
 one hand on the back of the seat, the 
 other on the boy s hand. Through the 
 long miles they did not speak. The boy 
 seemed resting in his father s strength. 
 It was only when they reached the scene 
 of his disaster that he roused himself 
 and pointed with quick finger to the 
 
 place where he had fallen He 
 
 was pushing his cart so and he looked 
 up quick and his cart went so! 
 and all his fruit, and he was down look 
 ing up and the car went by, close. . . . 
 Which way? He could not tell
 
 166 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 that no. . . . He shut his eyes his 
 face grew pale. . . . He could not 
 
 tell 
 
 The street forked here it might 
 have been either way by swerving a 
 little. . . . And the police looked wise 
 and took notes and reporters photo 
 graphed the spot and before night a 
 crowd had gathered about it, peering 
 hopefully at the pavement where Alci- 
 biades had lain, and pointing with eager 
 fingers to bits of peel orange and 
 banana scattered by the last passer-by, 
 and gazing at dark stains on the pave 
 ment something that might be marks 
 of blood after ten weeks of rain and 
 mud and dust! 
 
 Achilles and the boy returned to the 
 shop. "I want to go home," the boy 
 had said, as the car turned away, "I 
 go home with you, father." So they 
 had drawn up at the little fruit shop; 
 and Yaxis in the door, his teeth gleam 
 ing, had darted out to meet them, hov 
 ering about them and helping his
 
 "WHAT DID You SEE?" 167 
 
 brother up the stairs and out to the ve 
 randah that ran across the windows at 
 the rear. Down below, in tin-can back 
 yards of the neighbours, old bottles and 
 piles of broken lumber filled the place; 
 but along the edge of the verandah, 
 boxes of earth had been set, and vines 
 ran to the top, shutting out the glare of 
 the brick walls opposite and making a 
 cool spot in the blank heat. 
 
 Alcibiades looked at the vines with 
 happy eyes. "They grow," he said 
 softly. 
 
 Yaxis nodded and produced a pot of 
 forget-me-nots. He had been tending 
 them for three weeks for Alcie. They 
 bent over the pot, blue with blossoms, 
 talking eager words and little gestures 
 and quick laughs. . . . And Achilles, 
 coming out, smiled at the two heads 
 bending above the plant. Yaxis had 
 been lonely but now the little laughs 
 seemed to stir softly in the close rooms 
 and wake something happy there.
 
 xxin 
 
 ACHILLES HAS A PLAN 
 
 THE next day, life in the little shop went 
 on as if there had been no break. With 
 the early light, Yaxis was off, to the 
 south, pushing his tip-cart before him 
 and calling aloud bananas and fruit 
 and the joy of Alcibiades s return, in 
 his clear, high voice. ... In the shop, 
 Achilles arranged the fruit great piles 
 of oranges, and grape fruit and figs 
 and swung the heavy bunches of ba 
 nanas to their hooks outside, and opened 
 crates and boxes and made ready for the 
 day. By and by, when trade slackened 
 a little, he would slip away and leave 
 Alcibiades in charge of the shop. . . . 
 His mind was busy as he worked. 
 He had something to do that would take 
 him away from the shop every day for 
 a while, it might be but the shop would 
 not suffer. Alcibiades was strong not 
 
 168
 
 ACHILLES HAS A PLAN 169 
 
 well enough, perhaps, to go out with the 
 new push-cart that had replaced the old 
 one, and waited outside, but strong 
 enough to make change and fill up the 
 holes in the piles of oranges as they 
 diminished under the swift rush of 
 trade. 
 
 Achilles s eyes rested on him fondly. 
 It had been lonely in the shop but now 
 the long days of waiting were re 
 paid .... they had their clue. Even 
 now the detectives might have followed 
 it up .... The little lady would be 
 found .... He hurried over the last 
 things his heart singing and called 
 the boy to him. 
 
 "I go away," he said, looking at him 
 kindly. "You stay in shop till I 
 come." 
 
 "Yes, father." The boy s eyes were 
 happy. It was good to be in the close, 
 dark, home place with its fruity smell 
 and the striped awning outside. "I do 
 all right!" he said gaily. 
 
 The father nodded. "To-morrow you 
 go with push-cart little way every
 
 170 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 day little way " he waited a moment 
 while the boy s face took in the words- 
 he spoke with slow significance 
 "Some day you see those men then 
 you run like devil!" he said quickly, 
 "you tell me!" 
 
 The boy s teeth made a quick line of 
 light and his face flashed. "I tell 
 quick!" he said, "I know those 
 men ! 
 
 The father nodded. "Not to-day. 
 You not strong enough to-day. To 
 morrow you go you watch always 
 those men." 
 
 He left the shop and was lost in the 
 crowd. He was going first to the city 
 hall for news then he would seek 
 Philip Harris. The plan that he was 
 shaping in his mind needed help. 
 
 But at the city hall there was no news. 
 The chief of police seemed even a little 
 irritated at the sight of the dark face 
 and the slim, straight figure that stood 
 before him. He eyed it a moment, al~ 
 most hostilely; then he remembered 
 Philip Harris s commands and told the
 
 ACHILLES HAS A PLAN 171 
 
 man what steps had been taken and the 
 reports that had come in thus far 
 through the day. The Greek listened 
 without comment, his dark face smoul 
 dering a little over its quick fire. 
 "You find nothing?" he said quietly. 
 
 "Not a damn thing!" answered the 
 chief. 
 
 "I go try," said Achilles. 
 
 The man looked at him. Then he 
 laughed out. The door opened. It was 
 the detective in charge of the case. He 
 glanced at Achilles and went over to the 
 chief and said something. But the chief 
 shook his head and they looked care 
 lessly at Achilles, while the chief 
 drummed on the desk. Achilles waited 
 with slow, respectful gaze. 
 
 The detective came across to him. 
 "No news," he said. 
 
 Achilles s face held its steady light. 
 "I think we find her," he said. 
 
 The inspector did not laugh. He 
 studied the man s face slowly, whistling 
 a little between his teeth. "What s 
 your plan?" he said.
 
 172 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Achilles shook his head. " When I 
 see those men I go follow." 
 
 The detective smiled a little line of 
 smile . . . that did not scorn him. 
 "When you see them yes!" he said 
 softly. 
 
 The chief of police, listening with 
 half an ear, laughed out. "Catch your 
 hare, Alexander!" He said it with su 
 perior ease. 
 
 Achilles looked at him. "I catch 
 hair?" he asked with polite interest. 
 
 The chief nodded. "You catch 
 your hare before you cook it, you 
 know. 
 
 Achilles ran a slim, thoughtful hand 
 along his dark locks and shook them 
 slowly. . . The conversation had 
 passed beyond him. 
 
 The detective smiled a little. "Never 
 mind him, Alexander. Anything that 
 you find you bring to me right off." 
 He clinked a little money in his pocket 
 and looked at him. 
 
 But Achilles s gaze had no returning 
 gleam. "When I find her," he said, "I
 
 ACHILLES HAS A PLAN 173 
 
 tell you I tell everybody." His face 
 had lightened now. 
 
 The detective laughed. "All right, 
 Alexander! You re game, all right!" 
 
 Achilles looked at him with puzzled 
 eyes. "I go now," he said. He moved 
 away with the smooth, unhurried 
 rhythm that bore him swiftly along. 
 
 The eyes of the two men followed him. 
 " You re welcome to him!" said the 
 chief carelessly. 
 
 I don t feel so sure, said the other 
 "He may do it yet right under our 
 noses. . . . I ve done it myself you 
 know. 
 
 The chief looked at him curiously. 
 
 "I used to do it time and again," 
 said the man, thoughtfully. "I couldn t 
 a told you how. I d study on a case 
 and study and give it up and then, all 
 of a sudden pop! and there it was 
 in my head. I couldn t have told how 
 it got there, but it worked all right!" 
 He lighted a cigar and threw the match 
 from him, puffing slowly. "I d do it 
 now if I could". , He was lost in
 
 174 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 thought. . . . "There s something in 
 his eyes that Greek. . . I d like to be 
 inside that black skull of his a minute. 
 He sauntered across the room and went 
 out. 
 
 The eyes of the chief of police looked 
 after him vaguely. He drew a column 
 of figures toward him and began to add 
 it starting at the bottom and travel 
 ling slowly up. He was computing his 
 revenues for the coming year.
 
 XXIV 
 
 IT FLOATS A LITTLE 
 
 ACHILLES found Philip Harris at lunch 
 eon, and waited for him to come back, 
 and laid his plan before him. 
 
 The millionaire listened, and nodded 
 once or twice, and took up the receiver 
 and gave an order. "He ll be at your 
 place every day," he said to Achilles as 
 he hung it up. "You tell him what you 
 want and let me know if there s any 
 thing else money ?" He looked at 
 him. 
 
 But Achilles shook his head. "I 
 got money," he said quickly. "I get 
 money six-seven dollar every day. I 
 do good business!" 
 
 The millionaire smiled, a little bit 
 terly. "I do good business, too; but it 
 doesn t seem to count much. Well let 
 me know " He held out his hand and 
 Achilles took it and hesitated and looked 
 
 175
 
 176 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 at the seamed red face that waited for 
 him to go then he went quietly out. 
 
 He would have liked to speak swift 
 words of hope they rode high in his 
 heart but something in the face put 
 him off and he went out into the sun 
 shine and walked fast. He looked far 
 ahead as he went, smiling softly at his 
 dream. And now and then a man 
 passed him and looked back and smiled 
 too a shrewd, tolerant, grown-up 
 smile. 
 
 At ten o clock the next morning 
 Philip Harris s big touring car drew up 
 in front of the striped awning; it gave 
 a little plaintive honk and stood still. 
 Achilles came to the door with swift 
 look. He turned back to the shop. "I 
 ;go," he said to Alcibiades, and stepped 
 across the pavement, and was off. 
 
 At two o clock he returned to the 
 shop, his face covered with big beads of 
 perspiration, his hat gone and his eyes 
 shining and, without a word, he went 
 about the shop with his wonted air of
 
 IT FLOATS A LITTLE 177 
 
 swift-moving silence. But the next day 
 he was off again, and the next ; and Al- 
 cibiades grew accustomed to the long 
 car slipping up and the straight, slim 
 figure sliding into it and taking its place 
 and disappearing down the street. 
 
 Where Achilles went on these excur 
 sions, or what he did, no one knew. 
 Promptly at two each day he returned 
 always dishevelled and alert, but wear 
 ing a look of triumph that sat strangely 
 on the quiet Greek reserve. It could 
 not be said that Achilles strutted as he 
 walked, but he had an air of confidence, 
 as if he were seeing things things far 
 ahead that were coming to him on the 
 long road. 
 
 The boys could not make him out .... 
 and their loyalty would not let them 
 question him. But one day Yaxis, 
 resting on the parapet that overlooked 
 the lake, his cart drawn a little to one 
 side, his hat off and his face taking in 
 
 the breeze, saw a strange sight 
 
 It was a wide roadway, and free of traf 
 fic, and Yaxis had turned his head and
 
 178 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 looked up and down its length. In the 
 distance a car was coming it was not 
 speeding. It seemed coming on with lit 
 tle foolish movements halting jerks 
 and impatient honks. . . . Yaxis s eye 
 rested on it bewildered then it broke 
 to a smile. Father was driving! . . . 
 The chauffeur, beside him, with folded 
 arms and set face had washed his hands 
 of all responsibility and the face of 
 
 the Greek was shining The great 
 
 machine swerved and balked and ran a 
 little way and stopped Yaxis laughed 
 softly. The chauffeur bent over with a 
 word, and the thing shot off, Achilles 
 with intent back, holding fast by both 
 hands, his face set and shining ahead. 
 Up and down the roadway, the thing 
 zigzagged back and forth spitting a 
 little and fizzing behind. . . . Like a 
 great beast it snarled and snorted and 
 stood out and waited the lash and 
 came to terms, gliding at last, by a 
 touch along the smooth road the face 
 of Achilles transfigured in a dream. . . . 
 The Acropolis floated behind him in the
 
 IT FLOATS A LITTLE 179 
 
 haze. . . . The wings of the morning 
 waited his coming and his hands gripped 
 
 hard on the wheel of the world 
 
 Yaxis watched the car as it flashed 
 and floated in the sun and was 
 gone down the roadway around the 
 distant corner out of sight, with its 
 faint triumphant honk-honk-honk ! 
 trailing behind. 
 
 With a deep smile on his face Yaxis 
 wheeled his cart into the roadway and 
 pushed briskly toward home, his mind 
 filled with the vision of his father and 
 the flying car. 
 
 The next day coming down the steps 
 of a house and counting slow change, 
 he looked up with a swift glance some 
 thing had passed him; for a moment he 
 had only a glimpse something famil 
 iar a kind of home sense then the fig 
 ure of Achilles flashed out the car shot 
 round a corner. He sped to the corner 
 and looked down the long road no 
 one only two rows of poplars with 
 their silvery, stirring leaves, and not a 
 soul in sight and respectable houses on
 
 180 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 either side watching, as if nothing had 
 happened, or ever would. Yaxis re 
 turned to his cart, wiping the fine mois 
 ture from his forehead. Every day 
 now, his glance travelled about him as 
 he pushed his cart along the quieter 
 streets where his route lay. And often 
 at the end of long vistas, or down a side 
 street, he caught a glimpse of the shoot 
 ing car and the dark, erect figure poised 
 forward on its seat, looking far ahead. 
 
 At home, in the dusky interior, Achil 
 les moved with sedate step, his hair 
 combed, his slim hands busy with the 
 smooth fruit. . . . Yaxis, in the door 
 way, looked at him with curious, wist 
 ful eyes. 
 
 Achilles glanced up and nodded, and 
 the little smile on his dark face grew. 
 He came forward. "You had good 
 day?" he said. 
 
 "Yes, father. . . ." The boy hesi 
 tated a moment, and dug his toes 
 and flung out his hands in quick ges 
 ture .... "I see you!" he said "You 
 go in massheen !
 
 IT FLOATS A LITTLE 181 
 
 Achilles s glance flashed and grew to 
 a deep, still smile. . . . "You see that 
 machine! You see me drive him? / 
 make that machine go ! " His chest ex 
 panded and he moved a few free steps 
 and paused 
 
 The boy s eyes rested on him proudly. 
 Around them out in the grimy street 
 the world hurried and scuffled and 
 honked; and in the little back shop the 
 father and the boy faced each other, a 
 strange, new, proud joy around them 
 "I drive that machine," said Achilles 
 softly.
 
 XXV 
 
 AND STARTS OFF 
 
 ACHILLES came to the door of the shop 
 and looked out. A car had drawn up to 
 the sidewalk a rough, racing machine 
 with open sides and big wheels and the 
 driver, a big man in a white cap and 
 rough linen suit, was beckoning to him 
 with his hand. Achilles stepped across 
 the walk, and stood by the machine with 
 quiet, waiting face. 
 
 The man looked him over, a little as if 
 he owned him "I want some fruit," he 
 said quickly, " oranges grapes any 
 thing f" His glance ran to the fruit 
 on the stall "Get me something 
 quick and don t be all day " His 
 hand was fumbling for change. 
 
 "I get you best orange," said Achil 
 les. He snapped open a paper bag and 
 turned to the heaped-up fruit. . . . 
 
 188
 
 AND STARTS OFF 183 
 
 Then his eye paused a boy was break 
 ing through the crowd hatless ; breath 
 less and calling him with swift ges 
 ture. 
 
 Achilles sprang forward. "What is 
 it, Alcie?" His eye was searching the 
 crowd, and his hand dropped to the boy s 
 shoulder. 
 
 "There they are!" gasped the boy, 
 "There!" 
 
 Achilles s eye gleamed down the 
 street, a little way off, a car was wheel 
 ing out from the curb gathering head. 
 
 Achilles s eyes flashed on it .... and 
 swept the crowd and came back .... 
 
 The man in the white cap by the curb 
 was swearing softly. He leaped with 
 two steps, from the panting car to the 
 stall and began gathering up oranges. 
 "Here he said. Then he wheeled 
 and saw the Greek fruit-dealer flashing 
 off in a car his car. "Here you!" 
 he shouted. 
 
 But Achilles gave no heed and 
 the boy, urging him on from be 
 hind, turned with swift smile "He
 
 184 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 take your car " lie said, "he need that 
 car!" 
 
 But the white-capped man pounced 
 upon him, and shook him by the shoul 
 der watching his car that was thread 
 ing fast in the crowded traffic He 
 
 dropped the boy, and his hand reached 
 up, signalling wildly for police a city 
 service car sprang from the ground, it 
 seemed. The white-capped man leaped 
 in and they were off honking the 
 
 crowd heavy drays moved from 
 
 before them with slow, eternal wheel 
 the white cap swore softly and leaned 
 
 forward and urged and the dark, 
 
 Greek head bobbed far ahead along in 
 the crowd the big, grey racer gather 
 ing speed beneath. . . . Achilles was not 
 thinking of the pursuit, yelling behind 
 him he had no thoughts only two eyes 
 that held a car far in the distance, and 
 two hands that gripped the wheel and 
 drove hard, and prayed grimly. ... If 
 his eye lost that car. . . . ! It was 
 turning now far ahead .... and 
 his eye marked the place and held
 
 AND STARTS OFF 185 
 
 it fixed His car jolted and 
 
 bumped . . . Men swore and made way 
 before Mm, and noted the hatless head, 
 and looked behind and saw the police 
 car and yelled aloud. But no one saw 
 him in time, and he was not stopped. He 
 had reached the corner where the car 
 disappeared from sight, and he leaned 
 forward, with careful turn, peering 
 around the corner. . . . ? They were 
 there yes. . . . He drove faster and 
 the great, ugly car lifted itself and flung 
 forward and settled to long sliding 
 
 gait The car ahead turned 
 
 again in the whirling traffic and turned 
 again .... But Achilles s eye did not 
 
 lose its track and they were out 
 
 in the open at last the plain stretching 
 before them no turn to left or right 
 and the machine Achilles drove had no 
 equal in the country. . . . But Achilles 
 did not know his machine. . . . Good or 
 bad, it must serve him and keep his men 
 in sight but not too near not to 
 
 frighten them! They had turned 
 
 now and were glancing back and they
 
 186 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 spoke quickly Then they looked again 
 at the flying hair and hatless head 
 and saw suddenly, on behind it, the serv 
 ice car leap softly around the corner 
 into the white road. . . . They looked 
 again and laughed. They turned and 
 dropped the matter "Some damn 
 fool with a stolen car."
 
 XXVI 
 
 AND EACES FOR THE CLUE 
 
 UNDER the great bowl of sky, in the 
 midst of the plain, the three cars held 
 their level way three little racing dots 
 in the big, clear place. . . . They kept 
 an even course, swaying to the race on 
 level wings that swept the ground and 
 rose to the low swale and passed be 
 yond. Only the long free line of dust 
 marked their flight under the sun. 
 
 The men at the front, in the car ahead, 
 did not look back again. . . . They had 
 lost interest in the race pressing be 
 hind most anxiously, they had lost in 
 terest in it. They wished, with a fer 
 vent wish, that the two cars driving be 
 hind them should pass them in a swirl 
 of dust and pass on out of sight to 
 ward the far horizon line that stretched 
 the west. They were only two market 
 gardeners returning from business in 
 
 187
 
 188 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 the city. If they drove a good car, it 
 was to save time going and coming not 
 to race with escaping fugitives and ex 
 cited police They had no wish to 
 
 race with the excited police fervently 
 they had no wish for it and they slack 
 ened speed a little, drawing freer 
 breath .... Let the fellow pass them 
 and his police with him before they 
 reached a little, white, peaceful house 
 that stood ahead on the plain. . . . They 
 did not look behind at justice pursuing 
 
 its prey they had lost all interest 
 
 in justice and in the race. Presently, 
 when justice should pass them, on full- 
 spreading wing, they would look up with 
 casual glance, and note its flight over the 
 far line out of sight in the distant 
 
 west But now they did not know 
 
 of its existence. 
 
 And Achilles, pressing fast, had a 
 quick, clear sense of mystery some 
 thing that brooded ahead on the shin 
 ing plain and the little, white house and 
 the car before him slackening speed . . . 
 Why should it slow down? what
 
 AND RACES FOR THE CLUE 189 
 
 was up? . . . Cautiously he held his car, 
 slowing its waving gleam to the pace 
 ahead and darting a swift glance be 
 hind, over his shoulder; at the great 
 service car that leaped and gained on 
 him lap by lap. It would overtake him 
 soon and he must not pass the car 
 ahead not till he saw what they were 
 up to. ... Would they pass that little 
 white house on the plain or would 
 they turn in there ? The wind 
 hummed in his ears his hair flew and 
 his hand held tense to the wheel slow 
 ing it cautiously, inch by inch slack 
 ening a little slackening again with 
 quick-flung, flashing glance behind and 
 
 a watchful eye on the car ahead 
 
 and on the little white house drawing 
 near on the plain. It was a race 
 now between his quick mind and that 
 car ahead and the little white house .... 
 He must not overtake them till the 
 little house was reached. . . The car 
 behind must not touch him not till the 
 house came up. There was a wood 
 ahead, in the distance his mind flew and
 
 190 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 circled the wood and came back .... 
 They had reached the little house 
 asleep in the sun. They were passing 
 it, neck and neck, and the car beside him 
 swerved a little and slackened speed 
 and dived in at the white gate. Achil 
 les shot past the great racing car be 
 neath him the free road ahead. The 
 machine under him gathered speed and 
 opened out and laughed and leaped to 
 the road and lay down in the thick 
 dust, spreading itself ahead. . . . He 
 could gain the wood. . . . He should 
 escape and the clue was fast. . . . 
 
 Behind him, the service car thundered 
 by the little house asleep. But the po 
 lice did not glance that way nor did 
 the big, white-capped man glance that 
 way. His eyes were fixed on the racer 
 ahead dwindling to a speck in its cloud 
 of dust. . . . He pushed up his visor 
 and laughed aloud. . . . "Give it up!" 
 he said genially, "give it up ! you can t 
 catch that car! I know my own car, I 
 guess ! He laughed again. * * We shall
 
 AND RACES FOR THE CLUE 191 
 
 find it somewhere along the road when 
 he is through with it!" 
 
 But the face beside him, turning in 
 the clouding dust, had a keen look and 
 the car kept its unbroken speed, and the 
 plain flashed by, "He s in too big a 
 hurry " said the driver sternly. . . . 
 "I want a look at that man! He knows 
 too much!" 
 
 Too much! The heart of Achilles 
 sang again all the heart of him woke 
 up and laughed to the miles. . . . He 
 had found his clue he had passed the 
 little hundred-thousand-dollar house, 
 and the police in their big, bungling dust 
 had passed it, too. Nobody knew but 
 him. . . . and he should escape over 
 the long road. . . . with the big ma 
 chine, under him, pounding away.
 
 XXVII 
 
 THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 IN an angle of the wood the dust-cov 
 ered policeman and the white-capped 
 man came upon the racer, turned a lit 
 tle from the road, and waiting their ar 
 rival. It had a stolid, helpless look 
 with its nose buried deep in underbrush 
 and the hind wheels tilted a little in air. 
 One might almost fancy it gave a lit 
 tle, subdued hiccough, as they ap 
 proached. 
 
 The white-capped man bent above it 
 and ran a quick hand along the side, and 
 leaped to the vacant seat. The beast 
 beneath gave a little snort and with 
 drew its nose and pranced playfully at 
 the underbrush and backed away, feel 
 ing for firm ground behind. The man 
 at the wheel pressed hard, leaning 
 with quick jerk and wheels gripped 
 ground and trundled in the road. It 
 
 192
 
 THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE 193 
 
 stopped beside the service car and the 
 two men gazed doubtfully at the wood. 
 Dusty leaves trembled at them in the 
 light air, and beckoned to them little 
 twigs laced across and shut them 
 out Anywhere in the dark cool 
 ness of the wood, the Greek lurked, hid 
 ing away. They could not trace him 
 and the wood reached far into the dusk. 
 He was undoubtedly armed. Only a 
 desperate man would have made a dash 
 like that for life. Better go back to 
 town for reinforcements and send the 
 word of his escape along the line. He 
 would not get far on foot ! They gave 
 another glance at the wood and loosed 
 their cars to the road, gliding smoothly 
 off. The wood behind them, under its 
 cover of dust, gave no sign of watching 
 eyes ; and the sun, travelling toward the 
 west, cast their long, clean shadows 
 ahead as they went. In the low light, 
 the little, white house in the distance 
 had a rosy, moody look. As they drew 
 nearer, little pink details flashed out. 
 An old man behind the picket fence
 
 194 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 looked up, and straightened himself, and 
 gazed under a shading hand. Then he 
 came along the driveway and stood in 
 the white gate, waiting their approach. 
 He had a red, guileless face and white 
 hair. The face held a look of childish 
 interest as they drew up. "You got 
 him?" he asked. 
 
 The service man shook his head, jerk 
 ing his thumb at the racer that came 
 behind "Got the car," he said. "He 
 got off took to the woods." 
 
 "That so!" The old man came out 
 to the road and looked with curious eyes 
 at the big racing-machine coming up. 
 "What d he do?" he asked. 
 
 "He stole my machine," said the 
 white-capped man quickly. He was 
 holding the wheel with a careful 
 touch. 
 
 The old man looked at him with 
 shrewd, smiling eyes chewing at some 
 invisible cud. The service man nodded 
 to him, "There ll be a reward out for 
 him, Jimmie keep a watch out. You 
 may have a chance at it. He s hiding
 
 THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE 195 
 
 somewhere over there." He motioned 
 toward the distant wood. 
 
 The old man turned a slow eye toward 
 the west. "I don t own no telescope," 
 he said quaintly. He shifted the cud a 
 little, and gazed at the plain around 
 them far as the eye could see, it 
 stretched on every side. Only the little, 
 white house stood comfortably in its 
 midst open to the eye of heaven. It 
 was a rambling, one story and a half 
 house, with no windows above the 
 ground floor except at the rear, where 
 one window, under a small peak, faced 
 the north. Beyond the house, in that 
 direction, lay lines of market garden 
 and beyond the garden the wide 
 
 plain Two men, at work in the 
 
 garden, hoed with long, easy strokes 
 that lengthened in the slanting light. 
 The service man looked at them with 
 casual eye "Got good help this year?" 
 he asked. 
 
 The old man faced about, and his eye 
 regarded them mildly. . . . "Putty 
 good," he said, "they re my sister s
 
 196 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 boys. . . . She died this last year 
 along in April and they come on to 
 help. Yes, they work putty good." 
 
 "They drove in ahead of us, didn t 
 they?" asked the service man, with sud 
 den thought. 
 
 The old man smiled drily. . . . 
 "Didn t know s you see em. You was 
 so occupied. . . . Yes they d been in 
 to sell the early potatoes. I ve got a 
 putty good crop this year early po 
 tatoes. They went in to make a price 
 on em. We ll get seventy-five if we 
 take em in to-morrow and they asked 
 what to do and I told em they better 
 dig." He chuckled slowly. 
 
 The service man smiled. "You keep 
 em moving, don t you, Jimmie!" He 
 glanced at the house. "Any trade f 
 Got a license this year?" 
 
 The old man shook his head "Bone 
 dry," he said, chewing slowly. "Them 
 cars knocked me out!" He came and 
 stood by the racer, running his hand 
 along it with childish touch.
 
 THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE 197 
 
 The service man watched him with de 
 tached smile. The old man s silly 
 shrewdness amused him. He suspected 
 him of a cask or two in the cellar. In 
 the days of bicycles the old man had 
 driven a lively trade; but with the long- 
 reaching cars, his business dribbled 
 away, and he had slipped back from 
 whiskey to potatoes. He was a little 
 disgruntled at events, and would talk 
 socialism by the hour to anyone who 
 would listen. But he was a harmless 
 old soul. The service man glanced at 
 the sun. It had dipped suddenly, and 
 the plain grew dusky black. The dis 
 tant figures hoeing against the plain 
 were lost to sight. "Hallo!" said the 
 service man quickly, "we must get 
 on " Pie looked again, shrewdly, 
 toward the old man in the dusk 
 "You couldn t find a drop of anything, 
 handy to give away Jimmie?" he 
 suggested. 
 
 The old man tottered a slow smile at 
 him and moved toward the house. He
 
 198 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 came back with a long-necked bottle 
 grasped tight, and a couple of glasses 
 that he filled in the dimness. 
 
 The service man held up his glass 
 with quick gesture "Here s to you, 
 Jimmie!" he said, throwing back his 
 head. "May you live long, and pros 
 per!" He gulped it down. 
 
 The old man s toothless "smile received 
 the empty glasses; and when the two 
 machines had trundled away in the dim 
 ness, it stood looking after them the 
 deep smile of guileless, crafty old age- 
 that suffers and waits and clutches its 
 morsel at last and fastens on it with 
 out joy, and without shame.
 
 XXVIII 
 
 INSIDE THE LITTLE HOUSE 
 
 THE two figures amid the rows of the 
 market garden paused, in the enveloping 
 dusk, and leaned on their hoes, and lis 
 tened a low, peevish whistle, like the 
 call of a night-jar, on the plain, came to 
 them. Presently the call repeated it 
 self three wavering notes and they 
 shouldered their hoes and moved toward 
 the little house. 
 
 The old man emerged from the gloom, 
 coming toward them. . . . "What was 
 it!" asked one of the figures quickly. 
 
 The old man chuckled. "Stole a 
 racer that s about all tliey knew you 
 got off easy!" He was peering toward 
 them. 
 
 The larger of the two figures straight 
 ened itself. "I am sick of it I tell 
 you! my back s broke!" He moved 
 himself in the dusk, stretching out his 
 
 199
 
 200 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 great arms and looking about him 
 vaguely. 
 
 The old man eyed him shrewdly. 
 "You re earning a good pile," he said. 
 
 "Yes one-seventy-five a day!" The 
 man laughed a little. 
 
 The other man had not spoken. He 
 slipped forward through the dusk 
 "Supper ready?" he asked. 
 
 They followed him into the house, 
 stopping in an entry to wash their hands 
 and remove their heavy shoes. Through 
 the door opening to a room beyond, a 
 woman could be seen, moving briskly, 
 and the smell of cooking floated out. 
 They sniffed at it hungrily. 
 
 The woman came to the door 
 "Hurry up, boys everything s done to 
 death!" 
 
 They came in hastily, with half-dried 
 hands, and she looked at them a laugh 
 in her round, keen face. "You have 
 had a day!" she said. She was tall and 
 angular, and her face had a sudden 
 roundness a kind of motherly, Dutch
 
 INSIDE THE LITTLE HOUSE 201 
 
 doll, set on its high, lean frame. Her 
 body moved in soft jerks. 
 
 She heaped up the plates with quick 
 hands, and watched the men while they 
 ate. For a time no one spoke. The old 
 man went to the cellar and brought up 
 a great mug of beer, and they filled their 
 pipes and sat smoking and sipping the 
 beer stolidly. The windows were 
 open to the air and the shades were 
 up. Any one passing on the long road, 
 over the plain, might look in on them. 
 The woman toasted a piece of bread 
 and moistened it with a little milk and 
 put it, with a glass of milk, on a small 
 tray. The men s eyes followed her, in 
 different. They watched her lift the 
 tray and carry it to a door at the back 
 of the room, and disappear. 
 
 They smoked on in silence. 
 
 The old man reached out for his glass. 
 He lifted it. "Two weeks and three 
 more days," he said. He sipped the 
 beer slowly. 
 
 The larger of the two men nodded.
 
 202 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 He had dark, regular features and red 
 dish hair. He looked heavy and tired. 
 He opened his lips vaguely. 
 
 "Don t talk here!" said the younger 
 man sharply and he gave a quick 
 glance at the room as a weasel returns 
 to cover, in a narrow place. 
 
 The big man smiled. " I wa n t going 
 to say anything." 
 
 "Better not!" said the other. He 
 cleared his pipe with his little finger. 
 "/ don t even think," he added softly. 
 
 The woman had come back with the 
 tray and the men looked up, smoking. 
 
 She set the tray down, by the sink and 
 came over to them, standing with both 
 hands on her high hips. She regarded 
 them gravely and glanced at the tray. 
 The milk and toast were untouched. 
 
 The old man removed his pipe and 
 looked at her plaintively "Can t ye 
 make her, Lena?" he said. His high 
 voice had a shrill note. 
 
 She shook her head. "I can t do any 
 thing not anything more." 
 
 She moved away and began to gather
 
 INSIDE THE LITTLE HOUSE 203 
 
 up the dishes from the table, clearing it 
 with swift jerks. She paused a mo 
 ment and leaned over the platter in 
 her hand half-lifted from its place 
 She needs the air," she said, "and to 
 run about she s sick shut up like 
 that!" She lifted the platter and car 
 ried it to the sink, a troubled look in 
 her eyes "I won t be responsible for 
 her not much longer," she said slowly, 
 as she set it down, " not if she doesn t 
 get down in the air." 
 
 The men looked at each other in si 
 lence. The old man got up "Time to 
 go to bed " he said slowly. 
 
 They filed out of the room. The 
 woman s eyes followed them. Pres 
 ently the door opened and the younger 
 man returned, with soft, quick steps. 
 He looked at her "I want to talk," he 
 said. 
 
 "In a minute," she replied. She nod 
 ded toward the cellar "The lantern s 
 down there you go along." 
 
 He opened the door and stepped cau 
 tiously into blackness, and she heard a
 
 204 MR. ACHIKLES 
 
 quick, scratching match on the plaster 
 behind the closed door, and his feet de 
 scending the stairs. 
 
 She drew forward the kettle on the 
 stove and replenished the fire, and blew 
 out the hand lamp on the table. Then 
 she groped her way to the cellar door, 
 opening it with noiseless touch. . . . 
 
 The young man waited below, impa 
 tient. On- a huge barrel near by, the 
 lantern cast a yellow circle on the black 
 ness. 
 
 The woman approached it, her high- 
 stepping figure flung in shadowy move 
 ment along the wall behind her. 
 
 "You can t back out now!" He 
 spoke quickly. "You re weakening! 
 And you ve got to brace up do you 
 hear ! 
 
 The woman s round face smiled 
 over the light on the barrel "I m all 
 right," she said. She hesitated a min 
 ute. . . . "It s the child that s not all 
 right," she added slowly. "And to 
 night I got scared yes " She waited 
 a breath.
 
 INSIDE THE LITTLE HOUSE 205 
 
 11 What s the matter?" he said 
 roughly. 
 
 She waited again. "She wasn t like 
 flesh and blood to-night," she said 
 slowly. "I felt as if a breath would 
 blow her out She drew her hand 
 quickly across her eyes. "I ve got fond 
 of the little thing, John I can t seem 
 to have her hurt!" 
 
 "Who s hurting her?" said the man 
 sharply. "You take care of her and 
 she s all right." 
 
 "I can t, John. She needs the out 
 doors. She s like a little bird up 
 there shut up ! " 
 
 "Then let her out said the man 
 savagely. "Let her out up there!" 
 His lifted hand pointed to the plain 
 about them in open scorn. He leaned 
 forward and spoke more persuasively, 
 close to her ear "We can t back out 
 now " he said, "the child knows too 
 much!" He gave the barrel beside 
 them a significant tap "We couldn t 
 use this plant again six years dig 
 ging it and waiting and starving!"
 
 206 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 He struck the barrel sharply. "I tell 
 you weVe got to put it through! You 
 keep her out of sight ! 
 
 "Her own mother wouldn t know 
 her said the woman slowly. 
 
 He met the look and waited. 
 
 "I tell you, I ve done everything," she 
 said with quick passion. "I ve fed her 
 and amused her and told her stories 
 I don t dare keep her any longer ! She 
 touched the barrel beside them "I tell 
 you, you might as well put her under 
 that. . . . You ll put her under for 
 good if you don t look out!" she said 
 significantly. 
 
 "All right," said the man sullenly, 
 "what do you want?" 
 
 She was smiling again the round, 
 keen smile, on its high frame. "Let 
 her breathe a bit like a child and run 
 out in the sun. The sun will cure her ! * 
 she added quickly. 
 
 "All right if you take the risk 
 a hundred-thousand-dollars and your 
 own daughter thrown to the devil if 
 we lose ! . . You know that!"
 
 INSIDE THE LITTLE HOUSE 207 
 
 "I know, John I want the money 
 more than you want it ! " She spoke with 
 quick, fierce loyalty. "I d give my life 
 for Mollie or to keep her straight 
 but I can t kill a child to keep her 
 straight not this child to keep her 
 straight!" Her queer, round face 
 worked, against the yellow light. 
 
 He looked at it, half contemptuously, 
 and turned to the barrel. 
 
 "See if everything s all right," he 
 said. "If we re going to take risks 
 we ve got to be ready." 
 
 The woman lifted the lantern, and he 
 pushed against the barrel. It yielded 
 to his weight the upper part turning 
 slowly on a pivot. Something inside 
 swashed against the sides as it turned. 
 The man bent over the hole and peered 
 in. He stepped down cautiously, feel 
 ing with his foot and disappearing, 
 inch by inch, into the opening. The 
 woman held the light above him, look 
 ing down with quick, tense eyes 
 
 a hand reached up to her, out of the hole, 
 beckoning for the lantern and she knelt
 
 208 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 down, guiding it toward the waving nn- 
 gers. ... A sound of something creak 
 ing a hinge half turned caught her 
 breath and she leaned forward, blow 
 ing at the lantern. She got quickly to 
 her feet and groped for the swinging 
 barrel, turning it swiftly over the 
 hole the liquid chugged softly against 
 
 its side and stopped Her breath 
 
 listened up into the darkness. . . . The 
 door above creaked again softly and 
 a shuffling foot groped at the stair . . . 
 You down there Lena f called an old 
 voice. 
 
 She laughed out softly, moving to 
 ward the stair "Go to bed, father." 
 
 "What you doing down there?" asked 
 the old voice in the darkness. 
 
 * Testing the barrel, said the woman. 
 " John s gone down." She came to the 
 foot of the stair, "You go to bed, 
 father" 
 
 "You better come to bed all of ye," 
 grumbled the old man. 
 
 "We re coming in a minute." She
 
 INSIDE THE LITTLE HOUSE 209 
 
 heard his hand fumble at the door and 
 it creaked again softly and closed. 
 
 She groped her way back to the bar 
 rel, waiting beside it in the darkness.
 
 XXIX 
 
 UPSTAIRS 
 
 WHEN the man s head reappeared, he 
 came up briskly. 
 
 "All right?" she asked. 
 
 "All right," he responded. 
 
 "Did you test the other end?" 
 
 "Right through said the man. 
 "Safe as a church! The water barrel 
 in the garden stuck a little but I eased 
 it up He looked back into the hole, 
 as he stepped out, "Too bad we had to 
 take her down," he said regretfully 
 
 "The police might a stopped," said 
 the woman. "You couldn t tell." 
 
 They swung the barrel in place, and 
 blew out the lantern, and the man as 
 cended the stair. After a few minutes 
 the woman came up. The kitchen was 
 empty. The fire burning briskly cast a 
 line of light beneath the hearth, and on 
 the top of the stove the kettle hummed 
 210
 
 UPSTAIRS 211 
 
 quietly. She lighted a lamp and lifted 
 the kettle, filling her dishpan with soft 
 
 steam Any one peering in at the 
 
 open window would have seen only a 
 tall woman, with high shoulders, bend 
 ing above her cloud of steam and wash 
 ing dishes, with a quiet, round face ab 
 sorbed in thought. 
 
 When she had finished at the sink and 
 tidied the room, she took the lamp and 
 went into the small hall at the rear, and 
 mounted the steep stairs. At the top 
 she paused and fitted a key and entered 
 a low room. She put down the lamp 
 and crossed to the door on the other 
 side and listened. The sound of low 
 breathing came lightly to her, and her 
 face relaxed. She came back to the bu 
 reau, looking down thoughtfully at the 
 coarse towel that covered it, and the 
 brush and comb and tray of matches. 
 There was nothing else on the bureau. 
 But on a little bracket at the side the 
 picture of a young girl, with loose, full 
 lips and bright eyes, looked out from a 
 great halo of pompadour with the half-
 
 212 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 wistful look of youth. The mother s 
 eyes returned to the picture and her 
 keen face softened. . . . She must save 
 Mollie and the child in the next room- 
 she must save them both. . . . She lis 
 tened to the child again, breathing be 
 yond the open door. She looked again 
 at the picture, with hungry eyes. . . . 
 Her own child her Mollie had never 
 had a chance she had loved gay 
 things and there was no money al 
 ways hard work and wet feet and rough, 
 pushing cars. . . . No wonder she had 
 gone wrong! But she would come back 
 now .... There would be money 
 enough and they would go away to 
 gether .... Twenty-five thousand dol 
 lars. . . She looked long at the pitiful, 
 weak, pictured face and blew out the 
 light and crept into bed. . . . And in the 
 next room the child s even breathing 
 came and went. . . . and, at intervals, 
 across it in the darkness, another 
 sound the woman s quick, indrawn 
 breath that could not rest.
 
 ASLEEP 
 
 IN the morning the woman was up 
 with the first light. And as the men 
 came grumbling in to breakfast, the 
 round face wore its placid smile. They 
 joked her and ate hastily and departed 
 for the open field. ... It was part of a 
 steady policy to be always in the 
 open busy, hard-working men who 
 could not afford to lose an hour. The 
 excursion had been a quick, reckless re 
 volt against weeks of weeding and 
 planting and digging. . . . But they had 
 had their lesson. They were not likely 
 to stir from their strip of market gar 
 den on the plain not till the time was 
 up. ... 
 
 As the woman went about her work, 
 she listened, and stopped and went to 
 the door for some sound from up 
 stairs. Presently she went up .... 
 
 213
 
 214 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 and opened the door . . . and looked 
 in. 
 
 The child lay with one hand thrown 
 above her head a drawn look in the 
 softly arched brow and half-parted 
 
 lips The woman bent over her, 
 
 listening and placed her hand on the 
 small wrist and counted waiting. 
 The eyes flashed open and looked at 
 her . . . . "I thought you were Nono," 
 said the child. A wistful look filled her 
 face and her lip quivered a little out 
 of it and steadied itself. . . . "You 
 are Mrs. Seabury," she said quietly. 
 
 "Yes," said the woman cheerfully 
 "Time to get up, dearie." She turned 
 away and busied herself with the clothes 
 hanging from their hooks. 
 
 The child s eyes followed her 
 dully .... "I don t think I care to get 
 up," she said at last. 
 
 The woman brought the clothes and 
 placed them by the bed, and smiled down 
 at her. "There s something nice to 
 day," she said casually. "We re going 
 out-doors to-day "
 
 ASLEEP 215 
 
 "Can I?" said the child. She flashed 
 a smile and sat up "Can I go out-of- 
 doors?" It was a little cry of waiting 
 and the woman s hand dashed across 
 her eyes at the keenness of it. Then 
 she smiled the round, assuring smile, 
 and held up the clothes. . . . "You 
 hurry up and dress and eat your break 
 fast," she said, " a good, big break 
 fast and we are going out in the 
 sun you and me." She nodded cheer 
 fully and went out. 
 
 The child put one foot over the edge 
 of the bed and looked down at it a lit 
 tle wistfully and placed the other be 
 side it. ... They were very dark, little 
 feet a queer, brown colour and the 
 legs above them, were the same curious 
 brown and the small straight back- 
 as she stepped from the bed and slipped 
 off her nightgown and bent above the 
 clothes on the chair. . . . The colour ran 
 up to her throat around it, and over 
 the whole sunny face and hands and 
 arms a strange, eclipsing, brown dis 
 guise There had been a quick,
 
 216 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 sharp plan to take her abroad and they 
 prepared her hastily against risks on 
 board the steamer. The plan had been 
 abandoned as too dangerous. But the 
 colour clung to the soft skin; and the 
 hair, cropped close to the neck, had a 
 
 stubby, uncouth look No one 
 
 seeking Betty Harris, would have looked 
 twice at the queer, little, brownie-like 
 creature, dressing itself with careful 
 haste. It lifted a plaid dress from the 
 chair large squares of red and green 
 plaid and looked at it with raised 
 brows and dropped it over the cropped 
 head. The skirt came to the top of the 
 rough shoes on the small feet. Betty 
 Harris looked down at the skirt and 
 smoothed it a little .... and dropped 
 on her knees beside the bed the red and 
 green plaids sweeping around her and 
 said the little prayer that Miss Stone 
 had taught her to say at home.
 
 XXXI 
 
 A BUTTERFLY FLIGHT 
 
 SHE came down the stairs with slow feet, 
 pausing a little on each stair, as if to 
 taste the pleasure that was coming to 
 her. . . . She was going out-of-doors 
 under the sky! 
 
 She pushed open the door at the foot 
 and looked into the small hall she had 
 been here before. They had hurried 
 her through into the kitchen, and down 
 to the cellar. They had stayed there a 
 long time hours and hours and Mrs. 
 Seabury had held her on her lap and 
 told her stories. . . . 
 
 She stepped down the last step into 
 the hall. The outside door at the end 
 was open and through it she could see 
 the men at work in the garden and the 
 warm, shimmering air. She looked, with 
 eager lip, and took a step forward and 
 remembered and turned toward the 
 
 217
 
 218 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 kitchen. . . . Mrs. Seabury had said she 
 must have breakfast first a good, big 
 
 breakfast and then She opened 
 
 the door and looked in. The woman 
 was standing by the stove. She looked 
 up with a swift glance and nodded to 
 her "That s right, dearie. Your 
 breakfast is all ready you come in and 
 eat it." She drew up a chair to the ta 
 ble and brought a glass of milk and 
 tucked the napkin under her brown chin, 
 watching her with keen, motherly eyes, 
 while she ate. 
 
 " That s a good girl!" she said. She 
 took the empty plate and carried it to 
 the sink. "Now you wait till I ve 
 washed these and then !" She nod 
 ded toward the open window. 
 
 The child slipped down and came over 
 to her and stood beside her while she 
 worked, her eyes full of a little, wistful 
 hope. "I ve most forgot about out-of- 
 doors," she said. 
 
 "Oh, you remember it all right. It s 
 just the same it always was," said the 
 woman practically. "Now I ll stir up
 
 A BUTTERFLY FLIGHT 219 
 
 some meal and we ll go feed the chicks. 
 . . . I ve got ten of em little ones." 
 She mixed the yellow meal and stirred 
 it briskly, and took down her sun-bonnet 
 and looked at the child dubiously 
 You haven t any hat," she said. 
 
 The child s hand lifted to the rough, 
 cropped hair "I did have a hat with 
 red cherries on it," she suggested. 
 
 The woman turned away brusquely. 
 "That s gone with your other things 
 I ll have to tie a handkerchief on you." 
 
 She brought a big, coloured kerchief 
 red with blue spots on it and bound 
 it over the rough hair and stood back 
 and looked at it, and reached out her 
 hand "It won t do," she said thought 
 fully. The small face, outlined in the 
 smooth folds, had looked suddenly and 
 strangely refined. The woman took off 
 the handkerchief and roughened the hair 
 with careful hand. 
 
 The child waited patiently. "I don t 
 need a hat, do I?" she said politely. 
 
 The woman looked at her again and 
 took up the dish of meal. "You re all
 
 220 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 right, " she said, "we shan t stay long." 
 
 "I should Uke to stay a long, long 
 time!" said Betty. 
 
 The woman smiled. "You re going 
 out every day, you know." 
 
 "Yes." The child skipped a little in 
 the clumsy shoes, and they passed into 
 the sunshine. 
 
 The woman looked about her with 
 practical eyes. ... In the long rows of 
 the garden the men were at work. But 
 up and down the dusty road across the 
 plain no one was in sight, and she 
 stepped briskly toward an open shed, 
 rapping her spoon a little against the 
 side of the basin she carried, and cluck 
 ing gently. 
 
 The child beside her moved slowly 
 looking up at the sky, as if half afraid. 
 She seemed to move with alien feet un 
 der the sky. . . . Then a handful of yel 
 low, downy balls darted from the shed, 
 skittering toward them, and she fell to 
 her knees, reaching out her hands to 
 them and crooning softly. "The dear 
 things!" she said swiftly.
 
 A BUTTERFLY FLIGHT 221 
 
 The woman smiled, and moved toward 
 the shed, tapping on the side of her 
 pan and the yellow brood wheeled with 
 the sound, on twinkling legs and swift, 
 stubby wings. 
 
 The child s eyes devoured them. 
 "They belong to you, don t they!" she 
 cried softly. "They re your own your 
 very own chickens ! Her laugh crept 
 over them and her eyes glowed. "See 
 the little one, Mrs. Seabury! Just see 
 him run!" She had dropped to her 
 knees again breathless beside the 
 board where they pushed and perked 
 and gobbled the little, wet lumps of the 
 meal, and darted their shiny black bills 
 at the board. 
 
 The woman handed her the pan. 
 "You can feed them if you want to," 
 she said. 
 
 The child took the basin, with shining 
 eyes, and the woman moved away. She 
 examined the slatted box where the 
 mother hen ran to and fro, with cluck 
 ing wings and gave her some fresh wa 
 ter and looked in the row of nests along
 
 222 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 the side of the shed, and took out a 
 handful of eggs, carrying them in wide 
 spread, careful fingers. 
 
 The child, squatting by the board, was 
 looking about her with happy eyes. 
 She d almost forgotten the prisoned 
 room up stairs and the long lonesome 
 days. The woman came over to her, 
 smiling. I ve found seven," she said. 
 The child s eyes rested on them. Then 
 they flitted to the sunshine outside. . . . 
 A yellow butterfly was fluttering in the 
 light across the opening of the shed. 
 It lighted on a beam and opened slow 
 wings, and the child s eyes laughed 
 softly .... she moved tiptoe . . . "I 
 saw a beautiful butterfly once!" she 
 said. But the woman did not hear. . . 
 She had passed out of the shed around 
 the corner and was looking after the 
 chickens outside her voice clucking to 
 them lightly. . . . The child moved to 
 ward the butterfly, absorbed in shining 
 thought "It was a beautiful but 
 terfly " she said softly, "in a Greek 
 shop." The wings of the butterfly rose
 
 A BUTTERFLY FLIGHT 223 
 
 and circled vaguely and passed behind 
 her, and she wheeled about, peering up 
 into the dark shed. She saw the yellow 
 wings up there poise themselves, and 
 wait a minute and sail toward the light 
 
 outside But she did not turn to 
 
 follow its flight Across the brown 
 boards of the shed behind a pile of 
 lumber, against the wall up there a 
 head had lifted itself and was looking 
 at her. She caught her breath "I saw 
 a butterfly once!" she repeated dully. 
 It was half a sob The head laid a 
 long, dark finger on its lip and sank 
 from sight. . . . The child wheeled to 
 ward the open light the woman was 
 coming in, her hands filled with eggs. 
 "I must carry these in," she said 
 briskly. She looked at the child. "You 
 can stay and play a little while if you 
 want to. But you must not go away, 
 you know." 
 
 "I will not go away," said the child, 
 breathless. 
 
 So the woman turned and left her 
 and the child s eyes followed her.
 
 xxxn 
 
 AND A VOICE 
 
 you hear me, little Miss Harris?" 
 The voice came from the dusky shed, 
 high up against the wall. 
 
 But the child did not turn her head. 
 "Yes Mr. Achilles I can hear you 
 very well, she said softly. 
 
 " Don t look this way," said the voice. 
 "Get down and look at the chickens 
 and listen to what I tell you." 
 
 The child dropped obediently to her 
 knees, her head a little bent, her face 
 toward the open light outside. 
 
 The woman, going about her work in 
 the kitchen, looked out and saw her and 
 nodded to her kindly 
 
 The child s lips made a little smile in 
 return. They were very pale. 
 
 "I come to take you home," said the 
 voice. It was full of tenderness and 
 Betty Harris bent her head, a great 
 
 224
 
 AND A VOICE 225 
 
 wave of homesickness sweeping across 
 her "I can t go, Mr. Achilles." It 
 was like a sob "I can t go. . . . They 
 will kill you ... I heard them. . . . 
 They will kill anybody that comes !" 
 She spoke in swift little whispers and 
 waited. Can you hear me say it ? " she 
 asked. . . . "Can you hear me say it, 
 Mr. Achilles?" 
 
 "I hear it yes." The voice of 
 Achilles laughed a little. "They will 
 not kill little lady, and you go home 
 with me to-night." The voice dropped 
 down from its high place and comforted 
 her. 
 
 She reached out little hands to the 
 chickens and laughed tremulously. "I 
 am afraid," she said softly, "I am 
 afraid!" 
 
 But the low voice, up in the dusk, 
 steadied her and gave her swift com 
 mands and repeated them till she 
 crept from the dim shed into the light 
 and stood up blinking a little and 
 looked about her and laughed happily. 
 
 And the woman came to the door and
 
 226 ME. ACHILLES 
 
 smiled at her. "You must come in," 
 she called. 
 
 "Yes Mrs. Seabury " The child 
 darted back into the shed and gathered 
 up the spoon and basin from the board 
 and looked about her swiftly. In the 
 slatted box, the mother hen clucked 
 drowsily, and wise cheeps from be 
 neath her wings answered bravely. 
 The child glanced at the box, and up 
 at the dusky boards of the shed, peer 
 ing far in the dimness. But there 
 was no one not even a voice just the 
 high, tumbled pile of boards and the 
 few nests along the wall and the mother 
 hen clucking cosily behind her slats 
 and the wise little cheeps.
 
 XXXIII 
 
 "WAKE UP, MRS. SEABTJRY!" 
 
 THE child lay with her hands clasped, 
 breathing lightly. The sound of voices 
 came drowsily from the kitchen .... 
 she must not go to sleep! She sat up 
 and leaned toward the little window 
 that looked out to the north. Through 
 the blackness the stars twinkled mistily, 
 and she put her foot carefully over the 
 edge of the bed and slipped down. The 
 window was open as far as the small 
 sash allowed and a warm, faint breeze 
 came across the plain to her. She 
 leaned against the sill, looking out. It 
 
 was not far to the ground But 
 
 she could see only vague blackness down 
 there, and she looked again up to the 
 twinkling stars. . . . They were little 
 points of light up there, and she looked 
 up trustfully while the warm wind blew 
 against her. . . . Her heart was beating 
 
 227
 
 228 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 very hard and fast but she was not 
 afraid. . . Mr. Achilles had said not 
 to be afraid and he was waiting 
 down there in the blackness to take her 
 home .... She crept back to bed and 
 lay down very still. ... In the room 
 below there was a scraping of chairs 
 and louder words and footsteps. . . . 
 Someone had opened the door under her 
 window and the smell of tobacco came 
 up. . . . Her little nose disdained it 
 and listened, alert. Footsteps went out 
 into the night and moved a little away 
 on the gravel and came back, and the 
 door closed. . . . She could hear the 
 bolt click to its place and the footsteps 
 
 shuffle along the hall The voices 
 
 below had ceased and the house was 
 still she was very sleepy now. But he 
 had said Mr. Achilles had said. . . . 
 She winked briskly and gave herself a 
 little pinch under the clothes and sat 
 up. It was a sharp little pinch 
 through many thicknesses of clothes. 
 Under the coarse nightgown buttoned 
 carefully to the throat, she was still
 
 "WAKE UP, MRS. SEABURY!" 229 
 
 wearing the red and green plaids and 
 all her day clothes. Only the clumsy 
 shoes, slipped off, stood by the bed, wait 
 ing for her. Her hand reached down 
 to them cautiously, and felt them 
 and she lay down and closed her 
 eyes. There was a step on the stairs- 
 coming slowly. Betty Harris grew very 
 still. ... If Mrs. Seabury came in and 
 stood and looked at her . . . she must 
 cry out and throw her arms around 
 her neck and tell her everything! She 
 could not hurt Mrs. Seabury. . . . Mr. 
 Achilles had said they would not hurt 
 her. She had asked him that three 
 times, herself and Mr. Achilles had 
 said it no one should hurt Mrs. Sea- 
 bury if Betty went away. . . . She 
 held her breath. . . . The footsteps had 
 come across the room to her door 
 they waited there. . . then they moved 
 on and she drew a free breath. Her 
 heart thumped to the vague movements 
 that came and went in the next room 
 they pottered about a little, and finally 
 ceased and a light, indrawn breath blew
 
 230 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 out the lamp a hand was groping for 
 the handle of her door and opening it 
 softly and the bare feet moved 
 away . . . The bed- springs in the next 
 room creaked a little and everything was 
 still. Betty Harris had a quick sense of 
 pain .... Mrs. Seabury was kind to 
 her ! She had been so kind that first day, 
 when they brought her in out of the hot 
 sun, and she had stumbled on the stairs 
 and sobbed out Mrs. Seabury had 
 picked her up and carried her up the 
 stairs and comforted her. . . . and told 
 her what it meant these strange harsh 
 men seizing her in the open sunshine, as 
 they swept past covering her mouth 
 with hard hands and hurrying her out 
 of the city to this stifling place. . . . 
 She loved Mrs. Seabury. . . . Perhaps 
 they would put her in prison . . . and 
 never let her out and Mollie would not 
 get well. The child gave a little, 
 quick sob, in her thought, and lay very 
 still . . . Mollie had been good once, 
 and wicked men had hurt her . . . and 
 now her mother could not help her. . . .
 
 "WAKE UP, MRS. SEABURY!" 231 
 
 But Mr. Achilles said yes he said 
 it no one should hurt her. . . . And 
 with the thought of the Greek she lay in 
 the darkness, listening to the sounds of 
 the night. . . . There was a long, light 
 call somewhere across the plain, a train 
 of heavy Pullmans pushing through the 
 night the sound came to the child like 
 a whiff of breath, and passed away . . . 
 and the crickets chirped high and 
 shrill. ... In the next room, the breath 
 ing grew loud, and louder, in long, even 
 beats. . . . Mrs. Seabury was asleep! 
 Betty Harris sat up in bed, her little 
 hands clinched fast at her side. Then 
 she lay down again and waited . . . 
 and the breathing in the next room grew 
 loud, and regular, and full. . . . Mrs. Sea- 
 bury was very tired! And Betty Harris 
 listened, and slipped down from the bed, 
 and groped for her shoes and lifted 
 them like a breath and stepped high 
 
 across the floor, in the dim room 
 
 It was a slow flight .... tuned to 
 the long-drawn, falling breath of the 
 sleeper that did not break by a note
 
 232 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 not even when the brown hand released 
 the latch and a little, sharp click fell on 
 the air. . . "Wake up, Mrs. Seabury! 
 Wake up for Mollie s sake wake up ! " 
 the latch said. But the sleeper did not 
 stir only the long, regular, dream-filled, 
 droning sleep. . . . And the child crept 
 down the stair across the kitchen and 
 reached the outer door. . . . She was 
 not afraid now one more door! The 
 men would not hear her they were 
 asleep Mrs. Seabury was asleep 
 and her fingers turned the key softly 
 and groped to the bolt above and 
 pushed at it hard and fell back 
 and groped for it again and tugged . . . 
 little beads of sweat were coming on 
 the brown forehead. She drew the 
 back of her hand swiftly across them 
 and reached again to the bolt. ... It 
 was too high she could reach it but 
 not to push. . . . She felt for a chair, in 
 the darkness and lifted it, without a 
 sound, and carried it to the door and 
 climbed up. . . . There was a great 
 lump in her throat now. . . . Mr. Achil-
 
 "WAKE UP, MRS. SEABURY!" 233 
 
 les did not know the bolt would stick 
 like this she gave a fierce, soft tug, like 
 a sob and it slid back. The knob 
 turned and the door opened and she was 
 
 in the night For a moment her 
 
 eyes groped with the blackness. . . 
 Then a long, quiet hand reached out to 
 her and closed upon her and she gave 
 a little sob, and was drawn swiftly into 
 the night.
 
 XXXIV 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF STABS 
 
 "Is that you, Mr. Achilles?" she asked 
 into the dark. 
 
 And the voice of Achilles laughed 
 down to her. "I m here yes. It s 
 me. We must hurry now fast. 
 Come!" 
 
 He gripped the small hand in his and 
 they sped out of the driveway, toward 
 the long road. Up above them the lit 
 tle stars blinked down, and the warm 
 wind touched their faces as they went. 
 The soft darkness shut them in. There 
 was only the child, clinging to Achilles s 
 great hand and hurrying through the 
 night. Far in the distance, a dull, sul 
 len glow lit the sky the city s glow 
 and Betty s home, out there beneath it, 
 in the dark. But the child did not 
 know. She would not have known 
 which way the city lay but for Achil- 
 
 234
 
 les s guiding hand. She clung fast to 
 that and they sped on. 
 
 By and by he ran a little, reaching 
 down to her and his spirit touched hers 
 and she ran without fatigue beside him, 
 with little breathless laughs "I like 
 to run!" she said. 
 
 "Yes. come He hurried her 
 faster over the road he would not 
 spare her now. He held her life in his 
 hand and the little children he saw 
 them, asleep in their dreams, over there 
 in the glow. . . . "Come!" he said. 
 And they ran fast. 
 
 It was the first half hour he feared. 
 If there was no pursuit, over the dark 
 road behind them, then he would spare 
 her but not now. "Come!" he urged, 
 and they flew faster. 
 
 And behind them the little house lay 
 asleep under its stars no sign of life 
 when his swift-flashing glance sought it 
 out and the heart of Achilles stretched 
 to the miles and laughed with them and 
 leaped out upon them, far ahead. . . . 
 He should bring her home safe.
 
 236 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Then, upon the night, came a sound 
 faint-stirring wings - - a long-drawn 
 buzz and rush of air deep notes that 
 gripped the ground, far off and the 
 pulse of pounding wheels behind them, 
 along the dark road. . . . And Achil 
 les seized the child by the shoulder, 
 bearing her forward toward the short 
 grass his quick-running hand thrusting 
 her down i Lie still ! " he whispered. 
 The lights of the car had gleamed out, 
 swaying a little in the distance, as he 
 threw his coat across her and pressed 
 it flat. "Lie still!" he whispered 
 again, and was back in the road, his 
 hand feeling for the great banana knife 
 that rested in his shirt his eye search 
 ing the road behind. There was time 
 yes and he turned about and swung 
 into the long, stretching pace that cov 
 ers the miles without hurry, without 
 rest. The roar behind him grew, and 
 flashed to light and swept by and his 
 eye caught the face of the chauffeur, as 
 it flew, leaning intently on the night; 
 and in the lighted car behind him,
 
 THE FLIGHT OF STARS 237 
 
 flashed a face a man s face, outlined 
 against the glass, a high, white face 
 fixed upon a printed page some mag 
 nate, travelling at his ease, sleepless. . . . 
 thundering past in the night uncon 
 scious of the Greek, plodding in the 
 roadside dust. 
 
 Achilles knew that he had only to lift 
 his hand to cry out to them, as they 
 sped, and they would turn with leaping 
 wheel. There was not a man, hurrying 
 about his own affairs, who would not 
 gladly stop to gather up the child that 
 was lost. . . . Word had come to Philip 
 Harris east and west endless offers 
 of help. . . . But the great car thun 
 dered by and Achilles s glance followed 
 it, sweeping with it on toward the city 
 and the dull glow of sky. He was 
 breathing hard as he went, and he 
 plunged on a step two steps ten be 
 fore he held his pace; then he drew a 
 deep, free breath, and faced about. 
 The knife dropped back in his breast, 
 and his hand sought the revolver in 
 his hip pocket, crowding it down a lit-
 
 238 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 tie. . . . He had been sure he could face 
 them two of them three as many as 
 might be. ... But the car had swept 
 on, bearing its strangers to the city . . . 
 and the little house on the plain was still 
 asleep. He had a kind of happy super 
 stition that he was to save the child sin 
 gle-handed. . . . He had not trusted the 
 police . . . with their great, foolish fin 
 gers. They could not save his little girl. 
 She had needed Achilles and he had 
 held the thread of silken cobweb and 
 traced it bit by bit to the place where 
 they had hidden her. He should save 
 her! 
 
 He glanced at the stars an hour 
 gone and the long road to tramp. He 
 ran swiftly to the child in the grass and 
 lifted the coat and she leaped up, laugh 
 ing as if it were a game; and they 
 swung out into the road again, walking 
 with swift, even steps. "Are you 
 tired?" asked Achilles. But she shook 
 her head. 
 
 His hand in his pocket, in the dark 
 ness, had felt something and he pressed
 
 THE FLIGHT OF STARS 239 
 
 it toward her "Eat that," he said, 
 l you will be hungry. 
 
 She took it daintily, and felt of it, and 
 turned it over "What is it?" she asked. 
 Then she set her small teeth in it 
 and laughed out. "It s chocolate," 
 she exclaimed happily. She held it 
 up, "Will you have a bite, Mr. Achil 
 les?" 
 
 But Achilles had drawn out another 
 bit of tin-foil and opened it. "I have 
 yet more," he said, " two-three-six 
 piece. I put here in my pocket, every 
 day I carry chocolate till I find you. 
 Every day I say, she be hungry, 
 maybe then she like chocolate - 
 
 She nibbled it in happy little nibbles, 
 as they walked. "I didn t eat any sup 
 per," she said. "I w r as too happy 
 and too afraid, I guess. That was a 
 long time ago," she added, after a min 
 ute. 
 
 "A long time ago," said Achilles 
 cheerfully. Pie had taken her hand 
 again, and they trudged on under the 
 stars.
 
 240 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 "Nobody must hurt Mrs. Seabury!" 
 said the child suddenly. 
 
 "I tell you that," said Achilles he 
 had half stopped on the road. "No 
 body hurt that good lady she, your 
 friend. 
 
 "Yes, she is my friend. She was 
 good to me. . . . She had a little girl 
 once like me and some bad men hurt 
 her. ... I don t think they stole 
 her She pondered it a minute "I 
 don t seem to understand she gave a 
 little swift sigh. "But Mrs. Seabury is 
 going to take her a long, long way off 
 and keep her always." 
 
 Achilles nodded. "We help her do 
 that," he said. "They don t hurt that 
 good lady." 
 
 His eyes were on the stars, and he 
 lifted his face a little, breathing in the 
 freshness. A swift star shot across the 
 sky, falling to earth, and he pointed with 
 eager finger. The child looked up and 
 caught the falling flash, and they ran a 
 little, as if to follow the leaping of their 
 hearts. Then they went more slowly,
 
 THE FLIGHT OF STARS 241 
 
 and Achilles s long finger traced the 
 heavens for her the Greek gods up 
 there in their swinging orbits . . . the 
 warm, August night of the world. 
 Betty Harris had never known the stars 
 like this. . . . Safe from her window, 
 she had seen them twinkle out. . . . But 
 here they swept about her and the 
 plain reached wide and close, in the 
 darkness, a hand held her safe and the 
 long finger of Achilles touched the stars 
 and drew them down for her . . .Orion 
 there, marching with his mighty belt 
 and Mars red-gleaming. The long, 
 white plume of the milky way, trailing 
 soft glory on the sky and the great 
 bear to the north. The names filled her 
 ears with a mighty din, Calliope, Venus, 
 Uranus, Mercury, Mars and the shin 
 ing hosts of heaven passed by. Far be 
 yond them, mysterious other worlds 
 gleamed and glimmered - - without 
 name. . . . And the heart of the child 
 reached to them and travelled through 
 the vast arches of space, with her 
 dusty little feet on the wide plain, and a
 
 242 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 hand holding hers, safe and warm 
 down there in the darkness. . . . Her 
 eyes dropped from the stars and she 
 trudged on. 
 
 When Achilles spoke again, he was 
 telling her of Alcibiades and Yaxis and 
 of the long days of waiting and the hap 
 piness their coming would bring and of 
 her father and mother, asleep at Idle- 
 wood and the great house on the lake, 
 ready always, night and day, for her 
 coming 
 
 "Do they know " she asked quickly, 
 "that we are coming?" 
 
 "Nobody knows," said Achilles, "ex 
 cept you and me." 
 
 She laughed out, under the stars, and 
 stood still. "We shall surprise them!" 
 she said. 
 
 "Yes come!" They pressed on. 
 Far ahead, foolish little stars had 
 glimmered out close to the ground 
 the fingers of the city, stretching toward 
 the plain. 
 
 Her glance ran to them. "We re get 
 ting somewhere ?" she said swiftly.
 
 THE FLIGHT OF STARS 
 
 "We re getting home!" Her hand 
 squeezed his, swinging it a little. 
 
 "Not yet" said Achilles, "not 
 yet but we shall take the car there. 
 You need not walk any more." 
 
 She was very quiet and he leaned to 
 ward her anxiously. "You are not 
 tired," he asked. 
 
 "No Mr. Achilles I don t think 
 I m tired She held the words 
 slowly. "I just thought we d go on for 
 ever, walking like this She looked 
 up and swept her small hand toward the 
 stars. "I thought it was a dream- 
 she said softly "Like the other 
 dreams!" He felt a little, quick throb 
 run through her, and he bent again and 
 his fingers touched her cheek. 
 
 "I am not crying, Mr. Achilles," she 
 said firmly, "I only just There was 
 a little, choking sound and her face had 
 buried itself in his sleeve. 
 
 And Achilles bent to her with ten 
 der gesture. Then he lifted his head 
 and listened. . . . There was another 
 sound, on the plain, mingling with the
 
 244 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 sobs that swept across the child s 
 frame. 
 
 He touched her quietly. Someone is 
 coming," he said. 
 
 She lifted her face, holding her breath 
 with quick lip 
 
 The sound creaked to them, and muf 
 fled itself, and spread across the plain, 
 and came again in irregular rhythm that 
 grew to the slow beat of hoofs coming 
 upon the road. 
 
 Achilles listened back to the sound 
 and waited a minute. Then he covered 
 the child, as before, with his coat and 
 turned back, walking along the road to 
 meet the sound. It creaked toward him 
 and loomed through the light of the 
 stars a great market wagon loaded with 
 produce the driver leaning forward on 
 the seat with loose rein, half asleep. 
 Suddenly he lifted his head and tight 
 ened rein, peering forward through the 
 dark at the figure down there in the 
 road. Achilles held his way. 
 
 " Hello!" said the man sharply. 
 
 Achilles paused and looked up one
 
 THE FLIGHT OF STARS 245 
 
 hand resting lightly on his hip, turned 
 a little back the other thrust in his 
 breast. 
 
 The man s eyes scanned him through 
 the dimness. "Where you bound for? * 
 he asked curtly. 
 
 "I walk," said Achilles. 
 
 "Want a job?" asked the man. 
 
 "You got job for me?" asked Achil 
 les. His voice had all the guileless cau 
 tion of the foreigner astray in a free 
 land. The man moved along on the 
 seat. "Jump up," he said. 
 
 Achilles looked back and forth along 
 the road. "I think I go long," he said 
 slowly. 
 
 The man gave an impatient sound in 
 his throat and clicked to the horses. 
 The heavy wagon creaked into motion, 
 and caught its rhythm and rumbled on. 
 
 Achilles s ears followed it with deep- 
 bent caution. The creaking mass of 
 sound had passed the flat-spread coat 
 without stop, and gathered itself away 
 into a slow rumble, and passed on in the 
 blurring dark.
 
 246 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Beyond it, the little, low lights still 
 twinkled and the suburb waited with its 
 trailing cars. 
 
 But when he lifted the coat she had 
 fallen asleep, her face resting on her 
 arm, and he bent to it tenderly, and lis 
 tened.
 
 XXXV 
 
 AND CLANGING CARS 
 
 HE looked up into the darkness and 
 waited. He would let her sleep a min 
 ute. . . . there was little danger now. 
 The city waited, over there, with its 
 low lights; and the friendly night shut 
 them in. Before the morning dawned 
 he should bring her home safe home. 
 ... A kind of simple pride held him, 
 and his heart leaped a little to the stars 
 and sang with them as he squatted in 
 the low grass, keeping guard. 
 
 Presently he leaned and touched her. 
 
 She started with a shiver and sprang 
 up, rubbing her eyes and crying out, "I 
 had a dream " she said softly "a 
 beautiful dream!" Then her eyes 
 caught the stars and blinked to them 
 through dusty sleep and she turned to 
 him with swift cry, "You re here!" she 
 said. "It s not a dream! It s you!" 
 
 247
 
 248 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 And Achilles laughed out. "We re 
 going home," he said, "when you re 
 rested a little." 
 
 "But I m rested now!" she cried. 
 "Come!" She sprang to her feet, and 
 they journeyed again through the 
 night. . . . About them, the plain 
 breathed deep sleeping power and the 
 long road stretched from the west to the 
 east and brought them home. 
 
 Each step, the city lights grew larger, 
 and sparkled more, and spread apart 
 farther, and a low rumble came creeping 
 on the plain jarring with swift jolts 
 the clang of cars and lifting life .... 
 and, in the distance, a line of light 
 ran fire swiftly on the air, and darted, 
 red and green, and trailed again in 
 fire . . . and Achilles s finger pointed 
 to it. That fire will take us home, he 
 said. 
 
 The child s eye followed the flashing 
 cars and she smiled out. The first 
 light of the city s rim touched her face. 
 
 "Just a little farther!" said Achilles. 
 
 "But I am not tired!" said the child,
 
 AND CLANGING CARS 249 
 
 and she ran a little, beside him, on the 
 stone pavement, her small shoes clump 
 ing happily. 
 
 Achilles lifted a swift hand to a wait 
 ing car. The car clanged its gong impa 
 tient. A big conductor reached down 
 his hand to the child. The bell clanged 
 again and they were off "Clang-clang, 
 clear the track! Betty Harris is going 
 home This is the people s carriage 
 Going home! Going home! Clear 
 the track clang-clang ! - -Through the 
 blinking city streets they rode. Safe 
 among the friendly houses, and the 
 shops and the stores, and the people 
 sleeping behind their blinds all the 
 people who had loved the child and 
 scanned the paper for her, every day 
 and asked, "Is Betty Harris found?" 
 . . . Going home! Going home! . . . 
 They would waken in the morning and 
 read the news and shout across the way 
 "She s been found yes a Greek! 
 He brought her home! Thank God. 
 She s found!"
 
 250 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 And little Betty Harris, leaning 
 against the great shoulder beside her, 
 nodded in the car, and dreamed little 
 dreams and looked about her hazily. 
 
 The conductor came and stood in front 
 of them with extended hand, and rang 
 the fares, and cast an indifferent, kindly 
 glance at the Greek and his child trav 
 elling by night. . . . He did not guess 
 the "scoop" that his two little nickels 
 rang out. The child with roughened 
 hair and clumsy, hanging shoes, was 
 nothing to him nor to the policeman 
 that boarded the car at the next corner 
 and ran his eye down its empty length 
 to the Greek, sitting erect with the 
 child sleeping beside him her dark, 
 tousled head against his arm. 
 
 The conductor came again, and 
 touched Achilles on the shoulder and 
 bent to him. "You change here," he 
 said. He was pointing to a car across 
 the square "You take that," he said. 
 "You understand?" He shouted a 
 little because the man was a for 
 eigner and dark but his tone was
 
 AND CLANGING CARS 251 
 
 friendly. And Achilles got to his feet, 
 guiding the sleepy child down the rib- 
 floored car that shook beneath them 
 .... And the conductor and policeman 
 watched the two figures vanish through 
 the door and smiled to each other a 
 friendly smile at foreign folks who 
 travel in strange ways and go among 
 us with eager, intent faces fixed on some 
 shining goal we cannot see . . . with the 
 patience of the centuries leaning down 
 to them, and watching them.
 
 XXXVI 
 
 IN the middle of the square, Achilles 
 stopped a lighted sign had caught his 
 eye. . . . He hurried the child across 
 the blur of tracks to the sign, and 
 opened a door softly. A sleepy ex 
 change-girl looked up and waited while 
 Achilles s dark fingers searched the 
 page and turned to her "Main four- 
 four-seven " she drawled sleepily 
 after him "Go in there number 
 four. 
 
 Achilles, with the child s hand in his, 
 entered the booth and closed the door. 
 Little noises clicked about them queer 
 meanings whispered and waited and 
 moved off the whole night-life of the 
 
 great city stirred in the little 1 cage 
 
 "Go ahead four!" called the girl la 
 zily. And Achillesi lifted the black tube. 
 The child beside him pressed close, her 
 
 252
 
 THE TELEPHONE AGAIN 253 
 
 eyes fixed on the tube. Achilles s words 
 ran swift on the wire, and her eager 
 face held them other words came 
 back -- sharp -- swift. . . . The child 
 heard them crackle, and leap, and break 
 and crackle again in the misty depths 
 and she touched Achilles s arm softly 
 "They must not hurt Mrs. Seabury I" 
 she said. "You tell them not to 
 hurt Mrs. Seabury!" Achilles s hand 
 pressed her shoulder gently. . . "Yes 
 I tell they know. ..." It was a 
 swift aside and his voice had taken up 
 the tale "That woman you not take 
 that woman. . . . You hear? Yes she 
 good woman!" 
 
 "Tell them to look in the cellar!" said 
 Betty. She had pressed closer, on tip 
 toe. "There is a hole there under a 
 barrel and a barrel in the garden. 
 You tell them" 
 
 His eye dropped to her "In cellar? 
 You say that?" 
 
 "Yes yes " Her hands were 
 clasped "They took me there! You 
 tell them!"
 
 254 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 Achilles s eye smiled. "Hallo you 
 look in cellar! . . . What you say? no 
 I don t see it. But you look in cellar- 
 yes ! They make tunnel yes ! He 
 hung up the receiver and took her hand. 
 Now we go home," he said. 
 
 They passed swiftly out, dropping 
 payment into a sleepy, unseeing palm 
 and crossing the square to the car that 
 should carry them home. There were 
 no delays now only swift-running 
 wheels .... a few jolts and stops and 
 they were out again, beneath the stars, 
 hurrying along the great breakwater of 
 
 the lake hurrying home The 
 
 big, red-brown house thrust itself up 
 its gables reaching to thin blackness 
 and, suddenly, as they looked, it was 
 touched lightly, as with a great finger, 
 and the dawn glowed mistily up the 
 walls. 
 
 They crossed swiftly and mounted the 
 steps, between the lions, the child s feet 
 stumbling a little as they went, but 
 Achilles s hand held fast and his 
 touch on the bell summoned hurrying
 
 THE TELEPHONE AGAIN 255 
 
 feet there was a fumbling at 
 
 the chains a swift, cautious creak, and 
 the door swung back "Who is it?" 
 said a voice that peered out. The dawn 
 touched his face grotesquely. 
 
 "It s me!" said the child. "It s 
 Betty Harris, Conner." 
 
 The man s face fell back. Then he 
 darted forward and glared at the child 
 through the mysterious, dawning 
 light on the dark, tender face and the 
 little lip that trembled looking up 
 "My God!" he said. He had darted 
 from them. 
 
 The door was open wide and the two 
 glided in silently, and stood in the empti 
 ness. Achilles led the child to a great 
 divan across the hall and placed her be 
 side him her little feet were crossed 
 in the rough shoes and her hands hung 
 listless. 
 
 Behind a velvet curtain, the butler s 
 voice called frantic words a telephone 
 bell rang sharply and whirred and rang 
 a long fierce call and the butler s voice 
 took it up and flung it back "Yes, sir.
 
 256 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 She s here! Yes, sir that s what I 
 said she s a-settin here, sir on the 
 sofa with the furriner yes, sir!" He 
 put his head around the velvet curtain. 
 * * Will you speak to your father, Miss ? 
 His awe-struck hand held the receiver 
 and he helped the strange, little figure 
 to its seat in front of the phone. 
 She put the tube to her lips. " Hallo, 
 Daddy. Yes, it s Betty. . . . Mr. Achil 
 les brought me, father. . . . Yes yes 
 your little Betty yes and I m all 
 ri-i-ght. ..." The receiver dropped 
 from her fingers. She had buried her 
 face in her arm and was sobbing softly.
 
 xxxvn 
 
 THE BIG BED 
 
 ACHILLES sprang forward. "She s all 
 right, Mr. Harris all right!" His 
 hand dropped to the trembling shoulder 
 and rested there, as his quiet voice re 
 peated the word. He bent forward and 
 lifted the child in his arms and moved 
 away with her. But before he had trav 
 ersed the long hall, the little head had 
 fallen forward on his shoulder and the 
 child slept. Behind the velvet curtain, 
 the voice of Conner wrestled faintly 
 with the telephone and all about them 
 great lights glowed on the walls; 
 they lighted the great staircase that 
 swept mistily up, and the figure of 
 Achilles mounting slowly in the stately, 
 lonely house, the child in his arms. His 
 hand steadied the sleeping head with 
 careful touch, against his shoulder. . . . 
 They were not jolting now, in heavy 
 
 257
 
 258 MR. ACHILLES 
 
 cars, through the traffic streets or wan 
 dering on the plain. . . . Little Betty 
 Harris had come home. 
 
 Above them at the top of the long 
 stairs, a grey figure appeared, and 
 paused a moment and looked down. 
 Then Miss Stone descended swiftly, her 
 hands outstretched they did not touch 
 the sleeping child, but hovered above 
 her with a look half pain half joy. 
 
 Achilles smiled to her "She come 
 home," he whispered. 
 
 She turned with quick breath and they 
 mounted the stairs the child still 
 asleep . . . through the long corridor 
 to the princess s room beyond with 
 its soft lights and great, silken hang 
 ings and canopied bed, open for the 
 night waiting for Betty Harris. 
 
 Achilles bent and laid her down, with 
 lightest touch, and straightened him 
 self "We let her sleep," he said gently, 
 "She very tired." 
 
 They stood looking down at the 
 brown face and the little, tired lip and 
 sleeping lids. . . . Their eyes met, and
 
 THE BIG BED 259 
 
 they smiled. . . . They knew these two, 
 out of all the world they knew what it 
 meant that the child was safe. 
 
 And out in the glowing dawn, the 
 great car thundered home, and Betty 
 Harris s mother looked out with swift 
 eyes, on the lighting way. 
 
 "See, Phil the sun is up!" She 
 reached out her hand 
 
 "Sit still, Louie don t tremble 
 so he said gently. "She is safe 
 now They have brought her home. 
 She s there, you know, asleep." He 
 spoke slowly as if to a child. . . . He 
 was gathering up the morning in his 
 heart this big, harsh, master of men 
 his little girl was safe and a common 
 Greek a man out of the streets ped 
 dling bananas and calling up and 
 down had made his life worth living. 
 His big, tense mind gripped the fact 
 and held it. Something seemed speak 
 ing to him out of the east, over there, 
 past the rushing car. ... A common 
 Greek. ... He had flung his wealth and
 
 260 MB. ACHILLES 
 
 hammered hard but somehow this man 
 had loved her his little girl! 
 
 "Phil ?" she said softly. 
 
 "Yes, dear?" 
 
 "Are we almost home?" 
 
 He looked out. "Half an hour yet 
 sit still, Louie !" He held her hand 
 close. "Sit still!" he said and the 
 miles slipped past. 
 
 "She is there Phil? Yes? They 
 wouldn t lie to me. . . All these 
 weeks!" she said softly. ... "I don t 
 think I could bear it much longer, 
 Phil ... !" The tears were on her 
 cheeks, raining down and he put his 
 rough face against her, adrift in a new 
 world. 
 
 And over the great lake the sun burst 
 out, on a flashing car and the door 
 flung 1 wide to Betty Harris s mother, fly 
 ing with swift, sure feet up the great, 
 stone steps. . . . "This way, ma am 
 she s in here her own room this way, 
 ma am." 
 
 She was kneeling by the great cano 
 pied bed, her head bent very low. The
 
 THE BIG BED 261 
 
 brown face trembled a breath . . . the 
 child put up a hand in her dream, 
 Mother-dear ! she said and dreamed 
 on. 
 
 THE END
 
 A 000182931 6