SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
A Paramount Picture. Seven Keys to Baldpate. 
 
 WILLIAM HALOWELL MAGEE (DOUGLAS MAC LEAN) ARRIVES 
 
 AT MYSTERIOUS BALDPATE. 
 
SEVEN KEYS 
 TO BALDPATE 
 
 BY 
 
 EARL DERR BIGGERS 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 LOVE INSURANCE, ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES 
 
 FROM THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 A PARAMOUNT PICTURE 
 
 STARRING DOUGLAS MAC LEAN 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 
 
 Made io the United butes of America 
 
COPYRIGHT 1913 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ;*? 3 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I "WEEP No MORE, MY LADY" . . . 1 
 
 II ENTER A LOVELORN HABERDASHER , * 25 
 
 III BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES . . , .51 
 
 IV A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT APPEARS 70 
 V THE MAYOR CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE * 89 
 
 VI GHOSTS OF THE SUMMER CROWD . . .111 
 
 VII THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL .... 134 
 
 VIII MR. MAX TELLS A TALE OP SUSPICION . .152 
 
 IX MELODRAMA IN THE Snow 167 
 
 X THE COLD GHAY DAWN 185 
 
 XI A FALSEHOOD UNDER THE PALMS . . . 205 
 
 XII WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 224 
 
 XIII THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN . , . .242 
 
 XIV THE SIGN OF THE OPEN WINDOW . . . 261 
 XV TABLETALJC 279 
 
 XVI A MAN FROM THE DARK 295 
 
 XVII THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 311 
 
 XVIII A RED CARD 333 
 
 XIX EXEUNT OMNES, AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 349 
 
 XX THE ADMIRAL S GAME 366 
 
 XXI THE MAYOR is WELCOMED HOME . ,379 
 
 XXII THE USUAL THING . , 395 
 
SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
SEVEN KEYS TO 
 BALDPATE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 "WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY" 
 
 A r OUNG woman was crying bitterly in the 
 waiting-room of the railway station at 
 Upper Asquewan Falls, New York. 
 
 A beautiful young woman? That is exactly 
 what Billy Magee wanted to know as, closing the 
 waiting-room door behind him, he stood staring 
 just inside. Were the features against which that 
 frail bit of cambric was agonizingly pressed of a 
 pleasing contour? The girl s neatly tailored cor 
 duroy suit and her flippant but charming millinery 
 augured well. Should he step gallantly forward 
 and inquire in sympathetic tones as to the cause of 
 her woe? Should he carry chivalry even to the 
 lengths of Upper Asquewan Falls ? 
 
 I 
 
2 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 No, Mr, Magee decided he would not. The 
 train that had just roared away into the dusk( 
 ,, had not brought him from the region of sky 
 scrapers and derby hats for deeds of knight er 
 rantry up state. Anyhow, the girl s tears were 
 none of his business. A railway station was a 
 natural place for grief a field of many partings, 
 upon whose floor fell often in torrents the tears 
 of those left behind. A friend, mayhap a lover, 
 had been whisked off into the night by the relent 
 less five thirty- four local. Why not a lover? Sure 
 ly about such a dainty trim figure as this courtiers 
 hovered as moths about a flame. Upon a tender 
 intimate sorrow it was not the place of an un 
 known Magee to intrude. He put his hand gently 
 Upon the latch of the door. 
 
 And yet dim and heartless and cold was the 
 interior of that waiting-room. No place, surely, 
 for a gentleman to leave a lady sorrowful, par 
 ticularly when the lady was so alluring. Oh, be 
 yond question, she was most alluring. Mr. Magee 
 stepped softly to the ticket window and made 
 low-voiced inquiry of the man inside. 
 
 she crying about ?" he asked 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 3 
 
 A thin sallow face, on the forehead of which 
 a mop of ginger-colored hair lay listlessly, was 
 pressed against the bars. 
 
 "Thanks," said the ticket agent. "I get asked 
 the same old questions so often, one like yours 
 sort of breaks the monotony. Sorry I can t help 
 you. She s a woman, and the Lord only knows 
 why women cry. And sometimes I reckon even 
 He must be a little puzzled. Now, my wife " 
 
 "I think I ll ask her," confided Mr. Magee in 
 a hoarse whisper. 
 
 "Oh, I wouldn t," advised the man behind the 
 bars. "It s best to let em alone. They stop quick 
 er if they ain t noticed." 
 
 "But she s in trouble," argued Billy Magee. 
 
 "And so ll you be, most likely," responded the 
 cynic, "if you interfere. No, siree! Take my 
 advice. Shoot old Asquewan s rapids in a barrel 
 if you want to, but keep away from crying 
 
 women." 
 
 The heedless Billy Magee, however, was al 
 ready moving across the unscrubbed floor with 
 chivalrous intention. 
 
 The girl s trim shoulders no longer heaved so 
 
4 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 unhappily. Mr. Magee, approaching, thought 
 himself again in the college yard at dusk, with the 
 great elms sighing overhead, and the fresh young 
 voices of the glee club ringing out from the steps 
 of a century-old building. What were the words 
 they sang so many times ? 
 
 "Weep no more, my lady, 
 Oh ! weep no more to-day." 
 
 He regretted that he could not make use of 
 them. They had always seemed to him so sad and 
 beautiful. But troubadours, he knew, went out of 
 fashion long before railway stations came in. So 
 his remark to the young woman was not at all me 
 lodious : 
 
 "Can I do anything?" 
 
 A portion of the handkerchief was removed, 
 and an eye which, Mr. Magee noted, was of an 
 admirable blue, peeped out at him. To the gaze 
 of even a solitary eye, Mr. Magee s aspect was 
 decidedly pleasing. Young Williams, who posed at 
 the club as a wit, had once said that Billy Magee 
 came as near to being a magazine artist s idea of 
 the proper hero of a story as any man could, and 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 5 
 
 at the same time retain the respect and affection 
 of his fellows. Mr. Magee thought he read ap 
 proval in the lone eye of blue. When the lady 
 spoke, however, he hastily revised his opinion. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "you can do something. You 
 can go away far, far away." 
 
 Mr. Magee stiffened. Thus chivalry fared in 
 Upper Asquewan Falls in the year 191 1. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he remarked. "You 
 seemed to be in trouble, and I thought I might 
 possibly be pf some assistance." 
 
 The girl removed the entire handkerchief. The 
 other eye proved to be the same admirable blue 
 a blue half-way between the shade of her cordu 
 roy suit and that of the jacky s costume in the 
 "See the WorldJoin the Navy" poster that 
 served as background to her woe. 
 
 "I don t mean to be rude," she explained more 
 gently, "but I m crying, you see, and a girl 
 i simply can t look attractive when she cries." 
 
 "If I had only been regularly introduced to 
 you, and all that," responded Mr. Magee, "I could 
 make a very flattering reply." And a true one, he 
 added to himself. For even in the faint flicker- 
 
6 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 ing light of the station he found ample reason for 
 rejoicing that the bit of cambric was no longer 
 agonizingly pressed. As yet he had scarcely 
 looked away from her eyes, but he was dimly 
 aware that up above wisps of golden hair peeped 
 impudently from beneath a saucy black hat. He 
 would look at those wisps shortly, he told him 
 self. As soon as he could look away frpm the 
 eyes which was not just yet. 
 
 "My grief," said the girl, "is utterly silly and 
 womanish. I think it would be best to leave me 
 alone with it. Thank you for your interest. And 
 would you mind asking the gentleman who is 
 pressing his face so feverishly against the bars to 
 kindly close his window?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied Mr. Magee. He turned 
 away. As he did so he collided with a rather ex 
 cessive lady. She gave the impression of solidity 
 and bulk ; her mouth was hard and knowing. Mr. 
 ^fagee felt that she wanted to vote, and that she 
 would say as much from time to time. The lady 
 had a glittering eye ; she put it to its time-honored 
 use and fixed Mr. Magee with it. 
 
 "I was crying, mamma," the girl explained, 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 7 
 
 and this gentleman inquired if he cpuld be of any; 
 
 service." 
 
 Mamma! Mr. Magee wanted to add his tears 
 to those of the girl. This frail and lovely damsel 
 in distress owning as her maternal parent a heavy 
 unnecessary -person ! The older woman also had 
 yellow hair, but it was the sort that suggests the 
 white enamel pallor of a drug store, with the soda- 
 fountain fizzing and the bottles of perfume ranged 
 in an odorous row. Mamma! Thus rolled the 
 world along. 
 
 "Well, they ain t no use gettin* all worked up 
 for nothing," advised the unpleasant parent. Mr. 
 Magee was surprised that in her tone there was no 
 hostility to him thus belying her looks. "Mebbe 
 the gentleman can direct us to a good hotel," she 
 added, with a rather stagy smile. 
 
 "I m a stranger here, too," Mr. Magee replied.; 
 "I ll interview the man over there in the cage." 
 
 The gentleman referred to was not cheerful in 
 his replies. There was, he said, Baldpate Inn, 
 
 "Oh, yes, Baldpate Inn," repeated Billy Magee 
 with interest. 
 
 "Yes, that s a pretty swell place," said the ticket 
 
8 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 agent. "But it ain t open now. It s a summer re 
 sort There ain t no place open now but the Com 
 mercial House. And I wouldn t recommend no 
 human being there especially no lady who was 
 sad before she ever saw it." 
 
 Mr. Magee explained to the incongruous family 
 pair waiting on the bench. 
 
 "There s only one hotel," he said, "and I m 
 told it s not exactly the place for any one whose 
 outlook on life is not rosy at the moment. I m 
 sorry." 
 
 "It will do very well," answered the girl, "what 
 ever it is." She smiled at Billy Magee. "My out 
 look on life in Upper Asquewan Falls," she said, 
 "grows rosier every minute. We must find a 
 cab." 
 
 She began to gather up her traveling-bags, and 
 Mr. Magee hastened to assist. The three went 
 out on the station platform, dpon which lay a thin 
 carpet of snowflakes. There the older woman, in 
 a harsh rasping voice, found fault with Upper 
 Asquewan Falls, its geography, its public spirit, 
 its brand of weather. A dejected cab at the end 
 of the platform stood mourning its lonely lot. In 
 
I 
 
 WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 9 
 
 it Mr. Magee placed the large lady and the bags. 
 Then, while the driver climbed to his seat, he 
 spoke into the invisible ear of the girl. 
 
 "You haven t told me why you cried, * he re 
 minded her. 
 
 She waved her hand toward the wayside village, 
 the lamps of which shone sorrowfully through the 
 snow. 
 
 "Upper Asquewan Falls," she said, "isn t it 
 reason enough?" 
 
 Billy Magee looked ; saw a row of gloomy build 
 ings that seemed to list as the wind blew, a blurred 
 sign "Liquors and Cigars," a street that staggered 
 away into the dark like a man who had lingered 
 too long at the emporium back of the sign. 
 
 "Are you doomed to stay here long?" he asked. 
 
 "Come on, Mary," cried a deep voice from the 
 cab. "Get in and shut the door. I m freezing." 
 
 "It all depends," said the girl. "Thank you for 
 being so kind and good night." 
 
 The door closed with a muffled bang, the cab 
 creaked wearily away, and Mr. Magee turned back 
 to the dim waiting-room. 
 
 "Well, what was she crying for?" inquired the 
 
io SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 ticket agent, when Mr. Magee stood again at his 
 cell window. 
 
 "She didn t think much of your town," re-: 
 sponded Magee; "she intimated that it made her 
 heavy of heart" 
 
 "H m it ain t much of a place," admitted the 
 man, "though it ain t the general rule with visitors 
 to burst into tears at sight of it. Yes, Upper As- 
 quewan is slow, and no mistake. It gets on my 
 nerves sometimes. Nothing to do but work, work, 
 work, and then lay down and wait for to-morrow. 
 I used to think maybe some day they d transfer 
 me down to Hooperstown there s moving pic 
 tures and such goings-on down there. But the 
 railroad never notices you unless you go wrong. 
 Yes, sir, sometimes I want to clear out of this 
 town myself." 
 
 "A natural wanderlust," sympathized Mr. Ma- 
 jjee. "You said something just now about Bald- 
 pate Inn " 
 
 "Yes, it s a little more lively in summer, when 
 that s open," answered the agent; "we get a lot of 
 complaints about trunks not coming, from pretty 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 11 
 
 swell people, too. It sort of cheers things." His 
 eye roamed with interest over Mr. Magee s New 
 York attire. "But Baldpate Inn is shut up tight 
 now. This is nothing but an annex to a grave 
 yard in winter. You wasn t thinking of stopping 
 off here, was you?" 
 
 "Well I want to see a man named Elijah 
 Quimby," Mr. Magee replied. "Do you know 
 him?" 
 
 "Of course," said the yearner for pastures new, 
 "he s caretaker of the inn. His house is about a 
 mile out, on the old Miller Road that leads up 
 Baldpate. Come outside and I ll tell you how ta 
 get there." 
 
 The two men went out into the whirling snow, 
 and the agent waved a hand indefinitely up at the 
 night. 
 
 "If it was clear," he said, "you could see Bald 
 pate Mountain, over yonder, looking down on the 
 Falls, sort of keeping an eye on us to make sure 
 we don t get reckless. And half-way up you d see 
 Baldpate Inn, black and peaceful and winter-y. 
 Just follow this street to the third corner, and 
 
12 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 turn to your left. Elijah lives in a little house 
 back among the trees a mile out there s a gate 
 you ll sure hear creaking on a night like this." 
 
 Billy Magee thanked him, and gathering up his 
 two bags, walked up "Main Street." A dreary 
 forbidding building at the first corner bore the 
 sign "Commercial House". Under the white gas 
 light in the ofBce window three born pessimists 
 slouched low in hotel chairs, gazing sourly out at 
 the storm. 
 
 "Weep no more, my lady, 
 Oh ! weep no more to-day," > 
 
 hummed Mr. Magee cynically under his breath, 
 and glanced up at the solitary up-stairs window 
 that gleamed yellow in the night. 
 
 At a corner on which stood a little shop that ad 
 vertised "Groceries and Provisions" he paused. 
 
 "Let me see," he pondered. "The lights will be 
 turned off, of course. Candles. And a little some 
 thing for the inner man, in case it s the closed sea 
 son for cooks." 
 
 He went inside, where a weary old woman 
 served him. 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 13 
 
 "What sort of candles ?" she inquired, with the 
 air of one who had an infinite variety in stock. 
 Mr. Magee remembered that Christmas was near. 
 
 "For a Christmas tree," he explained. He asked 
 for two hundred. 
 
 "I ve only got forty," the woman said. "What s 
 this tree for the Orphans Home?" 
 
 With the added burden of a package containing 
 his purchases in the tiny store, Mr. Magee 
 emerged and continued his journey through the 
 stinging snow. Upper Asquewan Falls on its way 
 home for supper flitted past him in the silvery 
 darkness. He saw in the lighted windows of 
 many of the houses the green wreath of Christ 
 mas cheer. Finally the houses became infrequent, 
 and he struck put on an uneven road that wound 
 upward. Once he heard a dog s faint bark. Then 
 a carriage lurched by him, and a strong voice 
 cursed the roughness of the road. Mr. Magee 
 half smiled to himself as he strode on. 
 
 "Don Quixote, my boy," he muttered, "I know 
 how you felt when you moved on the windmills." 
 
 It was not the whir of windmills but the creak 
 of a gate in the storm that brought Mr. Magee at 
 
14 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 last to a stop. He walked gladly up the path to 
 Elijah Quimby s door. 
 
 In answer to Billy Magee s gay knock, a man of 
 about sixty years appeared. Evidently he had just 
 finished supper ; at the moment he was engaged in 
 lighting his pipe. He admitted Mr. Magee into 
 the intimacy of the kitchen, and took a number of 
 calm judicious puffs on the pipe before speaking 
 to his visitor. In that interval the visitor cheerily 
 seized his hand, oblivious of the warm burnt 
 match that was in it. The match fell to the floor, 
 whereupon the older man cast an anxious glance 
 at a gray-haired woman who stood beside the 
 kitchen stove. 
 
 "My name s Magee," blithely explained that 
 gentleman, dragging in his bags. "And you re 
 Elijah Quimby, of course. How are you ? Glad 
 to see you." His air was that of one who had 
 known this Quimby intimately, in many odd cor 
 ners of the world. 
 
 The older man did not reply, but regarded Mr. 
 Magee wonderingly through white puffs of smoke. 
 His face was kindly, gentle, ineffectual; he 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 15 
 
 seemed to lack the final "punch" that send men 
 over the line to success; this was evident in the 
 way his necktie hung, the way his thin hands flut 
 tered. 
 
 "Yes," he admitted at last. "Yes, I m Quimby." 
 
 Mr. Magee threw back his coat, and sprayed 
 with snow Mrs. Quimby s immaculate floor. 
 
 "I m Magee," he elucidated again, "William 
 Hallowell Magee, the man Hal Bentley wrote to 
 you about. You got his letter, didn t you ?" 
 
 Mr. Quimby removed his pipe and forgot to 
 close the aperture as he stared in amazement. 
 
 "Good lord!" he cried, "you don t mean 
 you ve really come." 
 
 "What better proof could you ask," said Mr. 
 Magee flippantly, "than my presence here ?" 
 
 "Why," stammered Mr. Quimby, "we we 
 thought it was all a joke." 
 
 "Hal Bentley has his humorous moments," 
 . agreed Mr. Magee, "but it isn t his habit to fling 
 his jests into Upper Asquewan Falls." 
 
 "And and you re really going to " Mr. 
 Quimby could get no further. 
 
16 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Magee brightly, slipping into a 
 rocking-chair. "Yes, I m going to spend the next 
 few months at Baldpate Inn." 
 
 Mrs. Quimby, who seemed to have settled into 
 a stout little mound of a woman through standing 
 too long in the warm presence of her stove, came 
 forward and inspected Mr. Magee. 
 
 "Of all things," she murmured. 
 
 "It s closed," expostulated Mr. Quimby; "the 
 inn is closed, young fellow." 
 
 "I know it s closed," smiled Magee. "That s 
 the very reason I m going to honor it with my 
 presence. I m sorry to take you out on a night 
 like this, but I ll have to ask you to lead me up to 
 Baldpate. I believe those were Hal Bentley s in 
 structions in the letter." 
 
 Mr. Quimby towered above Mr. Magee, a shirt- 
 sleeved statue of honest American manhood. He 
 scowled. 
 
 "Excuse a plain question, young man," he said, 
 "but what are you hiding from?" 
 
 Mrs. Quimby, in the neighborhood of the stove, 
 paused to hear the reply. Billy Magee laughed. 
 
 "I m not hiding," he said. "Didn t Bentley ex- 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 17 
 
 plain? Well, I ll try to, though I m not sure you ll 
 understand. Sit down, Mr. Quimby. You are 
 not, I take it, the sort of man to follow closely the 
 light and frivolous literature of the day/ 
 
 "What s that?" inquired Mr. Quimby. 
 
 "You don t read," continued Mr. Magee, "the 
 sort of novels that are sold by the pound in the de 
 partment stores. Now, if you had a daughter a 
 fluffy daughter inseparable from a hammock in 
 the summer she could help me explain. You see 
 I write those novels. Wild thrilling tales for 
 the tired business man s tired wife shots in the 
 night, chases after fortunes, Cupid busy with his 
 arrows all over the place! It s good fun, and I 
 like to do it. There s money in it." 
 
 "Is there ?" asked Mr. Quimby with a show of 
 interest. 
 
 "Considerable," replied Mr. Magee. "But now 
 and then I get a longing to do something that will 
 make the critics sit up- the real thing, you know. 
 The other day I picked up a newspaper and found 
 my latest brain-child advertised as the best fall 
 novel Magee ever wrote . It got on my nerves 
 I felt like a literary dressmaker, and I could see 
 
i8 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 my public laying down my fall novel and sighing 
 for my early spring styles in fiction. I remem 
 bered that once upon a time a critic advised me to 
 go away for ten years to some quiet spot, and 
 think. I decided to do it. Baldpate Inn is the 
 quiet spot." 
 
 You don t mean," gasped Mr. Quimby, "that 
 you re going to stay there ten years ?" 
 
 "Bless you, no," said Mr. Magee. "Critics ex 
 aggerate. Two months will do. They say I am a 
 cheap melodramatic ranter. They say I don t go 
 deep. They say my thinking process is a scream. 
 I m afraid they re right. Now, I m going to go 
 up to Baldpate Inn, and think. I m going to get 
 away from melodrama. I m going to do a novel 
 so fine and literary that Henry Cabot Lodge will 
 come to me with tears in his eyes and ask me to 
 join his bunch of self-made Immortals. I m go 
 ing to do all this up there at the inn sitting on the 
 mountain and looking down on this little old 
 
 world as Jove looked down from Olympus." 
 
 i 
 
 "I don t know who you mean," objected Mr. 
 Quimby. 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 19 
 
 "He was a god the god of the fruit-stand 
 men," explained Magee. "Picture me, if you can, 
 depressed by the overwhelming success of my 
 Jatest brain-child. Picture me meeting Hal Bent- 
 ley in a Forty- fourth Street club and asking him 
 for the location of the lonesomest spot on earth. 
 Hal thought a minute. Tve got it , he said, the 
 lonesomest spot that s happened to date is a sum 
 mer resort in mid-winter. It makes Crusoe s island 
 look like Coney on a warm Sunday afternoon in 
 comparison. The talk flowed on, along with other 
 things. Hal told me his father owned Baldpate 
 Inn, and that you were an old friend of his who 
 would be happy for the entire winter over the 
 chance to serve him. He happened to have a key 
 to the place the key to the big front door, I 
 guess, from the weight of it and he gave it to 
 me. He also wrote you to look after me. So 
 here I am." 
 
 Mr. Quimby ran his fingers through his white 
 hair. 
 
 "Here I am," repeated Billy Magee, "fleeing 
 from the great glitter known as Broadway to do a 
 
20 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 little rational thinking in the solitudes. It s get 
 ting late, and I suggest that we start for Baldpate 
 Inn at once." 
 
 "This ain t exactly regular," Mr. Quimby pro 
 tested. "No, it ain t what you might call a f re- 
 quent occurrence. I m glad to do anything I can 
 for young Mr. Bentley, but I can t help wondering 
 what his father will say. And there s a lot of 
 things you haven t took into consideration." 
 
 "There certainly is, young man," remarked 
 Mrs. Quimby, bustling forward. "How are you 
 going to keep warm in that big barn of a place?" 
 
 "The suites on the second floor," said Mr. Ma- 
 gee, "are, I hear, equipped with fireplaces. Mr. 
 Quimby will keep me supplied with fuel from the 
 forest primeval, for which service he will receive 
 twenty dollars a week." 
 
 "And light?" asked Mrs. Quimby. 
 
 "For the present, candles. I have forty in that 
 package. Later, perhaps you can find me an oil 
 lamp. Oh, everything will be provided for." 
 
 "Well," remarked Mr. Quimby, looking in a 
 dazed fashion at his wife, "I reckon I ll have to 
 talk it over with ma." 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 21 
 
 The two retired to the next room, and Mr. Ma- 
 gee fixed his eyes on a "God Bless Our Home" 
 motto while he awaited their return. Presently 
 they reappeared. 
 
 "Was you thinking of eating?" inquired Mrs. 
 Quimby sarcastically, "while you stayed up 
 there?" 
 
 "I certainly was," smiled Mr. Magee. "For the 
 most part I will prepare my own meals from cans 
 and er jars and such pagan sources. But 
 now and then you, Mrs. Quimby, are going to 
 send me something cooked as no other woman in 
 the county can cook it. I can see it in your eyes. 
 In my poor way I shall try to repay you." 
 
 He continued to smile into Mrs. Quimby s 
 broad cheerful face. Mr. Magee had the type of 
 smile that moves men to part with ten until Satur 
 day, and women to close their eyes and dream of 
 Sir Launcelot. Mrs. Quimby could not long re 
 sist. She smiled back. Whereupon Billy Magee 
 sprang to his feet. 
 
 "It s all fixed," he cried. "We ll get on splen 
 didly. And now for Baldpate Inn." 
 
 "Not just yet," said Mrs. Quimby. "I ain t one 
 
22 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 to let anybody go up to Baldpate Inn unfed. I 
 spose we re sort o responsible for you, while 
 you re up here. You just set right down and I ll 
 have your supper hot and smoking on the table in 
 no time." 
 
 Mr. Magee -entered into no dispute on this point, 
 and for half an hour he was the pleased recipient 
 of advice, philosophy, and food. When he had 
 assured Mrs. Quimby that he had eaten enough to 
 last him the entire two months he intended spend 
 ing at the inn, Mr. Quimby came in, attired in a 
 huge "before the war" ulster, and carrying a 
 lighted lantern. 
 
 "So you re going to sit up there and write 
 things," he commented. "Well, I reckon you ll 
 be left to yourself, all right." 
 
 "I hope so," responded Mr. Magee. "I want to 
 be so lonesome I ll sob myself to sleep every night. 
 It s the only road to immortality. Good-by, Mrs. 
 Quimby. In my fortress on the mountain I shall 
 expect an occasional culinary message from you." 
 He took her plump hand; this motherly little 
 woman seemed the last link binding him to the 
 world of reality. 
 
WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY 23 
 
 "Good-by," smiled Mrs. Quimby. "Be careful 
 of matches." 
 
 Mr. Quimby led the way with the lantern, and 
 presently they stepped out upon the road. The 
 storm had ceased, but it was still very dark. Far 
 below, in the valley, twinkled the lights of Upper 
 Asquewan Falls. 
 
 "By the way, Quimby," remarked Mr. Magee, 
 "is there a girl in your town who has blue eyes, 
 light hair, and the general air of a queen out 
 shopping?" 
 
 "Light hair," repeated Quimby. "There s Sally 
 Perry. She teaches in the Methodist Sunday- 
 school." 
 
 "No," said Mr. Magee. "My description was 
 poor, I m afraid. This one I refer to, when she 
 weeps, gives the general effect of mist on the sea 
 at dawn. The Methodists do not monopolize her." 
 
 "I read books, and I read newspapers," said 
 Mr. Quimby, "but a lot of your talk I don t under 
 stand." 
 
 "The critics," replied Billy Magee, "could ex 
 plain. My stuff is only for low-brows. Lead on, 
 Mr. Quimby." 
 
24 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Mr. Quimby stood for a moment in dazed 
 silence. Then he turned, and the yellow of his 
 lantern fell on the dazzling snow ahead. Together 
 the two climbed Baldpate Mountain. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 ENTER A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 
 
 BALDPATE INN did not stand tiptoe on the 
 misty mountain-top. Instead it clung with 
 grim determination to the side of Baldpate, about 
 half-way up, much as a city man clings to the run 
 ning board of an open street-car. This was the 
 comparison Mr. Magee made, and even as he 
 made it he knew that atmospheric conditions ren 
 dered it questionable. For an open street-car sug 
 gests summer and the ball park ; Baldpate Inn, as 
 it shouldered darkly into Mr. Magee s ken, sug 
 gested winter at its most wintry. 
 
 About the great black shape that was the inn, 
 like arms, stretched broad verandas. Mr. Magee 
 remarked upon them to his companion. 
 
 "Those porches and balconies and things/ he 
 said, "will come in handy in cooling the fevered 
 brow of genius." 
 
 "There ain t much fever in this locality," the 
 
26 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 practical Quimby assured him, "especially not in 
 winter." 
 
 Silenced, Mr. Magee followed the lantern of 
 Quimby over the snow to the broad steps, and up 
 to the great front door. There Magee produced 
 from beneath his coat an impressive key. Mr. 
 Quimby made as though to assist, but was waved 
 aside. 
 
 "This is a ceremony," Mr. Magee told him, 
 "some day Sunday newspaper stories will be writ 
 ten about it. Baldpate Inn opening its doors to 
 the great American novel !" 
 
 He placed the key in the lock, turned it, and the 
 door swung open. The coldest blast of air Mr. 
 Magee had even encountered swept out from the 
 dark interior. He shuddered, and wrapped his 
 coat closer. He seemed to see the white trail from 
 Dawson City, the sled dogs straggling on with the 
 dwindling provisions, the fat Eskimo guide beg 
 ging for gum-drops by his side. 
 
 "Whew," he cried, "we ve discovered another 
 Pole!" 
 
 "It s stale air," remarked Quimby. 
 
 "You mean the Polar atmosphere," replied Ma- 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 27 
 
 gee. "Yes, it is pretty stale. Jack London and 
 Doctor Cook have worked it to death." 
 
 "I mean/ said Quimby, "this air has been in 
 here alone too long. It s as stale as last week s 
 newspaper. We couldn t heat it with a million 
 fires. We ll have to let in some warm air from 
 outside first." 
 
 "Warm air humph," remarked Mr. Magee. 
 "Well, live and learn." 
 
 The two stood together in a great bare room. 
 The rugs had been removed, and such furniture as 
 remained had huddled together, as if for warmth, 
 in the center of the floor. When they stepped for 
 ward, the sound of their shoes on the hard wood 
 seemed the boom that should wake the dead. 
 
 "This is the hotel office," explained Mr. 
 Quimby. 
 
 At the left of the door was the clerk s desk ; be 
 hind it loomed a great safe, and a series of pigeon 
 holes for the mail of the guests. Opposite the 
 front door a wide stairway led to a landing half 
 way up, where the stairs were divorced and went 
 to the right and left in search of the floor above. 
 Mr. Magee surveyed the stairway critically. 
 
28 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "A great place," he remarked, "to show off the 
 talents of your dressmaker, eh, Quimby? Can t 
 you just see the stunning gowns coming down that 
 stair in state, and the young men below here agi 
 tated in their bosoms ?" 
 
 "No, I can t/ said Mr. Quimby frankly. 
 
 "I can t either, to tell the truth," laughed Billy 
 Magee. He turned up his collar. "It s like pic 
 turing a summer girl sitting on an iceberg and 
 swinging her open-work hosiery over the edge. I 
 don t suppose it s necessary to register. I ll go 
 right up and select my apartments." 
 
 It was upon a suite of rooms that bore the num 
 ber seven pn their door that Mr. Magee s choice 
 fell. A large parlor with a fireplace that a few 
 blazing logs would cheer, a bedroom whose bed 
 was destitute of all save mattress and springs, and 
 a bathroom, comprised his kingdom. Here, too, all 
 the furniture was piled in the center of the rooms. 
 After Quimby had opened the windows, he began 
 straightening the furniture about. 
 
 Mr. Magee inspected his apartment. The win 
 dows were all of the low French variety, and op 
 ened out upon a broad snow-covered balcony 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 29 
 
 which was in reality the roof of the first floor 
 veranda. On this balcony Magee stood a mo 
 ment, watching the trees on Baldpate wave their 
 black arms in the wind, and the lights of Upper 
 Asquewan Falls wink knowingly up at him. Then! 
 he came inside, and his investigations brought him 
 presently to the tub in the bathroom. 
 
 "Fine," he cried, "a cold plunge in the morning 
 before the daily struggle for immortality begins." 
 
 He turned the spigot. Nothing happened. 
 
 "I reckon," drawled Mr. Quimby from the bed 
 room, "you ll carry your cold plunge up from 
 the well back of the inn before you plunge into it. 
 The water s turned off. We can t take chances 
 with busted pipes." 
 
 "Of course," replied Magee less blithely. His 
 ardor was somewhat dampened a paradox by 
 the failure of the spigot to gush forth a response. 
 "There s nothing I d enjoy more than carrying 
 eight pails of water up-stairs every morning to get 
 up an appetite for what ? Oh, well, the Lord will 
 provide. If we propose to heat up the great 
 American outdoors, Quimby, I think it s time we 
 had a fire." 
 
30 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Mr. Quimby went out without comment, and 
 left Magee to light his first candle in the dark. 
 For a time he occupied himself with lighting a few 
 of the forty, and distributing them about the 
 room. Soon Quimby came back with kindling 
 and logs, and subsequently a noisy fire roared in 
 the grate. Again Quimby retired, and returned 
 with a generous armful of bedding, which he 
 threw upon the brass bed in the inner room. Then 
 he slowly closed and locked the windows, after 
 which he came and looked down with good- 
 natured contempt at Mr. Magee, who sat in a 
 chair before the fire. 
 
 "I wouldn t wander round none," he advised. 
 "You might fall down something or something. 
 I been living in these parts, off and on, for sixty 
 years and more, and nothing like this ever came 
 tinder my observation before. Howsomever, I 
 guess it s all right if Mr. Bentley says so. I ll 
 come up in the morning and see you down to the 
 train." 
 
 "What train ?" inquired Mr. Magee. 
 
 "Your train back to New York City," replied 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 31 
 
 Mr. Quimby. "Don t try to start back in the 
 night. There ain t no train till morning." 
 
 "Ah, Quimby," laughed Mr. Magee, "you taunt 
 me. You think I won t stick it out. But I ll show 
 you. I tell you, I m hungry for solitude." 
 
 "That s all right," Mr. Quimby responded,* 
 "you can t make three square meals a day off soli 
 tude." 
 
 "I m desperate," said Magee. "Henry Cabot 
 Lodge must come to me, I say, with tears in his 
 eyes. Ever see the senator that way? No? It 
 isn t going to be an easy job. I must put it over. 
 I must go deep into the hearts of men, up here, 
 and write what I find. No more shots in the night. 
 Just the adventure of soul and soul. Do you see ? 
 By the way, here s twenty dollars, your first 
 week s pay as caretaker of a New Yprk Quixote." 
 
 "What s that?" asked Quimby. 
 
 ^Quixote," explained Mr. Magee, "was a Span- 
 ish lad who was a little confused in his mind, and 
 went about the country putting up at summer re 
 sorts in mid-winter." 
 
 "I d expect it of a Spaniard," Quimby said. 
 "Be careful of that fire. I ll be up in the morn- 
 
32 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 ing." He stowed away the bill Mr. Magee had 
 given him. "I guess nothing will interfere with 
 your lonesomeness. Leastways, I hope it won t. 
 .Goodnight." 
 
 Mr. Magee bade the man good night, and lis 
 tened to the thump of his boots, and the closing of 
 the great front door. From his windows he 
 watched the caretaker move down the road with 
 out looking back, to disappear at last in the white 
 night. 
 
 Throwing off his great coat, Mr. Magee noisily 
 attacked the fire. The blaze flared red on his 
 strong humorous mouth, in his smiling eyes. 
 Next, in the flickering half-light of suite seven, he 
 distributed the contents of his traveling-bags 
 about. On the table he placed a number of new 
 magazines and a few books. 
 
 Then Mr. Magee sat down in the big leather 
 (Chair before the fire, and caught his breath. Here 
 fyie was at last. The wild plan he and Hal Bentley 
 had cooked up in that Forty-fourth Street club 
 had actually come to be. "Seclusion," Magee had 
 cried. "Bermuda," Bentley had suggested. "A 
 mixture of sea, hotel clerks, and honeymooners !" 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 33 
 
 the seeker for solitude had sneered. "Some win 
 ter place down South," from Bentley. "And a 
 flirtation lurking in every corner !" from Magee. 
 "A country town where you don t know any one." 
 "The easiest place in the world to get acquainted. 
 I must be alone, man ! Alone !" "Baldpate Inn/ 
 Bentley had cried in his idiom. "Why, Billy* 
 Baldpate Inn at Christmas it must be old John 
 H. Seclusion himself." 
 
 Yes, here he was. And here was the solitude 
 he had come to find. Mr. Magee looked nervously 
 about, and the smile died out of his gray eyes. 
 For the first time misgivings smote him. Might 
 one not have too much of a good thing ? A silence 
 like that of the tomb had descended. He recalled 
 stories of men who went mad from loneliness. 
 What place lonelier than this ? The wind howled 
 along the balcony. It rattled the windows. Out 
 side his door lay a great black cave in summer 
 gay with men and maids now like Crusoe s is 
 land before the old man landed. 
 * 
 
 "Alone, alone, all, all alone," quoted Mr. Ma 
 gee. "If I can t think here it will be because I m 
 not equipped with the apparatus. I will. I ll show 
 
34 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 the gloomy old critics ! I wonder what s doing in 
 New York?" 
 
 New York! Mr. Magee looked at his watch. 
 Eight o clock. The great street was ablaze. The 
 crowds were parading from the restaurants to the 
 theaters. The electric signs were pasting lurid 
 legends on a long suffering sky; the taxis were 
 spraying throats with gasoline; the traffic cop at 
 Broadway and Forty-second Street was madly 
 earning his pay. Mr. Magee got up and walked 
 the floor. New York! 
 
 Probably the telephone in his rooms was jang 
 ling, vainly calling forth to sport with Amaryllis 
 in the shade of the rubber trees Billy Magee 
 Billy Magee who sat alone in the silence on Bald- 
 pate Mountain. Few knew of his departure. This 
 was the night of that stupid attempt at theatricals 
 at the Plaza ; stupid in itself but gay, almost giddy, 
 since Helen Faulkner was to be there. This was 
 the night of the dinner to Carey at the club. This 
 was the night of many diverting things. 
 
 Mr. Magee picked up a magazine. He won 
 dered how they read, in the old days, by candle 
 light. He wondered if they would have found his 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 35 
 
 *wn stories worth the strain on the eyes. And he 
 also wondered if absolute solitude was quite the 
 thing necessary to the composition of the novel 
 that should forever silence those who sneered at 
 his ability. 
 
 Absolute solitude ! Only the crackle of the fire, 
 the roar of the wind, and the ticking of his watch 
 bore him company. He strode to the window and 
 looked down at the few dim lights that proclaimed 
 the existence of Upper Asquewan Falls. Some 
 where, down there, was the Commercial House. 
 Somewhere the girl who had wept so bitterly in 
 that gloomy little waiting-room. She was only 
 three miles away, and the thought cheered Mr. 
 Magee. After all, he was not on a desert island. 
 
 And yet he was alone, intensely, almost pain 
 fully, alone. Alone in a vast moaning house that 
 must be his only home until he could go back to 
 the gay city with his masterpiece. What a mas 
 terpiece! As though with a surgeon s knife it 
 would lay bare the hearts of men. No tricks of 
 plot, no 
 
 Mr. Magee paused. For sharply in the silence 
 the bell of his room telephone rang out. 
 
36 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 He stood for a moment gazing in wonder, his 
 heart beating swiftly, his eyes upon the instru 
 ment on the wall. It was a house phone ; he knew 
 that it could only be rung from the switchboard 
 in the hall below. "I m going mad already/ he 
 remarked, and took down the receiver. 
 
 A blur of talk, an electric muttering, a click, 
 and all was still. 
 
 Mr. Magee opened the door and stepped out 
 into the shadows. He heard a voice below. 
 Noiselessly he crept to the landing, and gazed 
 down into the office. A young man sat at the tele 
 phone switchboard; Mr. Magee could see in the 
 dim light of a solitary candle that he was a person 
 of rather hilarious raiment. The candle stood on 
 the top of the safe, and the door of the latter 
 swung open. Sinking down on the steps in the 
 dark, Mr. Magee waited. 
 
 "Hello," the young man was saying, "how do 
 you work this thing, anyhow? I ve tried every 
 peg but the right one. Hello hello ! I want long 
 distance Reuton. 2876 West Mr. Andy Rut- 
 ter. Will you get him for me, sister?" 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 37 
 
 Another wait a long one ensued. The can 
 dle sputtered. The young man fidgeted in his 
 chair. At last he spoke again : 
 
 "Hello! Andy? Is that you, Andy? What s 
 the good word? As quiet as the tomb of Napo 
 leon. Shall I close up shop ? Sure. What next? 
 Oh, see here, Andy, I d die up here. Did you ever 
 hit a place like this in winter? I can t I oh, 
 well, if he says so. Yes. I could do that. But 
 no longer. I couldn t stand it long. Tell him that. 
 Tell him everything s O. K. Yes. All right. 
 Well, good night, Andy." 
 
 He turned away from the switchboard, and as 
 he did so Mr. Magee walked calmly down the 
 stairs toward him. With a cry the young man 
 ran to the safe, threw a package inside, and swung 
 shut the door. He turned the knob of the safe 
 several times ; then he faced Mr. Magee. The lat 
 ter saw something glitter in his hand. 
 
 "Good evening," remarked Mr. Magee pleas 
 antly. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" cried the youth 
 wildly. 
 
 "I live here," Mr. Magee assured him. "Won t 
 
38 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 you come up to my room it s right at the head 
 of the stairs. I have a fire, you know." 
 
 Back into the young man s lean hawk-like face 
 crept the assurance that belonged with the gay at 
 tire he wore. He dropped the revolver into his 
 pocket, and smiled a sneering smile. 
 
 "Ypu gave me a turn," he said. "Of course you 
 live here. Are any of the other guests about? 
 And who won the tennis match to-day ?" 
 
 "You are facetious." Mr. Magee smiled too. 
 "So much the better. A lively companion is the 
 very sort I should have ordered to-night. Come 
 up-stairs." 
 
 The young man looked suspiciously about, his 
 thin nose seemingly scenting plots. He nodded, 
 and picked up the candle. "All right," he said. 
 "But I ll have to ask you to go first. You know 
 the way." His right hand sought the pocket into 
 which the revolver had fallen. / 
 
 "You honor my poor and drafty house," said 
 (Mr. Magee. "This way." 
 
 He mounted the stairs. After him followed the 
 youth of flashy habiliments, looking fearfully 
 about him as he went. He seemed surprised that 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 39 
 
 they came to Magee s room without incident. In 
 side, Mr. Magee drew up an easy chair before the 
 jfire, and offered his guest a cigar. 
 
 "You must be cold," he said. "Sit here. A 
 bad night, stranger as they remark in stories." 
 
 "You ve said it," replied the young man, accept 
 ing the cigar. "Thanks." He walked to the door 
 leading into the hall and opened it about a foot. 
 "I m afraid," he explained jocosely, "we ll get to 
 talking, and miss the breakfast bell." He dropped 
 into the chair, and lighted his cigar at a candle 
 end. "Say, you never can tell, can you? Climb 
 ing up old Baldpate I thought to myself, that hotel 
 certainly makes the Sahara Desert look like a cozy 
 corner. And here you are, as snug and comfort 
 able and at home as if you were in a Harlem flat. 
 You never can tell. And what now ? The story 
 of my life?" 
 
 "You might relate," Mr. Magee told him, "that 
 portion of it that has led you trespassing on a gen 
 tleman seeking seclusion at Baldpate Inn." 
 
 The stranger looked at Mr. Magee. He had an 
 eye that not only looked, but weighed, estimated, 
 anc^ classified. Mr. Magee met it smilingly. 
 
4b SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Trespassing, eh ?" said the young man. "Far 
 be it from me to quarrel with a man who smokes 
 as good cigars as you do but there s something 
 I haven t quite doped out. That is who s tres 
 passing, me or you ?" 
 
 "My right here," said Mr. Magee, "is indispu 
 table." 
 
 "It s a big word," replied the other, "but you 
 can tack it to my right here, and tell no lie. We 
 can t dispute, so let s drop the matter. With that 
 settled, I m encouraged to pour out the story of 
 why you see me here to-night, far from the mad 
 ding crowd. Have you a stray tear? You ll 
 need it. It s a sad touching story, concerned with 
 haberdashery and a trusting heart, and a fair 
 woman fair, but, oh, how false!" 
 
 "Proceed," laughed Mr. Magee. "I m an ad 
 mirer of the vivid imagination. Don t curb yours, 
 I beg of you." 
 
 "It s all straight," said the other in a hurt tone. 
 "Every word true. My name is Joseph Bland. 
 My profession, until love entered my life, was that 
 of haberdasher and outfitter. In the city of Reu- 
 ton, fifty miles from here, I taught the Beau 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 41 
 
 Brummels of the thoroughfares what was doing in 
 London in the necktie line. I sold them coats with 
 padded shoulders, and collars high and awe inspir 
 ing. I was happy, twisting a piece of silk over myj 
 hand to show them how it would look on their 
 heaving bosoms. And then she came/ 
 
 Mr. Bland puffed on his cigar. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "Arabella sparkled on the hori 
 zon of my life. When I have been here in the quiet 
 for about two centuries, maybe I can do justice to 
 her beauty. I won t attempt to describe her now. 
 I loved her madly. She said I made a hit with 
 her. I spent on her the profits of my haberdash 
 ery. I whispered marriage. She didn t scream. 
 I had my wedding necktie picked out from the 
 samples of a drummer from Troy." He paused 
 and looked at Mr. Magee. "Have you ever stood, 
 poised, on that brink?" he asked. 
 
 "Never," replied Magee. "But go on. Your 
 story attracts me, strangely." 
 
 "From here on the tear I spoke of, please. 
 There flashed on the scene a man she had known 
 and loved in Jersey City. I said flashed. He did 
 just that. A swell dresser say, he had John 
 
42 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Drew beat by two mauve neckties and a purple 
 frock coat. I had a haberdashery back of me. 
 No use. He put-dressed me. I saw that Arabel 
 la s love for me was waning. With his chamois- 
 gloved hands that new guy fanned the ancient 
 flame." 
 
 He paused. Emotion or the smoke of the 
 cigar choked him. 
 
 "Let s make the short story shorter/ he said. 
 "She threw me down. In my haberdashery I 
 thought it over. I was blue, bitter. I resolved 
 on a dreadful step. In the night I wrote her a 
 letter, and carried it down to the box and posted 
 it. Life without Arabella, said the letter, was 
 Shakespeare with Hamlet left out. It hinted at 
 the river, carbolic acid, revolvers. Yes, I posted 
 it. And then " 
 
 "And then," urged Mr. Magee. 
 
 Mr. Bland felt tenderly of the horseshoe pin in 
 his purple tie. 
 
 "This is just between us," he said. "At that 
 point the trouble began. It came from my being 
 naturally a very brave man. I could have died 
 easy. The brave thing was to live. To go on, day 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 43 
 
 after day, devoid of Arabella say, that took 
 courage. I wanted to try it. I m a courageous 
 man, as I say." 
 
 "You seem so," Mr. Magee agreed. 
 
 "Lion-hearted," assented Mr. Bland. "I deter 
 mined to show my nerve, and live. But there was 
 my letter to Arabella. I feared she wouldn t ap 
 preciate my bravery women are dull sometimes. 
 It came to me maybe she would be hurt if I didn t 
 keep my word, and die. So I had to disappear. 
 I had a friend mixed up in affairs at Baldpate, 
 No, I can t give his name. I told him my story. 
 He was impressed by my spirit, as you have been. 
 He gave me a key he had the key of the door 
 opening from the east veranda into the dining- 
 room. So I came up here. I came here to be 
 alone, to forgive and forget, to be forgot. And 
 maybe to plan a new haberdashery in distant 
 parts." 
 
 "Was it your wedding necktie," asked Mr. Ma-! 
 gee, "that you threw into the safe when you saw 
 me coming?" 
 
 "No," replied Mr. Bland, sighing deeply. "A 
 package of letters, written to me by Arabella at 
 
44 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 various times. I want to forget em. If I kept 
 them on hand, I might look at them from time to 
 time. My great courage might give way you 
 might find my body on the stairs. That s why I 
 hid them/ 
 
 Mr. Magee laughed, and stretched forth his 
 hand. 
 
 "Believe me/ he said, "your touching confi 
 dence in me will not be betrayed. I congratulate 
 you on your narrative power. You want my 
 story. Why am I here ? I am not sure that it is 
 worthy to follow yours. But it has its good 
 points as I have thought it out." 
 
 He went over to the table, and picked up a pop 
 ular novel upon which his gaze had rested while 
 the haberdasher spun his fabric of love and gloom. 
 On the cover was a picture of a very dashing 
 maiden. 
 
 "Do you see that girl?" he asked. "She is 
 beautiful, is she not ? Even Arabella, in her most 
 splendid moments, could get a few points from 
 her, I fancy. Perhaps you are not familiar with 
 the important part such a picture plays in the suc 
 cess of a novel to-day. The truth is, however, 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 45 
 
 that the noble art of fiction writing has come to 
 lean more and more heavily on its illustrators. 
 The mere words that go with the pictures grow 
 less important every day. There are dozens of; 
 distinguished novelists in the country at this mo 
 ment who might be haberdashers if it weren t for 
 the long, lean, haughty ladies who are scattered 
 tastefully through their works." 
 
 Mr. Bland stirred uneasily. 
 
 "I can see you are at a loss to know what my 
 search for seclusion and privacy has to do with 
 all this," continued Mr. Magee. "I am an artist. 
 For years I have drawn these lovely ladies who 
 make fiction salable to the masses. Many a nov 
 elist owes his motor-car and his country house to 
 my brush. Two months ago, I determined to give 
 up illustration forever, and devote my time to 
 painting. I turned my back on the novelists. Can 
 you imagine what happened?" 
 
 "My imagination s a little tired," apologized 
 Mr. Bland. 
 
 "Never mind. I ll tell ypu. The leading au 
 thors whose work I had so long illustrated saw 
 ruin staring them in the face. They came to me, 
 
46 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 on their knees, figuratively. They begged. They 
 pleaded. They hid in the vestibule of my flat I 
 should say, my studio. They even came up in my 
 dumb-waiter, having bribed the janitor. They 
 wouldn t take no for an answer. In order to es 
 cape them and their really pitiful pleadings, I had 
 to flee. I happened to have a friend involved in 
 the management of Baldpate Inn. I am not at 
 liberty to give his name. He gave me a key. So 
 here I am. I rely on you to keep my secret If 
 you perceive a novelist in the distance, lose no 
 time in warning me." 
 
 Mr. Magee paused, chuckling inwardly. He 
 stood looking down at the lovelorn haberdasher. 
 The latter got to his feet, and solemnly took Ma- 
 gee s hand. 
 
 "I I oh, well, you ve got me beat a mile, old 
 man," he said. 
 
 "You don t mean to say " began the hurt Ma- 
 gee. 
 
 "Oh, that s all right/ Mr. Bland assured him. 
 "I believe every word of it It s all as real as the 
 haberdashery to me. I ll keep my eye peeled for 
 novelists. What gets me is, when you boil our 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 47 
 
 two fly-by-night stories down, I ve come here to 
 be alone. You want to be alone. We can t be 
 alone here together. One of us must clear out." 
 
 "Nonsense/ answered Billy Magee. "I ll be 
 glad to have you here. Stay as long as you like." 
 
 The haberdasher looked Mr. Magee fully in the 
 eye, and the latter was startled by the hostility he 
 saw in the other s face. 
 
 "The point is/ said Mr. Bland, "I don t want 
 you here. Why ? Maybe because you recall beau 
 tiful dames on book covers and in that way, 
 Arabella. Maybe but what s the use? I put it 
 simply. I got to be alone alone on Baldpate 
 Mountain. I won t put you out to-night " 
 
 "See here, my friend/ cried Mr. Magee, ".your 
 grief has turned your head. You won t put me 
 out to-night, or to-morrow. I m here to stay. 
 You re welcome to do the same, if you like. But 
 you stay with me. I know you are a man of 
 courage but it would take at least ten men of 
 courage to put me out of Baldpate Inn." 
 
 They stood eying each other for a moment. 
 Bland s thin lips twisted into a sneer. "We ll 
 see," he said. "We ll settle all that in the morn-. 
 
48 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 ing." His tone took on a more friendly aspect 
 "I m going to pick out a downy couch in one of 
 these rooms," he said, "and lay me down to sleep. 
 Say, I could greet a blanket like a long-lost 
 friend." 
 
 Mr. Magee proffered some of the covers that 
 Quimby had given him, and accompanied Mr. 
 Bland to suite ten, across the hall. He explained 
 the matter of "stale air", and assisted in the open 
 ing of windows. The conversation was mostly 
 facetious, and Mr. Eland s last remark concerned 
 the fickleness of woman. With a brisk good night, 
 Mr. Magee returned to number seven. 
 
 But he made no move toward the chilly brass 
 bed in the inner room. Instead he sat a long time 
 by the fire. He reflected on the events of his first 
 few hours in that supposedly uninhabited solitude 
 where he was to be alone with his thoughts. He 
 pondered the way and manner of the flippant 
 young man who posed as a lovelorn haber 
 dasher, and under whose flippancy there was cer 
 tainly an air of hostility. Who was Andy Rutter, 
 down in Reuton ? What did the young man mean 
 when he asked if he should "close up shop"? 
 
A LOVELORN HABERDASHER 49 
 
 Who was the "he" from whom came the orders ? 
 and most important of all, what was in the pack 
 age now resting in the great safe ? 
 
 Mr. Magee smiled. Was this the stuff of which 
 solitude was made ? He recalled the ludicrous lit 
 erary tale he had invented to balance the moving 
 fiction of Arabella, and his smile grew broader. 
 His imagination, at least, was in a healthy state. 
 He looked at his watch. A quarter of twelve* 
 Probably they were having supper at the Plaza 
 now, and Helen Faulkner was listening to the 
 banalities of young Williams. He settled in his 
 seat to think of Miss Faulkner. He thought of 
 her for ten seconds ; then stepped to the window. 
 
 The moon had risen, and the snowy roofs of 
 Upper Asquewan Falls sparkled in the lime-light 
 of the heavens. Under one of those roofs was the 
 girl of the station weeping no more, he hoped. 
 Certainly she had eyes that held even the least sus 
 ceptible to which class Mr. Magee prided him 
 self he belonged. He wished he might see her 
 again; might talk to her without interruption 
 from that impossible "mamma." 
 
 Mr. Magee turned back into the room. His 
 
S o SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 fire was but red glowing ashes. He threw off his 
 dressing-gown, and began to unlace his shoes. 
 
 "There has been too much crude melodrama in 
 my novels," he reflected. "It s so easy to write. 1 
 But I m going to get away from all that up here. 
 I m going " 
 
 Mr. Magee paused, with one shoe poised in his 
 hand. For from below came the sharp crack of a 
 pistol, followed by the crash of breaking glass. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 
 
 MR. MAGEE slipped into his dressing- 
 gown, seized a candle, and like the boy 
 in the nursery rhyme with one shoe off and pne 
 shoe on, ran into the hall. All was silent ancj dark 
 below. He descended to the landing, and stood 
 there, holding the candle high above his head. It 
 threw a dim light as far as the bottom of the 
 stairs, but quickly lost the battle with the shadows 
 that lay beyond. 
 
 "Hello," the voice of Bland, the haberdasher, 
 came out of the blackness. "The Goddess of Lib 
 erty, as I live ! What s your next imitation ?" 
 
 "There seems to be something doing," said Mr. 1 
 Magee. 
 
 Mr. Bland came into the light, partially dis 
 robed, his revolver in his hand. 
 
 "Somebody trying to get in by the front door," ( 
 
 51 
 
52 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 he explained. "I shot at him to scare him away. 
 Probably one of your novelists." 
 
 "Or Arabella," remarked Mr. Magee, coming 
 down. 
 
 "No," answered Bland. "I distinctly saw a 
 derby hat." 
 
 With Mr. Magee descended the yellow candle 
 light, and brushing aside the shadows of the hotel 
 office, it revealed a mattress lying on the floor 
 close to the clerk s desk, behind which stood the 
 safe. On the mattress was the bedding Magee 
 had presented to the haberdasher, hastily thrown 
 back by the lovelorn one on rising. 
 
 "You prefer tp sleep down here," Mr. Magee 
 commented. 
 
 "Near the letters of Arabella yes," replied 
 Bland. His keen eyes met Magee s. There was 
 : a challenge in them. 
 
 Mr. Magee turned, and the yellow light of the 
 candle flickered wanly over the great front door. 
 Even as he looked at it, the door was pushed open, 
 and a queer figure of a man stood framed against 
 a background pf glittering snow. Mr. Bland s 
 arm flew up. 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 53 
 
 "Don t shoot," cried Magee. 
 
 "No, please don t," urged the man in the door 
 way. A beard, a pair of round owlish spectacles, 
 and two ridiculous ear-muffs, left only a sugges 
 tion of face here and there. He closed the door 
 and stepped into the room. "I have every right 
 here, I assure you, even though my arrival is 
 somewhat unconventional. See 1 have the key." 
 He held up a large brass key that was the coun 
 terpart of the one Hal Bentley had bestowed upon 
 Mr. Magee in that club on far-off Forty- fourth 
 Street. 
 
 "Keys to burn," muttered Mr. Bland sourly. 
 
 "I bear no ill will with regard to the shooting," 
 went on the newcomer. He took off his derby hat 
 and ruefully regarded a hole through the crown. 
 His bald head seemed singularly frank and naked 
 above a face of so many disguises. "It is only nat 
 ural that men alone on a mountain should defend 
 themselves from invaders at two in the morning 
 My escape was narrow, but there is no ill will." 
 
 He blinked about him, his breath a white cloud 
 in the cold room. 
 
 "Life, young gentlemen," he remarked, setting 
 
54 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 down his bag and leaning a green umbrella against 
 it, "has its surprises even at sixty-two. Last night 
 I was ensconced by my own library fire, preparing 
 a paper on the Pagan Renaissance. To-night I 
 am on Baldpate Mountain, with a perforation m 
 my hat." 
 
 Mr. Bland shivered. "I m going back to bed/ 
 he said in disgust. 
 
 "First," went on the gentleman with the per 
 forated derby, "permit me to introduce myself. I 
 am Professor Thaddeus Bolton, and I hold the 
 Chair of Comparative Literature in a big eastern 
 university." 
 
 Mr. Magee took the mittened hand of the pro 
 fessor. 
 
 "Glad to see you, I m sure," he said. "My 
 name is Magee. This is Mr. Bland he is impet 
 uous but estimable. I trust you will forgive his 
 first salute. What s a bullet among gentlemen? 
 It seems to me that as explanations may be 
 lengthy and this room is very cold, we would do 
 well to go up to my room, where there is a fire." 
 
 "Delighted," cried the old man. "A fire, I 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 55 
 long to see one. Let us go to your room, by all 
 
 means." 
 
 Mr. Bland sulkily stalked to his matteess and 
 secured a gaily colored bed quilt, which he wound 
 about his thin form. 
 
 "This is positively the last experience meeting 
 I attend to-night," he growled. 
 
 They ascended to number seven. Mr. Magee 
 piled fresh logs on the fire; Mr. Bland saw to it 
 that the door was not tightly closed. The pro 
 fessor removed, along with other impedimenta, 
 his ear tabs, which were connected by a rubber 
 cord. He waved them like frisky detached ears 
 before him. 
 
 "An old man s weakness," he remarked. "Fool 
 ish, they may seem to you. But I assure you I 
 found them useful companions in climbing Bald- 
 pate Mountain at this hour." 
 
 He sat down in the largest chair suite seven 
 owned, and from its depths smiled benignly at the 
 two young men. 
 
 "But I am not here to apologize for my apparel, 
 am I? Hardly. You are saying to yourselves 
 
56 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Why is he here ? Yes, that is the question that 
 disturbs you. What has brought this domesti 
 cated college professor scampering from the Pa 
 gan Renaissance to Baldpate Inn ? For answer, I 
 must ask you to go back with me a week s time, 
 and gaze at a picture from the rather dreary aca 
 demic kaleidoscope that is my life. 
 
 "I am seated back of a desk on a platform in a 
 bare yellow room. In front of me, tier on tier, 
 sit a hundred young men in various attitudes 0f 
 inattention. I am trying to tell them something 
 of the ideal poetry that marked the rebirth of the 
 Saxon genius. They are bored. I well, gentle 
 men, in confidence, even the mind of a college pro 
 fessor has been known to wander at times from 
 the subject in hand. And then I begin to read a 
 poem a poem descriptive pf a woman dead six 
 hundred years and more. Ah, gentlemen " 
 
 He sat erect on the edge of his great chair. 
 Back of the thick lenses of his spectacles he had 
 eyes that still could flash. 
 
 This is not an era of romance," he said. "Our 
 people grub in the dirt for the dollar. Their vis 
 ions perish. Their souls grow stale. Yet, now 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 57 
 
 and then, at most inopportune times, comes the 
 flash that reveals to us the glories that might be. 
 A gentleman of my acquaintance caught a glimpse 
 of perfect happiness while he was in the midst of 
 an effort to corner the pickle market. Another 
 evolved the scheme of a perfect ode to the essen 
 tial purity of woman in a Broadway restaurant. 
 So, like lightning across the blackest sky, our 
 poetic moments come." 
 
 Mr. Bland wrapped his gay quilt more securely 
 about him. Mr. Magee smiled encouragement on 
 the newest raconteur. 
 
 "I shall be brief/ continued Professor Bolton. 
 "Heaven knows that pedagogic room was no place 
 for visions, nor were those athletic young men fit 
 companions for a soul gone giddy. Yet I lost 
 my head. As I read on there returned to my heart 
 a glow I had not known in forty years. The bard 
 spoke of her hair : 
 
 " Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden wyre, 
 About her shoulders weren loosely shed 
 
 and I saw, as in a dream ahem, I can trust you, 
 gentlemen a girl I supposed I had forever forgot 
 
58 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 in the mold and dust of my later years. I will not 
 go further into the matter. My wife s hair is 
 J)lack. 
 
 , "And reading on, but losing the thread of the 
 poet s eulogy in the golden fabric of my resur 
 rected dream, it came to me to compare that maid 
 I knew in the long ago with the women I know 
 to-day. Ah, gentlemen ! Lips, made but for smil 
 ing, fling weighty arguments on the unoffending 
 atmosphere. Eyes, made to light with that light 
 that never was by land or sea, blaze instead with 
 what they call the injustice of woman s servitude. 
 White hands, made to find their way to the hands 
 of some young man in the moonlight, carry ban 
 ners in the dusty streets. It seemed I saw the blue 
 eyes of that girl of long ago turned, sad, rebuking, 
 on her sisters of to-day. As I finished reading, 
 my heart was awhirl. I said to the young men 
 before me: 
 
 " There was a woman, gentlemen a woman 
 worth a million suffragettes. 
 
 "They applauded. The fire in me died down. 
 Soon I was my old meek, academic self. The 
 vision had left no trace. I dismissed my class and 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 59 
 
 went home. I found that my wife she of the 
 black hair had left my slippers by the library 
 fire. I put them on, and plunged into a pamphlet 
 lately published by a distinguished member of a 
 German university faculty. I thought the inci 
 dent closed forever." 
 
 He gazed sorrowfully at the two young men. 
 
 "But, gentlemen, I had not counted on that vi 
 per that we nourish in our bosom the American 
 newspaper. At present I will not take time to de 
 nounce the press. I am preparing an article on the 
 subject for a respectable weekly of select circula 
 tion. Suffice it to record what happened. The 
 next day an evening paper appeared with a huge 
 picture of me on its front page, and the hideous 
 statement that this was the Professor Bolton who 
 had said that One Peroxide Blonde Is Worth a 
 Million Suffragettes . 
 
 "Yes, that was the dreadful version of my re 
 mark that was spread broadcast. Up to the time 
 that story appeared, I had no idea as to what sort 
 of creature the peroxide blonde might be. I pro 
 tested, of course. I might as well have tried to 
 dam a tidal wave with a table fork. The wrath 
 
60 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 of the world swept down upon me. I was deluged 
 with telegrams, editorials, letters, denouncing me. 
 Firm- faced females lay in wait for me and waved 
 umbrellas in my eyes. Even my wife turned from 
 me, saying that while she did not ask me to hold 
 her views on the question of suffrage, she thought 
 I might at least refrain from publicly commend 
 ing a type of woman found chiefly in musical 
 comedy choruses. I received a note from the 
 president of the university, asking me to be more 
 circumspect in my remarks. Me Thadeus Bol- 
 ton the most conservative man on earth by in 
 stinct ! 
 
 "And still the denunciations of me poured in; 
 still women s clubs held meetings resolving against 
 me; still a steady stream of reporters flowed 
 through my life, urging me to state my views fur 
 ther, to name the ten greatest blondes in history, 
 to heaven knows what. Yesterday I resolved I 
 could stand it no longer. I determined to go away 
 until the whole thing was forgotten. But , they 
 said to me, there is no place, on land or sea, where 
 the reporters will not find you*. I talked the mat 
 ter over with my old friend, John Bentley, owner 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 6r 
 
 of Baldpate Inn, and he in his kindness gave me 
 the key to this hostelry." 
 
 The old man paused and passed a silk handker 
 chief over his bald head. 
 
 "That, sirs," he said, "is my story. That is 
 why you see me on Baldpate Mountain this chill 
 December morning. That is why loneliness can 
 have no terrors, exile no sorrows, for me. That is 
 why I bravely faced your revolver-shots. Again 
 let me repeat, I bear no malice on that score. You 
 have ruined a new derby hat, and the honorarium 
 of professor even at a leading university is not 
 such as to permit of many purchases in that line. 
 But I forgive you freely. Even at the cannon s 
 mouth I would have fled from reputation, to para 
 phrase the poet." 
 
 Wisely Professor Bolton blinked about him. 
 Mr. Bland was half asleep in his chair, but Mr. 
 Magee was quick with sympathy. 
 
 "Professor," he said, "you are a much suffer 
 ing man. I feel for you. Here, I am sure, you 
 are safe from reporters, and the yellow journals 
 will soon forget you in their discovery of the next 
 distorted wonder. Briefly, Mr. Bland and myself 
 
62 SEVEiN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 will outline the tangle of events that brought us 
 to the inn " 
 
 "Briefly is right," broke in Bland. "And then 
 it s me for that mountainous mattress of mine. I 
 can rattle my story off in short order, and give 
 you the fine points to-morrow. Up to a short time 
 
 But Billy Magee interrupted. An idea, mag 
 nificent, delicious, mirthful, had come to him. 
 Why not? He chuckled inwardly, but his face 
 was most serious. 
 
 "I should like to tell my story first, if you 
 please," he said. 
 
 The haberdasher grunted. The professor nod 
 ded. Mr. Magee looked Bland squarely in the 
 eye, strangled the laugh inside him, and began : 
 
 "Up to a short time ago I was a haberdasher in 
 the city of Reuton. My name, let me state, is 
 Magee William Magee. I fitted the gay shoul 
 der-blades of Reuton with clothing from the back 
 pages of the magazines, and as for neckties " 
 
 Mr. Bland s sly eyes had opened wide. He rose 
 to a majestic height majestic considering the 
 bed quilt. 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 63 
 
 "See here" he began. 
 
 "Please don t interrupt," requested Mr. Magee 
 sweetly. "I was, as I have said, a happy care 
 free haberdasher. And then she entered my life. 
 Arabella was her name. Ah, Professor, your 
 lady pf the yellow locks, crisped liken golden wire 
 even she must never in my presence be com 
 pared with Arabella. She she had a face 
 Noah Webster couldn t have found words to de 
 scribe it. And her heart was true to yours truly 
 at least I thought that it was." 
 
 Mr. Magee rattled on. The haberdasher, his 
 calling and his tragedy snatched from him by the 
 humorous Magee, retired with sullen face into 
 his bed quilt. Carefully Mr. Magee led up to the 
 coming of the man from Jersey City ; in detail he 
 laid bare the duel of haberdashery fought in the 
 name of the fair Arabella. As he proceeded, his 
 enthusiasm grew. He added fine bits that had es 
 caped Mr. Bland. He painted with free hand the 
 picture of tragedy s dark hour; the note hinting 
 at suicide he gave in full. Then he told of how 
 his courage grew again, of how he put the cow 
 ardice of death behind him, resolved to dare all 
 
64 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 and live. He finished at last, his voice husky with 
 emotion. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced 
 triumphantly at Bland. That gentleman was gaz 
 ing thoughtfully at the blazing logs. 
 
 "You did quite right," commented Professor 
 Bolton, "in making up your mind to live. I con 
 gratulate you on your common sense. And per 
 haps, as the years go by, you will realize that had 
 you married your Arabella, you would not have 
 found life all honey and roses. She was fickle, 
 unworthy pf you. Soon you will forget Youth 
 ah, youth throws off its sorrow like a cloak. A 
 figure not original with me. And now the gen 
 tleman in the er the bed quilt. Has he, too, a 
 story?" 
 
 "Yes," laughed Mr. Magee, "let s hear now 
 from the gentleman in the bed quilt. Has he, too, 
 a story? And if so, what is it?" 
 
 He smiled delightedly into the eyes of Bland. 
 What would the ex-haberdasher do, shorn of his 
 fictional explanation ? Would he rise in his wrath 
 and denounce the man who had stolen his Ara 
 bella? Mr. Bland smiled back. He stood up. 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 65 
 
 And a contingency that had not entered Mr. Ma- 
 gee s mind came to be. 
 
 Mr. Bland walked calmly to the table, and 
 picked up a popular novel that lay thereon. On 
 its cover was the picture of a very beautiful 
 maiden. 
 
 "See that dame?" he inquired of the professor. 
 "Sort of makes a man sit up and take notice, 
 doesn t she? Even the frost-bitten haberdasher 
 here has got to admit that in some ways she has 
 this Arabella person looking like a faded chromo 
 in your grandmother s parlor on a rainy after 
 noon. Ever get any notion, Professor, the way a 
 picture like that boosts a novel in the busy marts 
 of trade? No? Well" 
 
 Mr. Bland continued. Mr. Magee leaned back, 
 overjoyed, in his chair. Here was a man not to 
 be annoyed by the mere filching of his story. 
 Here was a man with a sense of humor an op 
 ponent worthy his foe s best efforts. In his role 
 of a haberdasher overcome with woe, Mr. Magee 
 listened. 
 
 "I used to paint dames like that," Bland 
 
66 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 saying to the dazed professor. He explained how 
 his pictures had enabled many a novelist to "eat 
 up the highway in a buzz-wagon." As he ap 
 proached the time when the novelists besieged 
 him, he gave full play to his imagination. One, 
 he said, sought out his apartments in an aeroplane. 
 
 "Say, Professor," he finished, "we re in the 
 same boat. Both hiding from writers. A fellow 
 that s spent his life selling neckties well, he can t 
 exactly appreciate our situation. There s what 
 you might call a bond between you and me. D ye 
 know, I felt drawn to you, just after I fired that 
 first shot. That s why I didn t blaze away again. 
 We re going to be great friends I can read it in 
 the stars." 
 
 He took the older man s hand feelingly, shook 
 it, and walked away, casting a covert glance of 
 triumph at Mr. Magee. 
 
 The face of the holder pf the Crandall Chair 
 of Comparative Literature was a study. He 
 looked first at one young man, then at the other. 
 Again he applied the handkerchief to his shining 
 head. 
 ; "All this is very odd," he said thoughtfully. ; 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 67 
 
 "A man of sixty-two particularly one who has 
 long lived in the uninspired circle surrounding a 
 university has not the quick wit of youth. I m 
 afraid I don t but no matter. It s very odd, 
 though." 
 
 He permitted Mr. Magee to escort him into the 
 hall, and to direct his search for a bed that should 
 serve him through the scant remainder of the 
 night. Overcoats and rugs were pressed into serv 
 ice as cover. Mr. Bland blithely assisted. 
 
 "If I see any newspaper reporters," he assured 
 the professor on parting, "I ll damage more than 
 their derbies." 
 
 "Thank you," replied the old man heartily. 
 "You are very kind. To-morrow we shall become 
 better acquainted. Good night." 
 
 The two young men came out and stood in the 
 hallway. Mr. Magee spoke in a low tone. 
 
 "Forgive me," he said, "for stealing your Ara 
 bella." 
 
 "Take her and welcome," said Bland. "She 
 was beginning to bore me, anyhow. And I m not 
 in your class as an actor." He came close to Ma 
 gee. In the dim light that streamed out from 
 
68 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 number seven the latter saw the look on his face f 
 and knew that, underneath all, this was a very 
 much worried young man. 
 
 Tor God s sake," cried Bland, "tell me who 
 you are and what you re doing here. In three 
 words tell me." 
 
 "If I did," Mr. Magee replied, "you wouldn t 
 believe me. Let such minor matters as the truth 
 wait over till to-morrow." 
 
 "Well, anyhow," Bland said, his foot on the top 
 step, "we are sure of one thing we don t trust 
 each other. I ve got one parting word for you. 
 Don t try to come down-stairs to-night. I ve got 
 a gun, and I ain t afraid to shoot." 
 
 He paused. A look of fright passed over his 
 face. For on the floor above they both heard soft 
 footsteps then a faint click, as though a door 
 had been gently closed. 
 
 "This inn," whispered Bland, "has more keys 
 than a literary club in a prohibition town. And 
 every one s in use, I guess. Remember. Don t 
 try to come down-stairs. I ve warned you. Or 
 Arabella s cast-off Romeo may be found with a 
 bullet in him yet" 
 
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES 69 
 
 "I shan t forget what you say," answered Mr. 
 Magee. "Shall we look about up-stairs ?" 
 
 Bland shook his head. 
 
 "No," he said. "Go in and go to bed. If s the 
 down-stairs that that concerns me. Good night." 
 
 He went swiftly down the steps, leaving Mr. 
 Magee staring wonderingly after him. Like a 
 wraith he merged with the shadows below. Ma 
 gee turned slowly, and entered number seven. A 
 fantastic film of frost was on the windows ; the in 
 ner room was drear and chill. Partially undress 
 ing, he lay down on the brass bed and pulled the 
 covers over him. 
 
 The events of the night danced in giddy array 
 before him as he closed his eyes. With every 
 groan Baldpate Inn uttered in the wind he started 
 up, keen for a new adventure. At length his mind 
 seemed to stand still, and there remained of all 
 that amazing evening s pictures but one that of 
 a girl in a blue corduroy suit who wept wept 
 only that her smile might be the more dazzling 
 when it flashed behind the tears. "With yellow 
 locks, crisped like golden wire," murmured Mr. 
 Magee. And so he fell asleep. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT APPEARS 
 
 EVERY morning at eight, when slumber s 
 chains had bound Mr. Magee in his New 
 York apartments, he was awakened by a pompous 
 valet named Geoffrey whom he shared with the 
 other young men in the building. It was Geof 
 frey s custom to enter, raise the curtains, and 
 speak of the weather in a voice vibrant with feel 
 ing, as of something he had prepared himself and 
 was anxious to have Mr. Magee try. So, when 
 a rattling noise came to his ear on his first morn 
 ing at Baldpate Inn, Mr. Magee breathed sleepily 
 from the covers : "Good morning, Geoffrey." 
 
 But no cheery voice replied in terms of sun, 
 wind, or rain. Surprised, Mr. Magee sat up in 
 bed. About him, the maple-wood furniture of 
 suite seven stood shivering in the chill of a De 
 cember morning. Through the door at his left he 
 
 70 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 71 
 
 caught sight of a white tub into which, he recalled 
 sadly, not even a Geoffrey could coax a glittering 
 drop. Yes he was at Baldpate Inn. He remem 
 bered the climb with the dazed Quimby up the 
 snowy road, the plaint of the lovelorn haberdash 
 er, the vagaries of the professor with a penchant 
 for blondes, the mysterious click of the door-latch 
 on the floor above. And last of all strange that 
 it should have been last a girl in blue corduroy 
 somewhat darker than her eyes, who wept amid 
 the station s gloom. 
 
 "I wonder," reflected Mr. Magee, staring at the 
 very brassy bars at the foot of his bed, "what new 
 variations on seclusion the day will bring forth ?" 
 
 Again came the rattling noise that had awak 
 ened him. He looked toward the nearest window, 
 and through an unfrosted corner of the pane he 
 saw the eyes of the newest variation staring at 
 him in wonder. They were dark eyes, and kindly ; 
 they spoke a desire to enter. 
 
 Rising from his warm retreat, Mr. Magee took 
 his shivering way across the uncarpeted floor and 
 unfastened the window s catch. From the blus 
 tering balcony a plump little man stepped inside. 
 
72 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 He had a market basket on his arm. His face was 
 a stranger to razors; his hair to shears. He re 
 minded Mr. Magee of the celebrated doctor who 
 came every year to the small town of his boyhood, 
 there to sell a wonderful healing herb to the 
 crowds on the street corner. 
 1 Magee dived hastily back under the covers. 
 "Well?" he questioned. 
 
 "So you re the fellow/ remarked the little man 
 in awe. He placed the basket on the floor; it ap 
 peared to be filled with bromidic groceries, such as 
 the most subdued householder carries home. 
 
 "Which fellow?" asked Mr. Magee. 
 
 The fellow Elijah Quimby told me about," ex 
 plained he of the long brown locks. "The fellow 
 that s come up to Baldpate Inn to be alone with 
 his thoughts." 
 
 "You re one of the villagers, I take it," guessed 
 Mr. Magee. 
 
 "You re dead wrong. I m no villager. My in-, 
 stincts are all in the other direction away from 
 the crowd. I live up near the top of Baldpate, in 
 a little shack I built myself. My name s Peters 
 Jake Peters in the winter. But in the summer, 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 73 
 
 when the inn s open, and the red and white awn 
 ings are out, and the band plays in the casino 
 every night then I m the Hermit of Baldpate 
 Mountain. I come down here and sell picture 
 post-cards of myself to the ladies." 
 
 Mr. Magee appeared overcome with mirth. 
 
 "A professional hermit, by the gods !" he cried. 
 "Say, I didn t know Baldpate Mountain was fitted 
 up with all the modern improvements. This is 
 great luck. I m an amateur at the hermit busi 
 ness, you ll have to teach me the fine points. Sit 
 down." 
 
 "Just between ourselves, I m not a regular her* 
 mit," said the plump bewhiskered one, sitting gin 
 gerly on the edge of a frail chair. "Not one of 
 these all for love of a woman hermits you read 
 about in books. Of course, I have to pretend I 
 am, in summer, in order to sell the cards and do 
 my whole duty by the inn management. A lot of 
 the women ask me in soft tones about the great 
 disappointment that drove me to old Baldpate, 
 and I give em various answers, according to how 
 I feel. Speaking to you as a friend, and consider 
 ing the fact that it s the dead of winter, I may say 
 
74 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 there was little or no romance in my life. I mar 
 ried early, and stayed married a long time. I 
 came up here for peace and quiet, and because I 
 felt a man ought to read something besides time 
 tables and tradesmen s bills, and have something 
 over his head besides a first and second mortgage." 
 
 "Back to nature, in other words," remarked 
 Mr. Magee. 
 
 "Yes, sir back with a rush. I was down to 
 the village this morning for a few groceries, and 
 I stopped off at Quimby s, as I often do. He told 
 me about you. I help him a lot around the inn, 
 and we arranged I was to stop in and start your 
 fire, and do any other little errands you might 
 want done. I thought we ought to get acquainted, 
 you and me, being as we re both literary men, 
 after a manner of speaking." 
 
 "No?" cried Mr. Magee. 
 
 "Yes," said the Hermit of Baldpate. "I dip 
 into that work a little now and then. Some of my 
 verses on the joys of solitude have appeared in 
 print on the post-cards I sell to the guests in the 
 summer. But my life-work, as you might call it, 
 is a book I ve had under way for some time. It s 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 75 
 
 called simply Woman. Just that one word but, 
 oh, the meaning in it! That book is going to 
 prove that all the trouble in the world, from the 
 beginning of time, was caused by females. Not 
 just say so, mind you. Prove it !" 
 
 "A difficult task, I m afraid," smiled Magee. 
 
 "Not difficult long/ corrected the hermit. 
 "When I started out, four years ago, I thought it 
 would just be a case of a chapter on Eve, and hon 
 orable mention for Cleopatra and Helen of Troy, 
 and a few more like that, and the thing would be 
 done. But as I got into the subject, I was fairly 
 buried under new evidence. Then Mr. Carnegie 
 came along and gave Upper Asquewan Falls a 
 library. It s wonderful to think the great works 
 that man will be responsible for. I ve dedicated 
 Woman to him. Since the new library, I ve dug 
 up information about a thousand disasters I never 
 dreamed of before, and I contend that if you go 
 back a ways in any one of em, you ll find the 
 fluffy little lady that started the whole rumpus. 
 So I hunt the woman. I reckon the French would 
 call me the greatest cherches la femme in history." 
 
 "A fascinating pursuit," laughed Mr. Magee. 
 
76 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I m glad you ve told me about it, and I shall 
 watch the progress of the work with interest. Al 
 though I can t say that I entirely agree with you. 
 jHere and there is a woman who more than makes 
 amends for whatever trouble her sisters have 
 caused. One, for instance, with golden hair, and 
 eyes that when they weep " 
 
 "You re young," interrupted the little man, ris 
 ing. "There ain t no use to debate it with you. 
 I might as well try to argue with a storm at sea. 
 Some men keep the illusion to the end of their 
 days, and I hope you re one. I reckon I ll start 
 your fire." 
 
 He went into the outer room, and Mr. Magee 
 lay for a few moments listening to his prepara 
 tions about the fireplace. This was comfort, he 
 thought. And yet, something was wrong. Was 
 it the growing feeling of emptiness inside ? Un 
 doubtedly. He sat up in bed and leaning over, 
 gazed into the hermit s basket. The packages he 
 saw there made his feeling of emptiness the more 
 acute. 
 
 "I say, Mr. Peters," he cried, leaping from bed 
 and running into the other room, where the her- 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 77 
 
 mit was persuading a faint blaze, "I ve an idea. 
 You can cook, can t you ?" 
 
 "Cook?" repeated the hermit. "Well, yes, I ve 
 had to learn a few things about it, living far from 
 the rathskellars the way I do." 
 
 "The very man," rejoiced Mr. Magee. "You 
 must stay here and cook for me for us." 
 
 "Us?" asked the hermit, staring. 
 
 "Yes. I forgot to tell you. After Mr. Quimby 
 left me last night, two other amateur hermits hove 
 in view. One is a haberdasher with a broken 
 heart" 
 
 "Woman," cried the triumphant Peters. 
 
 "Name, Arabella," laughed Magee. "The 
 other s a college professor who made an indiscreet 
 remark about blondes. You won t mind them, I m 
 sure, and they may be able to help you a lot with 
 your great work." 
 
 "I don t know what Quimby will say," studied 
 the hermit. "I reckon he ll run em out. He s 
 against this thing afraid of fire." 
 
 "Quimby will come later," Mr. Magee assured 
 him, drawing on a dressing-gown. "Just now the 
 idea is a little water in yonder tub, and a nice 
 
78 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 cheerful breakfast after. It s going to pay you a 
 lot better than selling post-cards to romantic 
 ladies, I promise you. I won t take you away 
 from a work for which the world is panting with 
 out more than making it up to you financially. 
 Where do you stand as a coffee maker?" 
 
 "Wait till you taste it," said Peters reassur 
 ingly. "I ll bring you up some water." 
 
 He started for the door, but Mr. Magee pre 
 ceded him. 
 
 "The haberdasher," he explained, "sleeps be 
 low, and he s a nervous man. He might commit 
 the awful error of shooting the only cook on 
 Baldpate Mountain." 
 
 Mr. Magee went out into the hall and called 
 from the depths the figure of Bland, fully attired 
 in his flashy garments, and looking tawdry and 
 tired in the morning light. 
 
 "I ve been up hours," he remarked. "Heard 
 somebody knocking round the kitchen, but I ain t 
 seen any breakfast brought in on a silver tray. 
 My inside feels like the Mammoth Cave." 
 
 Mr. Magee introduced the Hermit of Baldpate. 
 
 "Pleased to meet you," said Bland. "I guess it 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 7$ 
 
 was you I heard in the kitchen. So you re going 
 to cater to this select few, are you? Believe me, 
 you can t get on the job any too soon to suit me." 
 
 Out of a near-by door stepped the black-garbed 
 figure of Professor Thaddeus Bolton, and him 
 Mr. Magee included in the presentation cere 
 monies. After the hermit had disappeared below, 
 burdened with his market basket and the supplies 
 Mr. Magee had brought the night before, the 
 three amateurs at the hermit game gathered by 
 the fire in number seven, and Mr. Bland spoke 
 feelingly : 
 
 "I don t know where you plucked that cook, but 
 believe me, you get a vote of thanks from yours 
 truly. What is he an advertisement for a hair 
 restorer ?" 
 
 "He s a hermit," explained Magee, "and lives 
 in a shack near the mountain-top. Hermits and 
 barbers aren t supposed to mix. He s also an au 
 thor, and is writing a book in which he lays all the 
 trouble of the ages at the feet of woman. Please 
 treat him with the respect all these dignified activ 
 ities demand/ 
 
 "A writer, you say," commented Professor Bol- 
 
8o SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 ton. "Let us hope it will not interfere with his 
 cooking abilities. For even I, who am riot much 
 given to thought about material things, must ad 
 mit the presence of a gnawing hunger within." 
 
 They talked little, being men unfed, while Jake 
 Peters started proceedings in the kitchen, and 
 tramped up-stairs with many pails of water. Mr. 
 Magee requested warm water for shaving ; where 
 upon he was regarded with mingled emotions by 
 his companions. 
 
 "You ain t going to see any skirts up here," Mr. 
 Bland promised him. And Mr. Peters, bringing 
 the water from below, took occasion to point out 
 that shaving was one of man s troubles directly 
 attributable to woman s presence in the world. 
 
 At length the hermit summoned them to break 
 fast, and as they descended the broad stair the 
 heavenly odor of coffee sent a glow to their hearts. 
 Peters had built a rousing fire in the big fireplace 
 ^opposite the clerk s desk in the office, and in front 
 of this he had placed a table which held promise 
 of a satisfactory breakfast As the three sat 
 down, Mr. Bland spoke : 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 81 
 
 "I don t know about you, gentlemen, but I could 
 fall on Mr. Peters neck and call him blessed." 
 
 The gentleman thus referred to served them 
 genially. He brought to Mr. Magee, between 
 whom and himself he recognized the tie of au 
 thorship, a copy of a New York paper that he 
 claimed to get each morning from the station 
 agent, and which helped him greatly, he said, in 
 his eternal search for the woman. As the meal 
 passed, Mr. Magee glanced it through. Twice he 
 looked up from it to study keenly his queer com 
 panions at Baldpate Inn. Finally he handed it 
 across the table to the haberdasher. The dull yel 
 low sun of a winter morning drifted in from the 
 white outdoors; the fire sputtered gaily in the 
 grate. Also, Mr. Peters failing for literature in 
 terfered in no way with his talents as cook. The 
 three finished the repast in great good humor, and 
 ^Mr. Magee handed round cigars. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he remarked, pushing back his 
 chair, "we find ourselves in a peculiar position. 
 Three lone men, knowing nothing of one another, 
 we have sought the solitude of Baldpate Inn at 
 
82 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 almost the same moment. Why ? Last night, be 
 fore you came, Professor Bolton, Mr. Bland gave 
 me as his reason for being here the story of Ara 
 bella, which I afterward appropriated as a joke 
 and gave as my own reason. I related to Mr., 
 Bland the fiction about the artist and the besieg 
 ing novelists. We swapped stories when you 
 came it was our merry little method of doubting 
 each other s word. Perhaps it was bad taste. At 
 any rate, looking at it in the morning light, I am 
 inclined to return Mr. Bland s Arabella, and no 
 questions asked. He is again the lovelorn haber 
 dasher. I am inclined to believe, implicitly, your 
 story. That is my proposition. No doubts of one 
 another. We are here for whatever reasons we 
 say we are." 
 
 The professor nodded gravely. 
 
 "Last night," went on Mr. Magee, "there was 
 some talk between Mr. Bland and myself about 
 one of us leaving the inn. Mr. Bland demanded 
 it. I trust he sees the matter differently this morn 
 ing, I for one should be sorry to see him go." 
 
 "I ve changed my mind," said Mr. Bland. The 
 look on his thin face was not a pleasant one. 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 83 
 
 "Very good," went on Mr. Magee. "I sec no 
 reason why we should not proceed on friendly 
 terms. Mr. Peters has agreed to cook for us. He 
 can no doubt be persuaded to attend to our other 
 wants. For his services we shall pay him gener 
 ously, in view of the circumstances. As for 
 Quimby I leave you to make your peace with 
 him." 
 
 "I have a letter to Mr. Quimby from my old 
 friend, John Bentley," said the professor, "which 
 I am sure will win me the caretaker s warm re 
 gard." 
 
 Mr. Magee looked at Bland. 
 
 "I ll get Andy Rutter on the wire," said that 
 gentleman. "Quimby will listen to him, I guess." 
 
 "Maybe," remarked Magee carelessly. "Who is 
 Rutter?" 
 
 "He s manager of the inn when it s open," an- 
 ,swered Bland. He looked suspiciously at Magee. 
 "I only know him slightly," he added. 
 
 "Those matters you will arrange for your 
 selves," Mr. Magee went on. "I shall be very 
 glad of your company if you can fix it to stay. 
 Believe it or not I forgot, we agreed to believe, 
 
84 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 didn t we? I am here to do some writing. I m 
 going up to my room now to do a little work. All 
 I ask of you gentlemen is that, as a favor to me, 
 you refrain from shooting at each other while I 
 am gone. You see, I am trying to keep crude 
 melodrama out of my stuff." 
 
 "I am sure," remarked Professor Bolton, "that 
 the use of firearms as a means of social diversion 
 between Mr. Bland and myself is unthought of." 
 
 "I hope so," responded Magee. "There, then, 
 the matter rests. We are here that is all." He 
 hesitated, as though in doubt. Then, with a de 
 cisive motion, he drew toward him the New York 
 paper. With his eyes on the head-lines of the first 
 page, he continued: "I shall demand no further 
 explanations. And except for this once, I shall 
 make no reference to this story in the newspaper, 
 to the effect that early yesterday morning, in a 
 laboratory at one of our leading universities, a 
 young assistant instructor was found dead under 
 peculiar circumstances." He glanced keenly at the 
 bald-headed little man across from him. "Nor 
 shall I make conversation of the fact," he added, 
 "that the professor of chemistry at the university, 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 85 
 
 a man past middle age, respected highly in the uni 
 versity circle, is missing." 
 
 An oppressive silence followed this remark. 
 Mr. Eland s sly eyes sought quickly the profess 
 or s face. The older man sat staring at his plate ; 
 then he raised his head and the round spectacles 
 were turned full on Magee. 
 
 "You are very kind," said Professor Bolton 
 evenly. 
 
 "There is another story in this paper," went on 
 Mr. Magee, glancing at the haberdasher, "that, it 
 seems to me, I ought to taboo as table talk at Bald- 
 pate Inn. It relates that a few days ago the youth 
 ful cashier of a bank in a small Pennsylvania 
 town disappeared with thirty thousand dollars of 
 the bank s funds. No," he concluded, "we are 
 simply here, gentlemen, and I am very glad to let 
 it go at that." 
 
 Mr. Bland sneered knowingly. 
 
 "I should think you would be," he said. "If 
 you ll turn that paper over you ll read on the back 
 page that day before yesterday a lot of expensive 
 paintings in a New York millionaire s house were 
 cut from their frames, and that the young artisj; 
 
86 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 who was doing retouching in the house at the time 
 has been just careless enough not to send his ad 
 dress to the police. It s a small matter, of course, 
 and the professor and I will never mention it 
 again." 
 
 Mr. Magee threw back his head and laughed 
 heartily. 
 
 "We understand one another, it seems," he 
 said. "I look forward to pleasant companionship 
 where I had expected solitude. You will excuse 
 me now there is the work to which I referred. 
 Ah, here s Peters," he added as the hermit en 
 tered through the dining-room door at the side of 
 the stairs. 
 
 "All finished, gentlemen?" he asked, coming 
 forward. "Now, this is solid comfort, ain t it? 
 I reckon when you get a few days of this, you ll 
 all become hermits, and build yourselves shacks 
 on the mountain. Solid comfort. No woman to 
 make you put on overshoes when you go out, or 
 lecture you about the effects of alcohol on the 
 stomach. Heaven, I call it." 
 
 "Peters," said Mr. Magee, "we have been won- 
 
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT 87 
 
 dering if you will stay on here and cook for us. 
 We need you. How about it ?" 
 
 "Well 111 be glad to help you out," the her- 
 
 mit replied. "I guess I can manage to give satis- 
 f 
 
 faction, seeing there ain t no women around. If, 
 there was, I wouldn t think of it. Yes, I ll stay- 
 and do what I can to boost the hermit life in your 
 estimation. I " 
 
 He stopped. His eyes were on the dining-room, 
 door, toward which Mr. Magee s back was turned. 
 The jaw of Peters fell, and his mouth stood wide 
 open. Behind the underbrush of beard a very 
 surprised face was discernible. 
 
 Mr. Magee turned quickly. A few feet inside 
 the door stood the girl of the station, weeping no 
 more, but radiant with smiles. Back of her was 
 the determined impossible companion of yester-, 
 day. 
 
 "Oh, mamma," laughed the girl, "we re too late 
 for breakfast ! Isn t it a shame ?" 
 k Mr. Bland s lean hands went quickly to adjust 
 liis purple tie. Professor Bolton looked every, 
 inch the owl as he blinked in dazed fashion at the 
 
88 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 blue corduroy vision. Gingerly Mr. Peters set 
 down the plates he had taken from the table, still 
 neglecting his open mouth. 
 
 Mr. Magee rose from the table, and went for 
 ward with outstretched hand. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE MAYOR CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 
 
 ^TT^ROM tears to smiles," said Mr. Magee, 
 
 1 taking the girl s hand "What worked the 
 transformation? Not the Commercial House, I 
 know, for I passed it last evening." 
 
 "No, hardly the Commercial House," laughed 
 the girl "Rather the sunshine of a winter morn 
 ing, the brisk walk up the mountain, and the sight 
 of the Hermit of Baldpate with eyes like saucers 
 staring at a little girl who once bought his postal 
 cards." 
 
 "Then you know Mr. Peters ?" inquired Magee. 
 
 "Is that his name ? You see, I never met him in 
 private life he was just the hermit when I knew 
 him. I used to come to Baldpate in the summers, 
 and send his cards back to the folks at home, and 
 dream dreams of his love-story when from my 
 window I saw the light of his shack at night I m 
 so glad to meet Mr. Peters informally." 
 
 so 
 
90 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 She held out her hand, but Peters, by long prac 
 tise wary of women, had burdened himself with 
 breakfast plates which prevented his clasping it 
 He muttered "How d ye do ?" and fled toward the 
 door, narrowly averting what would have proved 
 a serious collision with the large woman on the 
 way. 
 
 "Mr. Peters meets so few of your sex in win 
 ter," Magee apologized, "you must pardon his 
 clumsiness. This gentleman" he indicated the 
 professor, who arose "is Thaddeus Bolton, a 
 distinguished member of a certain university fac 
 ulty, who has fled to Baldpate to escape the press 
 of America. And this is Mr. Bland, who hides 
 here from the world the scars of a broken heart 
 But let us not go into details." 
 
 The girl smiled brightly. "And you " she 
 asked. 
 
 "William Hallo well Magee," he returned, bow 
 ing low. "I have a neat little collection of stories 
 accounting for my presence here, from which I 
 shall allow you to choose later. Not to mention 
 the real one, which is simple almost to a fault/ 
 
 "I am so happy to meet you all," said the girt. 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 91 
 
 "We shall no doubt become very good friends. 
 For mamma and I have also come to Baldpate 
 Inn to stay." 
 
 Mr. Bland opened wide his usually narrow eyes, 
 and ran his hand thoughtfully over his one day s 
 beard. Professor Bolton blinked his astonish 
 ment. Mr. Magee smiled. 
 
 "I, for one, am delighted to hear it," he said. 
 
 "My name/ went on the girl, "is Mary Norton. 
 May I present my mother, Mrs. Norton ?" 
 
 The older woman adopted what was obviously 
 her society manner. Once again Mr. Magee felt 
 a pang of regret that this should be the parent of 
 a girl so charming. 
 
 "I certainly am pleased to meet you all," she 
 said in her heavy voice. "Ain t it a lovely morn 
 ing after the storm? The sun s almost blinding." 
 
 "Some explanation," put in Miss Norton quick 
 ly, "is due you if I am to thrust myself thus upon 
 you. I am perfectly willing to tell why I am 
 here but the matter mustn t leak out. I can trust 
 you, I m sure." 
 
 Mr. Magee drew up chairs, and the two women 
 were seated before the fire. 
 
92 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "The bandits of Baldpate," he remarked flip 
 pantly, glancing at the two men, "have their own 
 code of honor, and the first rule is never to betray 
 a pal." 
 
 "Splendid !" laughed the girl. "You said, I be 
 lieve, that Professor Bolton was fleeing from the 
 newspapers. I am fleeing for the newspapers 
 to attract their attention to lure them into giving 
 me that thing so necessary to a woman in my pro 
 fession, publicity. You see, I am an actress. The 
 name I gave you is not my stage name. That, 
 perhaps, you would know. I employ a gentleman 
 to keep me before the public as much as possible. 
 It s horrid, I know, but it means bread and butter 
 to me. That gentleman, my press-agent, evolved 
 the present scheme a mysterious disappearance." 
 
 She paused and looked at the others. Mr. Ma- 
 gee surveyed her narrowly. The youthful bloom 
 of her cheek carried to him no story of grease 
 f ;,int; her unaffected manner was far from sug 
 gesting anything remotely connected with the 
 stage. He wondered. 
 
 "I am to disappear completely for a time," she 
 went on. " As though the earth had swallowed 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 93 
 
 me will be the good old phrase of the reporters. 
 I am to linger here at Baldpate Inn, P. key to which 
 my press-agent has secured for me. Meanwhile, 
 the papers will speak tearfully of me in their head 
 lines at least, I hope they will. Can t you just 
 see them those head-lines? Beautiful Actress 
 Drops from Sight ." She stopped, blushing. 
 "Every woman who gets into print, you know, is 
 beautiful." 
 
 "But it d be no lie in your case, dearie," put in 
 Mrs. Norton, feeling carefully of her atrociously 
 blond store hair. 
 
 "Your mother takes the words from my 
 mouth," smiled Mr. Magee. "Guard as they will 
 against it, the newspapers let the truth crop out 
 occasionally. And this will be such an occasion." 
 
 "From what part of Ireland do you come?" 
 laughed the girl. She seemed somewhat embar 
 rassed by her mother s open admiration. "Well, 
 setting all blarney aside, such will be the head-, 
 lines. And when the last clue is exhausted, and 
 my press-agent is the same, I come back to appear 
 in a new play, a well-known actress. Of such flip 
 pant things is a Broadway reputation built." 
 
94 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "We all wish you success, I m sure." Mr. Ma- 
 gee searched his memory in vain for this "ac 
 tress s" name and fame. Could it be possible, he 
 wondered, at this late day, that any one would iry 
 for publicity by such an obvious worn-out road? 
 Hardly. The answer was simple. Another fable 
 was being spun from whole cloth beneath the roof 
 of Baldpate Inn. "We have a New York paper 
 here/ he went on, "but as yet there seems to be 
 ao news of your sad disappearance." 
 
 "Wouldn t it be the limit if they didn t fall for 
 it ?" queried the older woman. 
 
 "Fall for it," repeated Professor Bolton, not 
 questioningly, but with the air of a scientist about 
 to add a new and rare specimen to his alcohol jar. 
 
 "She means, if they didn t accept my disappear 
 ance as legitimate news," explained the girl. 
 "That would be very disappointing. But surely 
 f here was no harm in making the experiment." 
 
 "They re a clever lot, those newspaper guys, 5 
 sneered Mr. Bland, "in their own opinion. But 
 when you come right down to it, every one of em 
 has a nice little collection of gold bricks in his 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 95 
 
 closet. I guess you ve got them going. I hope 
 so." 
 
 "Thank you," smiled the girl. "You are very 
 kind. You are here, I understand, because of an 
 unfortunate er affair of the heart?" 
 
 Mr. Bland smoothed back his black oily hair 
 from his forehead, and smirked. "Oh, now " 
 he protested. 
 
 "Arabella," put in Mr. Magee, <; was her name. 
 The beauties of history and mythology hobbled 
 into oblivion at sight of her." 
 
 "I m quick to forget," insisted Mr. Bland. 
 
 "That does you no credit, I m sure," replied the 
 girl severely. "And now, mamma, 1 1 think we 
 had better select our rooms " 
 
 She paused. For Elijah Quimby had come in 
 through the dining-room door, and stood gazing 
 at the grpup before the fire, his face reflecting 
 what Mr. Magee, the novelist, would not have hes 
 itated r, moment in terming "mingled emotions". 
 
 "Well/ drawled Mr. Quimby. He strode into 
 the room. "Mr. Magee," he said, "that letter 
 from Mr. Bentley asked me to let you stay at 
 
96 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Baldpate Inn. There wasn t anything in it about 
 your bringing parties of friends along/ 
 
 "These are not friends I ve brought along," ex 
 plained Magee. "They re simply some more ama 
 teur hermits who have strolled in from time to 
 time. All have their individual latch-keys to the 
 hermitage. And all, I believe, have credentials 
 for you to examine." 
 
 Mr. Quimby stared in angry wonder. 
 
 "Is the world crazy ?" he demanded. "Any ons 
 d think it was July, the way people act. The 
 inn s closed, I tell you. It ain t running." 
 
 Professor Bolton rose from his chair. 
 
 "So you are Quimby," he said in a soothing 
 tone. "I m glad to meet you at last. My old 
 friend John Bentley has spoken of you so often. 
 I have a letter from him." He drew the care 
 taker to one side, and took an envelope from his 
 pocket. The two conversed in low tones. 
 
 Quickly the girl in the corduroy suit leaned to 
 ward Mr. Magee. She whispered, and her tone 
 was troubled : 
 
 "Stand by me. I m afraid I ll need your help. * 
 
 "What s the matter?" inquired Magee. 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 97 
 
 "I haven t much of any right here, I guess. But 
 I had to come." 
 
 "But your key ?" 
 
 "I fear my my press-agent stole it." 
 
 A scornful remark as to the antiquated methods 
 of that mythical publicity promoter rose to Mr. 
 Magee s lips, but before he spoke he looked into 
 her eyes. And the remark was never made. For 
 in their wonderful depths he saw worry and fear 
 and unhappiness, as he had seen them there amid 
 tears in the station. 
 
 "Never mind," he said very gently, "I ll see you 
 through." 
 
 Quimby was standing over Mr. Bland. "How 
 about you ?" he asked. 
 
 "Call up Andy Rutter and ask about me," re 
 plied Bland, in the tone of one who prefers war 
 to peace. 
 
 "I work for Mr. Rentley," said Quimby. 
 "Rutter hasn t any authority here. He isn t to be 
 manager next season, I understand. However, 
 the professor wants me to let you stay. He says 
 he ll be responsible." Mr. Bland looked in open- 
 mouthed astonishment at the unexpected sponsor 
 
98 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 he had found. "And you?" went on Quimby to 
 the women. 
 
 "Why" began Miss Norton. 
 
 "Absolutely all right," said Mr. Magee. "They 
 come from Hal Bentley, like myself. He s put 
 them in my care. I ll answer for them." He saw 
 the girl s eyes ; they spoke her thanks. 
 
 Mr. Quimby shook his head as one in a dream. 
 
 "All this is beyond me way beyond," he rumi 
 nated. "Nothing like it ever happened before 
 that I ve heard of. I m going to write all about it 
 to Mr. Bentley, and I suppose I got to let you stay 
 till I hear from him. I think he ought to come up 
 here, if he can," 
 
 "The more the merrier," said Mr. Magee, re 
 flecting cheerfully that the Bentley s were in Flor 
 ida at last accounts. 
 
 "Come, mamma," said Miss Norton, rising, 
 "let s go up and pick out a suite. There s one I 
 used to have a few years ago you can see the? 
 hermit s shack from the windows. By the way, 
 Mr. Magee, will you send Mr. Peters up to us? 
 He may be able to help us get settled." 
 
 "Ahem," muttered Mr. Magee, "I I ll have a 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 99 
 
 talk with Peters. To be quite frank, I anticipate 
 trouble. You see, the Hermit of Baldpate doesn t 
 approve pf women " 
 
 "Don t approve of women," cried Mrs. Norton, 
 her green eyes flashing. "Why not, I d like to 
 know?" 
 
 "My dear madam," responded Mr. Magee, 
 "only echo answers, and it but vacuously repeats, 
 Why not? . That, however, is the situation. 
 Mr. Peters loathes the sex. I imagine that, until 
 to-day, he was not particularly happy in the ex 
 amples of it he encountered. Why, he has even 
 gone so far as to undertake a book attributing 
 all the trouble of the world to woman." 
 
 "The idiot !" cried Mrs. Norton. 
 
 "Delicious !" laughed the girl. 
 
 "I shall ask Peters to serve you," said Magee. 
 *! shall appeal to his gallant side. But I must 
 proceed gently. This is his first day as our cook, 
 and you know how necessary a good first impres 
 sion is with a new cook. I ll appeal to his better 
 nature." 
 
 "Don t do it," cried the girl. "Don t empha 
 size us to him in any way, or he may exercise his 
 
ioo SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 right as cook and leave. Just ignore us. We ll 
 play at being our own bell-boys." 
 
 "Ignore you," cried Mr. Magee. "What Her 
 culean tasks you set. I m not equal to that one." 
 He picked up their traveling-bags and led the way 
 up-stairs. "I m something of a bell-boy myself, 
 when roused," he said. 
 
 The girl selected suite seventeen, at the farther 
 end of the corridor from Magee s apartments. 
 "It s the very one I used to have, years and years 
 ago at least two or three years ago," she said. 
 "Isn t it stupid? All the furniture in a heap." 
 
 "And cold," said Mrs. Norton. "My land, I 
 wish I was back by my own fire." 
 
 "I ll make you regret your words, Mrs. Nor 
 ton," cried Magee. He threw up the windows, 
 pulled off his coat, and set to work on the furni 
 ture. The girl bustled about, lightening his work 
 by her smile. Mrs. Norton managed to get con 
 sistently in the way. When he had the furniture 
 distributed, he procured logs and tried his hand 
 at a fire. Then he stood, his black hair disheveled, 
 his hands soiled, but his heart very gay, before 
 the girl of the station. 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW WORE *oi 
 
 "I hope you don t expect a tip," she said, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 "I do," he said, coming closer, and speaking 
 in a voice that was not for the ear of the chap 
 eron. "I want a tip on this do you really act ?" 
 
 She looked at him steadily. 
 
 "Once," she said, "when I was sixteen, I ap 
 peared in an amateur play at school. It was my 
 first and last appearance on the stage." 
 
 "Thanks, lady," remarked Mr. Magee in imi 
 tation of the bell-boy he was supposed to be. He 
 sought number seven. There he made himself 
 again presentable, after which he descended to 
 the office. 
 
 Mr. Bland sat reading the New York paper 
 before the fire. From the little card-room and 
 the parlor, the two rooms to the right and left 
 of the hotel s front door, Quimby had brought 
 forth extra chairs. He stood now by the large 
 chair that held Professor Bolton, engaged in con 
 versation with that gentleman. 
 
 "Yes," he was saying, "I lived three years i 
 Reuton and five years in New York. It took me 
 eight years eight years to realize the truth." 
 
702 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I heard about it from John Bentley," the pro 
 fessor said gently. 
 
 "He s been pretty kind to me, Mr. Bentley 
 has," replied Quimby. "When the money was 
 all gone, he offered me this job. Once the Quim- 
 bys owned most of the land around Baldpate 
 Mountain. It all went in those eight years. To 
 think that it took all those years for me to find 
 it out" 
 
 "If I m not impertinent, Quimby," put in Ma- 
 gee, "to find what out?" 
 
 "That what I wanted, the railroad men didn t 
 want," replied Quimby bitterly, "and that was 
 the safety of the public. You see, I invented a 
 new rail joint, one that was a great improvement 
 on the old kind. I had sort of an idea, when I 
 was doing it an idea of service to the world 
 you know. God, what a joke! I sold all the 
 Quimby lands, and went to Reuton, and then to 
 New York, to place it. Not one of the railroad 
 men but admitted that it was an improvement, 
 and a big one and not one but fought like mad 
 to keep nie from getting it down where the pub- 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 103 
 
 lie would see it. They didn t want the expense 
 of a change." 
 
 Mr. Quimby looked out at the sunlit stretch of 
 snow. 
 
 "Eight years," he repeated, "I fought and 
 pleaded. No, I begged that was the word I 
 begged. You d be surprised to know the names 
 of some of the men who kept me waiting in their 
 private offices, and sneered at me over their pol 
 ished desks. They turned me down every one. 
 Some of them played me as though I d been a 
 fish. They referred me to other ends of the 
 same big game, laughing in their sleeves, I guess, 
 at the knowledge of how hopeless it was. Oh, 
 they made a fine fool of me." 
 
 "You might have put down some of your joints 
 at your own expense," suggested the professor. 
 
 "Didn t I try?" cried Quimby. "Do you think 
 they d let me? No, the public might see them 
 and demand them everywhere. Once, I thought 
 I had convinced somebody. It was down in 
 Reuton the Suburban Railway." There was a 
 rustle as Mr. Bland let his paper fall to the fioon 
 
104 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Old Henry Thornhill was president of the road 
 he is yet, I guess but young Hayden and a 
 fellow named David Kendrick were running it. 
 Kendrick was on my side he almost had Hay- 
 den. They were going to let me lay a stretch of 
 track with my joints. Then something hap 
 pened. Maybe you remember. Kendrick disap 
 peared in the night he s never been seen since." 
 
 "I do remember," said the professor softly. 
 
 "Hayden turned me down/ went on Quimby. 
 "The money was all gone. So I came back to 
 Upper Asquewan caretaker of an inn that over 
 looks the property my father owned the prop 
 erty I squandered for a chance to save human 
 lives. It s all like a dream now those eight 
 years. And it nearly drives me mad, sometimes, 
 to think that it took me eight years eight years 
 to find it out. I ll just straighten things around 
 a bit" 
 
 He moved away, and the men sat in silence for 
 a time. Then the professor spoke very gently: 
 
 "Poor devil to have had his dream of service 
 and then grow old on Baldpate." 
 
 The two joined Mr. Bland by the fire. Mr, 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 105 
 
 Magee had put from his mind all intention of 
 work. The maze of events through which he 
 wandered held him bewildered and enthralled. 
 He looked at the haberdasher and the university 
 scholar and asked himself if they were real, or 
 if he was still asleep in a room on a side street 
 in New York, waiting for the cheery coming of 
 Geoffrey. He asked himself still more perplex 
 edly if the creature that came toward him now 
 through the dining-room door was real the 
 hairy Hermit of Baldpate, like a figure out of 
 some old print, his market basket on his arm 
 again, his coat buttoned to the chin. 
 
 "Well, everything s shipshape in the kitchen," 
 announced the hermit cheerfully. "I couldn t go 
 without seeing to that. I wish you the best of 
 luck, gentlemen and good-by." 
 
 "Good-by?" cried the professor. 
 
 "By the gods, he s leaving us," almost wept 
 Mr. Bland. 
 
 "It can t be," said Mr. Magee. 
 
 "It has to be," said the Hermit of Baldpate, 
 solemnly shaking his head. "I d like to stay with 
 you, and I would of, if they hadn t come. But 
 
io6 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 here they are and when women come in the 
 door, I fly out of the window, as the saying is." 
 
 "But, Peters/ pleaded Magee, "you re not go- 
 4ng to leave us in the hole like this ?" 
 
 "Sorry," replied Peters, "I can please men, 
 but I can t please women. I tried to please one 
 once but let the dead past bury its dead. I live 
 on Baldpate in a shack to escape the sex, and it 
 wouldn t be consistent for me to stay here now. 
 I got to go. I hate to, like a dog, but I got to." 
 
 "Peters," said Mr. Magee, "I m surprised. 
 After giving your word to stay ! And who knows 
 you may be able to gather valuable data for 
 your book. Stick around. These women won t 
 bother you. I ll make them promise never to 
 ask about the love-affair you didn t have never 
 even to come near you. And we ll pay you be 
 yond the dreams of avarice of a Broadway chef. 
 Won t we, gentlemen?" 
 
 The others nodded. Mr. Peters visibly weak 
 ened. 
 
 "Well" he began. "I" His eyes were on 
 the stair. Mr. Magee also looked in that direc 
 tion and saw the girl of the station smiling down. 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 107 
 
 She no longer wore coat and hat, and the absence 
 of the latter revealed a glory of golden hair 
 that became instantly a rival to the sunshine in 
 that drear bare room. 
 
 "No, Peters," she said, "yu mustn t go. We 
 couldn t permit it. Mamma and I will go." 
 
 She continued to smile at the obviously daz- 
 zled Peters. Suddenly he spoke in a determined 
 tone: 
 
 -No don t do that I ll stay." Then he 
 turned to Magee, and continued for that gentle 
 man s ear alone: "Dog-gone it, we re all alike. 
 We resolve and resolve, and then one of them 
 looks at us, and it s all forgot. I had a friend 
 who advertised for a wife, leastways, he was a 
 friend until he advertised. He got ninety-two re 
 plies, seventy of em from married men advising 
 against the step. Tm cured, he says to me. Not 
 for me. Did he keep his word? No. A week 
 after he married a widow just to see if what the 
 seventy said was true. I m mortal. I hang 
 around the buzz-saw. If you give me a little 
 money, I ll go down to the village and buy the 
 provisions for lunch." 
 
io8 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Gleefully Mr. Magee started the hermit on his 
 way, and then went over to where the girl stood 
 at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 "I promised him," he told her, "you d ask no 
 questions regarding his broken heart. It seems he 
 hasn t any." 
 
 "That s horrid of him, isn t it?" she smiled. 
 "Every good hermit is equipped with a broken 
 heart. I certainly shan t bother him. I came 
 down to get some water." 
 
 They went together to the kitchen, found a 
 pail, and filled it with icy water from the pump 
 at the rear of the inn. Inside once more, Mr. 
 Magee remarked thoughtfully: 
 
 "Who would have guessed a week ago that to 
 day I would be climbing the broad staircase of a 
 summer hotel carrying a pail of water for a lady 
 fair?" 
 
 They paused on the landing. 
 
 "There are more things in heaven and earth, 
 Horatio," smiled the girl,"than are dreamed of, 
 even by novelists." Mr. Magee started. Had 
 she recognized him as the Magee of light fiction? 
 It seemed hardly likely; they read his books, but 
 
HE CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE 109 
 
 they rarely remembered his name. Her face 
 went suddenly grave. She came closer. "I can t 
 help wondering," she said, "which side you are 
 on?" 
 
 "Which side of what?" asked Magee. 
 
 "Why, of this," she answered, waving her hand 
 toward the office below. 
 
 "I don t understand," objected Mr. Magee. 
 
 "Let s not be silly," she replied. "You know 
 what brought me here. I know what brought 
 you. There are three sides, and only one is hon 
 est. I hope, so very much, that you are on that 
 side." 
 
 "Upon my word " began Magee. 
 
 "Will it interest you to know," she continued, 
 "I saw the big mayor of Reuton in the village 
 this morning? With him was his shadow, Lou 
 Max. Let s see you had the first key, Mr. 
 Bland the second, the professor the third, and I 
 had the fourth. The mayor has the fifth key, of 
 course. He ll be here soon." 
 
 "The mayor," gasped Mr. Magee. "Really, I 
 haven t the slightest idea what you mean. I m 
 here to work " 
 
no SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Very well," said the girl coldly, "if you wish 
 it that way." They came to the door of seven 
 teen, and she took the pail from Mr. Magee s 
 hand. "Thanks." 
 
 " Where are you going, my pretty maid ? 
 asked Magee, indicating the pail. 
 
 " * "I ll see you at luncheon, sir," she said/ " re 
 sponded Miss Norton, and the door of seventeen 
 slammed shut. 
 
 Mr. Magee returned to number seven, and 
 thoughtfully stirred the fire. The tangle pf events 
 bade fair to swamp him. 
 
 "The mayor of Reuton," he mused, "has the 
 fifth key. What in the name of common sense 
 is going on? It s too much even for melodra 
 matic me." He leaned back in his chair. "Any 
 how, I like her eyes," he said. "And I shouldn t 
 want to be quoted as disapproving of her hair, 
 either. I m on her side, whichever it may be." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 GHOSTS OF THE SUMMER CROWD 
 
 "T WONDER," Miss Norton smiled up into 
 J[ Mr. Magee s face, "if you ever watched the 
 people at a summer hotel get set on their mark for 
 the sprint through the dining-room door ?" 
 
 "No," answered Magee, "but I have visited the 
 Zoo at meal-time. They tell me it is much the 
 
 same." 
 
 "A brutal comparison," said the girl. "But 
 just the same I m sure that the head waiter who 
 opens the door here at Baldpate must feel much 
 the same at the moment as the keeper who prof 
 fers the raw meat on the end of the pitchfork. 
 He faces such a wild determined mob. The 
 front rank is made up of hard-faced women 
 worn out by veranda gossip. Usually some stiff 
 old dowager crosses the tape first. I was thinking 
 that perhaps we resembled that crowd in the eyes 
 of Mr. Peters now." 
 
 in 
 
ii2 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 It was past one o clock, and Mr. Magee with 
 his four mysterious companions stood before the 
 fire in the office, each with an eager eye out for 
 the progress of the hermit, who was preparing 
 the table beside them. Through the kindness of 
 Quimby, the board was resplendent with snowy 
 linen. 
 
 "We may seem over-eager," commented Pro 
 fessor Bolton. "I have no doubt we do. It is 
 only natural. With nothing to look forward to 
 but the next meal, the human animal attaches a 
 preposterous importance to his feeding. We are 
 in the same case as the summer guests " 
 
 "Are we?" interrupted Mr. Magee. "Have we 
 nothing but the next meal to look forward to ? I 
 think not. I haven t. I ve come to value too 
 highly the capacity for excitement of Baldpate 
 Inn in December. I look forward to startling 
 things. I expect, before the day is out, at least 
 two gold-laced kings, an exiled poet, and a lord 
 mayor, all armed with keys to Baldpate Inn and 
 sto-ties strange and unconvincing." 
 
 Your adventures of the last twenty- four 
 hours," remarked the professor, smiling wanly, 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 113 
 
 "have led you to expect too much. I have made 
 inquiries of Quimby. There are, aside from his 
 own, but seven keys in all to the various doors of 
 Baldpate Inn. Four are here represented. It is 
 hardly likely that the other three will send dele 
 gates, and if they should, you have but a 
 slim chance for kings and poets. Even Baldpate s 
 capacity for excitement, you see, is limited by the 
 number of little steel keys which open its portals 
 to exiles from the outside world. I am reminded 
 of the words of the philosopher " 
 
 "Well, Peters, old top," broke in Mr. Bland 
 in robust tones, "isn t she nearly off the fire?" 
 
 "Now see here," said the hermit, setting down 
 the armful of dishes with which he had entered 
 the office, "I can t be hurried. I m all upset, as it 
 is. I can t cook to please women I don t pretend 
 to. I have to take all sorts of precautions with 
 this lunch. Without meaning to be impolite, but 
 just because of a passion for cold facts, I may say 
 that women are faultfinding." 
 
 "I m sure," said Miss Norton sweetly, "that 
 I shall consider your luncheon perfect." 
 
 "They get more faultfinding as they get old- 
 
114 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 er," replied Mr. Peters ungallantly, glancing at 
 the other woman. 
 
 Mrs. Norton glared. 
 
 "Meaning me, I suppose," she rasped. "Well, 
 don t worry. I ain t going to find anything 
 wrong." 
 
 "I ain t asking the impossible," responded Mr. 
 Peters. "I ain t asking you not to find anything 
 wrong. I m just asking you not to mention it 
 when you do." He retired to the kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Norton caressed her puffs lovingly. 
 
 "What that man needs," she said, "is a 
 woman s guiding hand. He s lived alone too long. 
 I d like to have charge of him for a while. Not 
 that I wouldn t be kind but I d be firm. If poor 
 Norton was alive to-day he d testify that I was 
 always kindness itself. But I insisted on his liv 
 ing up to his promises. When I was a girl I was 
 mighty popular. I had a lot of admirers." 
 
 "No one could possibly doubt that/ Mr. Magee 
 assured her. 
 
 "Then Norton came along," she went on, re 
 warding Magee with a smile, "and said he wanted 
 to make me happy. So I thought I d let him try. 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 115 
 
 He was a splendid man, but there s no denying 
 that in the years we were married he sometimes 
 forgot what he started out to do. I always 
 jbrought him up sharp. Your great desire/ I told 
 him, is to make me happy. I d keep on the job 
 if I was you! And he did, to the day of his 
 death. A perfectly lovely man, though careless 
 in money matters. If he hadn t had that failing 
 I wouldn t be" 
 
 Miss Norton, her cheeks flushed, broke in hur 
 riedly. 
 
 "Mamma, these gentlemen can t be at all inter 
 ested." Deftly she turned the conversation to 
 generalities. 
 
 Mr. Peters at last seated the winter guests of 
 Baldpate Inn, and opened his luncheon with a 
 soup which he claimed to have wrested from a 
 can. This news drew from Professor Bolton a 
 learned discourse on the tinned aids to the hermit 
 of to-day. He pictured the seeker for solitude 
 setting out for a desert isle, with canned foods 
 for his body and canned music for his soul. "Rob 
 inson Crusoe," he said, "should be rewritten 
 with a can-opener in the leading role." Mrs. 
 
n6 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Norton gave the talk a more practical turn by 
 bringing up the topic of ptomaine poisoning. 
 
 While the conversation drifted on, Mr. Magee 
 pondered in silence the weird mesh in which he 
 had become involved. What did it all mean? 
 What brought these people to Baldpate Christmas 
 week? His eyes sought the great safe back of the 
 desk, and stayed there a long time. In that safe, 
 he was sure, lay the answer to this preposterous 
 riddle. When his thoughts came back to the table 
 he iound Mr. Bland eying him narrowly. There 
 wa? a troubled look on the haberdasher s lean 
 face that could never be ascribed to the cruelty 
 of Arabella. 
 
 The luncheon over, Miss Norton and her 
 mother prepared to ascend to their rooms. Mr. 
 Magee maneuvered so as to meet the girl at the 
 foot of the stairs. 
 
 "Won t you come back," he whispered softly, 
 "and explain things to a poor hermiv who is com 
 pletely at sea ?" 
 
 "What things?" she asked. 
 
 "What it all means," he whispered. "Why you 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 117 
 
 wept in the station, why you invented the story 
 of the actress, why you came here to brighten 
 my drab exile what this whole comedy of Bald- 
 pate Inn amounts to, anyhow ? I assure you I am 
 as innocent of understanding it as is the czar of 
 Russia on his golden throne." 
 
 She only looked at him with unbelieving eyes. 
 
 "You can hardly expect me to credit that," she 
 said. "I must go up now and read mamma into 
 the pleasant land of thin girlish figures that is 
 her afternoon siesta. I may come back and talk 
 to you after a while, but I don t promise to ex 
 plain." 
 
 "Come back," pleaded Mr. Magee. "That is 
 all I ask." 
 
 "A tiny boon," she smiled. "I grant it." 
 
 She followed the generous figure of the other 
 woman up the stair and, casting back a dazzling 
 smile from the landing, disappeared. Mr. Magee 
 turned to find Professor Bolton discoursing to 
 Mr. Bland on some aspects of the Pagan Renais 
 sance. Mr. Bland s face was pained. 
 
 "That s great stuff, Professor," he said, "and 
 
ii8 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 usually I d like it. But just now I don t seem 
 in the mood, somehow. Would you mind saving 
 it forme till later?" 
 
 "Certainly," sighed the professor. Mr. Bland 
 slouched into the depths of his chair. Professor 
 Bolton turned his disappointed face ceilingward. 
 Laughing, Mr. Magee sought the solitude of 
 number seven. 
 
 "After all, I m here to work/ he told himself. 
 "Alarms and excursions and blue eyes must not 
 turn me from my task. Let s see what was my 
 task? A deep heart-searching novel, a novel de 
 void of rabid melodrama. It becomes more diffi 
 cult every minute here at Baldpate Inn. But that 
 should only add more zest to the struggle. I 
 devote the next two hours to thought." 
 
 He pulled his chair up before the blazing 
 hearth, and gazed into the red depths. But his 
 thoughts refused to turn to the masterpiece that 
 
 was to be born on Baldpate. They roamed to far- 
 
 i 
 
 off Broadway ; they strolled with Helen Faulkner 
 the girl he meant to marry if he ever got round 
 to it along dignified Fifth Avenue. Then joy 
 ously they trooped to a far more alluring, more 
 
* 
 
 THE SUMMER CROWD 119 
 
 human girl, who pressed a bit of cambric to her 
 face in a railway station, while a ginger-haired 
 agent peeped through the bars. How ridiculously 
 small that bit of cambric had been to hide so much 
 beauty. Soon Mr. Magee s thoughts were climbing 
 Baldpate Mountain, there to wander in a mystic 
 maze of ghostly figures which appeared from the 
 shadows, holding aloft in triumph gigantic keys. 
 Mr. Magee had slept but little the night before. 
 The quick December dusk filled number seven 
 when he awoke with a start. 
 
 He remembered that he had asked the girl to 
 come back to the office, and berated himself to 
 think that probably she had done so only to find 
 that he was not there. Hastily straightening his 
 tie, and dashing the traces of sleep from his eyes 
 with the aid of cold water, he ran down-stairs. 
 
 The great bare room was in darkness save for 
 the faint red of the fire. Before the fireplace sat 
 the girl of the station, her hair gleaming with a 
 new splendor in that light. She looked in mock 
 eproval at Mr. Magee. 
 
 "For shame," she said, "to be late at the tryst- 
 ing-place." 
 
120 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "A thousand pardons," Mr. Magee replied. "I 
 fell asleep and dreamed of a girl who wept in a 
 railway station and she was so altogether 
 charming I could not tear myself away." 
 
 "I fear/ she laughed, "you are old in the ways 
 of the world. A passion for sleep seems to have 
 seized the hermits. The professor has gone to his 
 room for that purpose. And Mr. Bland, his 
 broken heart forgot, slumbers over there." She 
 pointed to the haberdasher inert in a big chair 
 drawn up near the clerk s desk. "Only you and 
 I in all the world awake." 
 
 "Pretty lonesome, isn t it?" Mr. Magee glanced 
 over his shoulder at the shadows that crept in 
 on them. 
 
 "I was finding it very busy when you came," 
 she answered. "You see, I have known the inn 
 when it was gay with summer people, and as I 
 sat here by the fire I pretended I saw the ghosts 
 of a lot of the people I knew flitting about in the 
 dusk. The rocking-chair fleet sailed by " 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 "Black flag flying, decks cleared for action I 
 saw the rocking-chair fleet go by." She smiled 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 121 
 
 faintly. "We always called them that. Bitter, 
 unkind old women who sat hour after hour on the 
 veranda, and rocked and gossiped, and gossiped 
 and rocked. All the old women in the world 
 seem to gather at summer hotels. And, oh, the 
 cruel mouths the fleet had just thin lines of 
 mouths I used to look at them and wonder if 
 any one had ever kissed them." 
 
 The girl s eyes were very large and tender in 
 the firelight. 
 
 "And I saw some poor little ghosts weeping in 
 a corner," she went on ; "a few that the fleet had 
 run down and sunk in the sea of gossip. A little 
 ghost whose mother had not been all she should 
 have been, and the fleet found it out, and rocked, 
 and whispered, and she went away. And a few 
 who were poor the most terrible of sins to 
 them the fleet showed no mercy. And a fine 
 proud girl, Myra Thornhill, who was engaged to 
 a man named Kendrick, and who never dared 
 come here again after Kendrick suddenly disap 
 peared, because of the whispered dishonors the 
 fleet heaped upon his head/ 
 
 "What wicked women !" said Magee. 
 
122 * SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "The wickedest women in the world," answered 
 the girl. "But every summer resort must have its 
 (fleet I doubt if any other ever had its admiral, 
 though and that makes Baldpate supreme." 
 
 "Its admiral?" 
 
 "Yes. He isn t really that, I imagine sort of 
 a vice, or an assistant, or whatever it is, long ago 
 retired from the navy. Every summer he comes 
 here, and the place revolves about him. It s all so 
 funny. I wonder if any other crowd attains such 
 heights of snobbishness as that at a summer 
 resort? It s the admiral this, and the admiral 
 that, from the moment he enters the door. Nearly 
 every day the manager of Baldpate has a new 
 picture of the admiral taken, and hangs it here in 
 the hotel. Fll show them to you when it s light. 
 There s one over there by the desk, of the admiral 
 and the manager together, and the manager has 
 thrown his arm carelessly over the admiral s 
 shoulder with See how well I know him written 
 all over his stupid face. Oh, what snobs they 
 are!" 
 
 "And the fleet?" asked Mr. Magee. 
 
 "Worships him. They fish all day for a smile 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 123 
 
 from him. They keep track of his goings and 
 comings, and when he is in the card-room playing 
 his silly old game of solitaire, they run down their 
 victims in subdued tones so as not to disturb 
 him." 
 
 "What an interesting place," said Mr. Magee, 
 "I must visit Baldpate next summer. Shall 
 shall you be here ?" 
 
 "It s so amusing/ she smiled, ignoring the 
 question. "You ll enjoy it. And it isn t all fleet 
 and admiral. There s happiness, and romance, 
 and whispering on the stairs. At night, when the 
 lights are all blazing, and the band is playing 
 waltzes in the casino, and somebody is giving a 
 dinner in the grill-room, and the girls flit about 
 in the shadows looking too sweet for words well, 
 Baldpate Inn is a rather entrancing spot. I re 
 member those nights very often now." 
 
 Mr. Magee leaned closer. The flicker of the 
 firelight on her delicate face, he decided, was an 
 excellent effect. 
 
 "I can well believe you do remember them," 
 he said. "And it s no effort at all to me to pic 
 ture you as one of those who flitted through the 
 
124 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 shadows too sweet for words. I can see you 
 the heroine of whispering scenes on the stair. I 
 can see you walking with a dazzled happy man 
 on the mountain in the moonlight. Many men 
 have loved you." 
 
 "Are you reading my palm?" she asked, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 "No your face," answered Mr. Magee. 
 "Many men have loved you, for very few men are 
 blind. I am sorry I was not the man on the stair, 
 or on the mountain in the moonlight. Who knows 
 I might have been the favored one for my 
 single summer of joy." 
 
 "The autumn always came," smiled the girl. 
 
 "It would never have come for me," he an 
 swered. "Won t you believe me when I say that 
 I have no part in this strange drama that is going 
 on at Baldpate ? Won t you credit it when I say 
 that I have no idea why you and the professor 
 and Mr. Bland are here nor why the Mayor of 
 Reuton has the fifth key? Won t you tell me 
 what it all means ?" 
 
 "I mustn t," she replied, shaking her head. "I 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 125 
 
 can trust no one not even you. I mustn t believe 
 that you don t know it s preposterous. I must 
 say over and over even he is simply will you 
 pardon me flirting, trying to learn what he can 
 learn. I must." 
 
 "You can t even tell me why you wept in the 
 station ?" 
 
 "For a simple silly reason. I was afraid. I 
 had taken up a task too big for me by far 
 taken it up bravely when I was out in the sunlight 
 of Reuton. But when I saw Upper Asquewan 
 Falls, and the dark came, and that dingy station 
 swallowed me up, something gave way inside me 
 and I felt I was going to fail. So I cried. A 
 woman s way." 
 
 "If I were only permitted to help " Mr. Ma- 
 gee pleaded. 
 
 "No I must go forward alone. I can trust 
 no one, now. Perhaps things will change. I 
 hope they will." 
 
 "Listen," said Mr. Magee. "I am telling you 
 the truth. Perhaps you read a novel called The 
 Lost Limousine." He was resolved to claim its 
 
126 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 authorship, tell her of his real purpose in coming 
 to Baldpate, and urge her to confide in him re 
 garding the odd happenings at the inn. 
 
 "Yes," said the girl before he could continue, 
 f "I did read it. And it hurt me. It was so terribly 
 insincere. The man had talent who wrote it, but 
 he seemed to say: It s all a great big joke. I 
 don t believe in these people myself. I ve just 
 created them to make them dance for you. Don t 
 be fooled it s only a novel. I don t like that sort 
 of thing. I want a writer really to mean all he 
 says from the bottom of his heart." 
 
 Mr. Magee bit his lip. His determination to 
 claim the authorship of The Lost Limousine was 
 quite gone. 
 
 "I want him to make me feel with his people," 
 the girl went on seriously. "Perhaps I can explain 
 by telling you of something that happened to me 
 once. It was while I was at college. There was a 
 blind girl in my class and one night I went to call 
 on her. I met her in the corridor of her dormi 
 tory. Somebody had just brought her back from 
 an evening lecture, and left her there. She un 
 locked her door, and we went in. It was pitch 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 
 
 dark in the room the first thing I thought of 
 was a light. But she she just sat down and be 
 gan to talk. She had forgot to light the gas." 
 
 The girl paused, her eyes very wide, and it 
 seemed to Mr. Magee that she shivered slightly. 
 
 "Can you imagine it ?" she asked. "She chatted 
 on quite cheerfully as I remember it. And I I 
 stumbled round and fell into a chair, cold and 
 trembly and sick with the awful horror of blind 
 ness, for the first time in my life. I thought I 
 had imagined before what it was to be blind 
 just by shutting my eyes for a second. But as 
 I sat there in the blackness, and listened to that 
 girl chatter, and realized that it had never oc 
 curred to her to light a lamp then for the first 
 time I knew I knew." 
 
 Again she stopped, and Mr. Magee, looking at 
 her, felt what he had never experienced before 
 a thrill at a woman s near presence. 
 
 "That s what I ask of a writer," she said, "that 
 he make me feel for his people as I felt for that 
 girl that night. Am I asking too much ? It need 
 not be for one who is enmeshed in tragedy it 
 may be for one whose heart is as glad as a May 
 
128 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 morning. But he must make me feel. And he 
 can t do that if he doesn t feel himself, can he?" 
 
 William Hallowell Magee actually hung his 
 head. 
 
 "He can t/ he confessed softly. "You re quite 
 right I like you immensely more than I can 
 say. And even if you feel you can t trust me, I 
 want you to know that I m on your side in what 
 ever happens at Baldpate Inn. You have only to 
 ask, and I am your ally." 
 
 "Thank you," she answered. "I may be very 
 glad to ask. I shall remember." She rose and 
 moved toward the stairs. "We had better dis 
 perse now. The rocking-chair fleet will get us 
 if we don t watch out." Her small slipper was on 
 the first step of the stair, when they heard a door 
 slammed shut, and the sound of steps on the bare 
 floor of the dining-room. Then a husky voice 
 called "Bland". 
 
 Mr. Magee felt his hand grasped by a much 
 smaller one, and before he knew it he had been 
 hurried to the shadows of the landing. "The fifth 
 key," whispered a scared little voice in his ear. 
 And then he felt the faint brushing of finger-tips 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 129 
 
 across his lips. A mad desire seized him to grasp 
 those fingers and hold them on the lips they had 
 scarcely touched. But the impulse was lost in the 
 thrill of seeing the dining-room door thrown open 
 and a great bulk of a man cross the floor of the 
 office and stand beside Eland s chair. At his side 
 was a thin waif who had not unjustly been 
 termed the mayor of Reuton s shadow. 
 
 "Asleep," bellowed the big man. "How s this 
 for a watch-dog, Lou ?" 
 
 "Right on the job, ain t he?" sneered the thin 
 one. 
 
 Mr. Bland started suddenly from slumber, and 
 looked up into the eyes of the newcomers. 
 
 "Hello, Cargan," he said. "Hello, Lou. For 
 the love of heaven, don t shout so. The place is 
 full of them." 
 
 "Full of what?" asked the mayor. 
 
 "Of spotters, maybe I don t know what they 
 are. There s an old high-brow and a fresh young 
 guy, and two women." 
 
 "People," gasped the mayor. "Peoplehere ?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "You re asleep, Bland." 
 
130 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "No I m not, Cargan," cried the haberdasher. 
 "Look around for yourself. The inn s overrun 
 with them." 
 
 Cargan leaned weakly against a chair. 
 
 "Well, what do you know about that," he said. 
 "And they kept telling me Baldpate Inn was the 
 best place say, this is one on Andy Rutter. Why 
 didn t you get it out and beat it?" 
 
 "How could I?" Mr. Bland asked. "I haven t 
 got the combination. The safe was left open for 
 me. That was the agreement with Rutter." 
 
 "You might have phoned us not to come," re 
 marked Lou, with an uneasy glance around. 
 
 Mr. Cargan hit the mantelpiece with his huge 
 fist. 
 
 "By heaven, no," he cried. "I ll lift it from 
 under their very noses. I ve done it before x 
 can do it now. I don t care who they are. They 
 can t touch me. They can t touch Jim Cargan. I 
 ain t afraid." 
 
 Mr. Magee, on the landing, whispered into his 
 companion s ear. "I think I ll go down and greet 
 our guests." He felt her grasp his arm suddenly, 
 as though in fear, but he shook off her hand and 
 ^debonairly descended to the group below. , 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 131 
 
 "Good evening, gentlemen," he said suavely. 
 "Welcome to Baldpate! Please don t attempt to 
 explain we re fed up on explanations now. You 
 have the fifth key, of course. Welcome to our 
 small but growing circle." 
 
 The big man advanced threateningly. Mr. 
 Magee saw that his face was very red, his neck 
 very thick, but his mouth a cute little cupid s bow 
 that might well have adorned a dainty baby in the 
 park. 
 
 "Who are you?" bellowed the mayor of Reu- 
 ton in a tone meant to be cowering. 
 
 "I forget," replied Mr. Magee easily. "Bland, 
 who am I to-day? The cast-off lover of Arabella, 
 the fleeing artist, or the thief of portraits from a 
 New York millionaire s home ? Really, it doesn t 
 matter. We shift our stories from time to time. 
 As the first of the Baldpate hermits, however, it 
 is my duty to welcome you, which I hereby do." 
 
 The mayor pointed dramatically to the stair. 
 
 "I give you fifteen minutes," he roared, "to 
 pack up and get out. I don t want you here. Un 
 derstand?" 
 
 To Cargan s side came the slinking figure of 
 Lou Max. His face was the withered yellow of 
 
132 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 an old lemon; his garb suggested shop-windows 
 on dirty side streets; unpleasant eyes shifted be 
 hind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. His attitude 
 was that of the dog who crouches by its master. 
 
 "Clear out," he snarled. 
 
 "By no means," replied Magee, looking the 
 mayor squarely in the eye. "I was here first. 
 I m here to stay. Put me out, will you? Well, 
 perhaps, after a fight. But I d be back in an hour, 
 and with me whatever police Upper Asquewan 
 Falls owns to." 
 
 He saw that the opposing force wavered at this. 
 
 "I want no trouble, gentlemen," he went on. 
 "Believe me, I shall be happy to have your com 
 pany to dinner. Your command that I withdraw 
 is ill-timed, not to say ill-natured and impolite. 
 Let us all forget it." 
 
 The mayor of Reuton turned away, and his 
 dog slid into the shadows. 
 
 "Have I your promise to stay to dinner?" went 
 on Magee. No answer came from the trio in the 
 dusk. "Silence gives consent," he added gaily. 
 "You must excuse me while I dress. Bland, will 
 you inform Mr. Peters that we are to have com- 
 
THE SUMMER CROWD 133 
 
 pany to dinner ? Handle him gently. Emphasize 
 the fact that our guests are men." 
 
 He ran up the stairs. At the top of the second 
 flight he met the girl, and her eyes, he thought, 
 shone in the dark. 
 
 "Oh, I m so glad," she whispered. 
 
 "Glad of what?" asked Magee. 
 
 "That you are not on their side," she answered. 
 
 Mr. Magee paused at the door of number 
 seven. 
 
 "I should say not," he remarked. "Whatever 
 it s all about, I should say not. Put on your pret 
 tiest gown, my lady. I ve invited the mayor to 
 dinner." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 
 
 ONE summer evening, in dim dead days gone 
 by, an inexperienced head waiter at Bald- 
 pate Inn had attempted to seat Mrs. J. San 
 derson Clark, of Pittsburgh, at the same table 
 with the unassuming Smiths, of Tiffin. Ohio. 
 The remarks of Mrs. Clark, who was at 
 the time busily engaged in trying to 
 found a first family, lingered long in the 
 memory of those who heard them. So long, in 
 fact, that Miss Norton, standing with Mr. Magee 
 in the hotel office awaiting the signal from Peters 
 that dinner was ready, could repeat them almost 
 verbatim. Mr. Magee cast a humorous look 
 about. 
 
 "Lucky the manners and customs of the sum 
 mer folks aren t carried over into the winter," he 
 said. "Imagine a Mrs. Clark asked to sit at table 
 134 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 135 
 
 with the mayor of Reuton and his picturesque but 
 somewhat soiled friend, Mr. Max. I hope the 
 dinner is a huge success." 
 
 The girl laughed. 
 
 "The natural nervousness of a host," she re 
 marked. "Don t worry. The hermit and his tins 
 won t fail you." 
 
 "It s not the culinary end that worries me," 
 smiled Magee. "It s the repartee and wit. I 
 want the mayor to feel at home. Do you know 
 any good stories ascribed to Congressman Jones, 
 of the Asquewan district?" 
 
 Together they strolled to a window. The snow 
 had begun to fall again, and the lights of the little 
 hamlet below showed but dimly through the white 
 blur. 
 
 "I want you to know," said the girl, "that I 
 trust you now. And when the time comes, as it 1 
 will soon to-night I am going to ask you to 
 help me. I may ask a rather big thing, and ask 
 you to do it blindly, just trusting in me, as I re 
 fused to trust in you." She stopped and looked 
 very seriously into Mr. Magee s face. 
 
 "I m mighty glad," he answered in a low tone. 
 
136 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "From the moment I saw you weeping in the sta 
 tion I ve wanted to be of help to you. The sta 
 tion agent advised me not to interfere. He said 
 to become involved with a weeping woman meant 
 trouble. The fool. As though any trouble " 
 
 "He was right," put in the girl, "it probably 
 will mean trouble." 
 
 "As though any storm," finished Mr. Magee 
 "would not be worth the rainbow of your smile 
 at the end." 
 
 "A very fancy figure," laughed she. "But 
 storms aren t nice." 
 
 "There are a few of us," replied Magee, "who 
 can be merry through the worst of them because 
 of the rainbow to come." 
 
 For answer, she flattened her finely-modeled 
 nose into shapelessness against the cold pane. 
 Back of them in the candle-lighted room, the mot 
 ley crew of Baldpate s winter guests stood about 
 in various attitudes of waiting. In front of the 
 fire the holder of the Chair of Comparative Lit 
 erature quoted poetry to Mrs. Norton, and proba 
 bly it never occurred to the old man that the wom 
 an to whom he talked was that nightmare of his 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 137 
 
 life a peroxide blonde. Ten feet away in the 
 flickering half-light, the immense bulk of the 
 mayor of Reuton reposed on the arm of a leather 
 couch, and before him stood his lithe unpleasant 
 companion, Lou Max, side by side with Mr. 
 Bland, whose talk of haberdashery was forever 
 stilled. The candles sputtered, the storm angrily 
 rattled the windows ; Mr. Peters flitted like a hairy 
 wraith about the table. So the strange game that 
 was being played at Baldpate Inn followed the 
 example of good digestion and waited on appe 
 tite. 
 
 What Mr. Magee flippantly termed his dinner 
 party was seated at last, and there began a meal 
 destined to linger long in the memories of those 
 who partook if it. Puzzled beyond words, the 
 host took stock of his guests. Opposite him, at 
 the foot of the table, he could see the lined tired 
 face of Mrs. Norton, dazed, uncomprehending, a 
 little frightened. At his right the great red acre 
 age of Cargan s face held defiance and some 
 amusement; beside it sneered the cruel face of 
 Max ; beyond that Mr. Bland s countenance told a 
 story of worry and impotent anger. And on Mr, 
 
138 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Magee s left sat the professor, bearded, specta 
 cled, calm, seemingly undisturbed by this queer 
 flurry of events, beside the fair girl of the station 
 who trusted Magee at last. In the first few mo-! 
 ments of silence Mr. Magee compared her deli 
 cate features with the coarse knowing face of the 
 woman at the table s foot, and inwardly answered 
 "No." 
 
 Without the genial complement of talk the din 
 ner began. Mr. Peters appeared with another 
 variety of his canned soup, whereupon the silence 
 was broken by the gastronomic endeavors of Mr. 
 Max and the mayor. Mr. Magee was reflecting 
 that conversation must be encouraged, when Car- 
 gan suddenly spoke. 
 
 "I hope I ain t putting you folks out none," he 
 remarked with obvious sarcasm. "It ain t my 
 habit to drop in unexpected like this. But busi 
 ness" 
 
 "We re delighted, I m sure," said Mr. Magee 
 politely. 
 
 "I suppose you want to know why I m here," 
 the mayor went on. "Well " he hesitated 
 "it s like 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 139 
 
 "Dear Mr. Cargan," Magee broke in, "spare us, 
 I pray. And spare yourself. We have had ex 
 planations until we are weary. We have decided 
 to drop them altogether, and just to take it for 
 granted that, in the words of the song, we re here 
 because we re here." 
 
 "All right/ replied Cargan, evidently relieved. 
 "That suits me. I m tired explaining, anyhow. 
 There s a bunch of reformers rose up lately in 
 Reuton maybe you ve heard about em. A lovely 
 bunch. A white necktie and a half-portion of 
 brains apiece. They say they re going to do for 
 me at the next election." 
 
 Mr. Max laughed harshly from the vicinity of 
 his soup, 
 
 "They wrote the first joke book, them people," 
 he said. 
 
 "Well," went on Cargan, "there ain t nobody sa 
 insignificant and piffling that people won t listen 
 to em when they attack a man in public life. So 
 I ve had to reply to this comic opera bunch, and 
 as I say, I m about wore out explaining. I ve had 
 to explain that I never stole the town I used to 
 live in in Indiana, and that I didn t atick up my 
 
i 4 o SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 father with a knife. It gets monotonous. So I m 
 much obliged to you for passing the explanations 
 up. We won t bother you long, me and Lou. I 
 got a little business here, and then we ll mosey 
 along. We ll clear out about nine o clock." 
 
 "No," protested Magee. "So soon? We must 
 make it pleasant for you while you stay. I al 
 ways hate hosts who talk about their servants 
 I have a friend who bores me to death because he 
 has a Jap butler he believes was at Mukden. But 
 I think I am justified in calling your attention to 
 ours Mr. Peters, the Hermit of Baldpate Moun 
 tain. Cooking is merely his avocation. He is 
 writing a book." 
 
 "That guy," remarked Cargan, incredulous. 
 
 "What do you know about that?" asked Mr. 
 Bland. "It certainly will get a lot of hot adver 
 tising if it ever appears. It s meant to prove that 
 all the trouble in the world has been caused by 
 [woman." 
 
 The mayor considered. 
 
 "He s off he s nutty, that fellow," he an 
 nounced. "It ain t women that cause all of the 
 trouble." 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 141 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Cargan," said Miss Norton, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Anybody d know it to look at you, miss," re 
 plied the mayor in his most gallant manner. Then 
 he added hastily: "And you, ma am," with a 
 nod in the other woman s direction. 
 
 "I don t know as I got the evidence in my 
 face," responded Mrs. Norton easily, "but women 
 don t make no trouble, I know that. I think the 
 man s crazy,, myself, and I d tell him so if he 
 wasn t the cook." She paused, for Peters had 
 entered the room. There was silence while he 
 changed the courses. "It s getting so now you 
 can t say the things to a cook you can to a king," 
 she finished, after the hermit had retired. 
 
 "Ahem Mr. Cargan," put in Professor Bol< 
 ton, "you give it as your opinion that woman is no 
 trouble-maker, and I must admit that I agree with 
 your premise in general, although occasionally she 
 may cause a a slight annoyance. Undeniably, 
 there is a lot of trouble in the world. To whose 
 efforts do you ascribe it ?" 
 
 The mayor ran his thick fingers through his 
 hair. 
 
142 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I got you," he said, "and I got your answer, 
 too. Who makes the trouble? Who s made it 
 from the beginning of time? The reformers, Doc. 
 Yes, sir. Who was the first reformer? The snake 
 in the garden of Eden. This hermit guy proba 
 bly has that affair laid down at woman s door. 
 Not much. Everything was running all right 
 around the garden, and then the snake came along. 
 It s a twenty to one shot he d just finished a series 
 of articles on The Shame of Eden for a maga 
 zine. What d ye mean? he says to the woman, 
 by letting well enough alone? Things are all 
 wrong here. The present administration is run 
 ning everything into the ground. I can tell you a 
 few things that will open your eyes. What s that ? 
 What you don t know won t hurt you? The old 
 cry , he says, the old cry against which progres 
 sives got to fight/ he says. Wake up. You need 
 change here. Try this nice red apple, and you ll 
 see things the way I do. And the woman fell for 
 it. You know what happened." 
 
 "An original point of view," said the dazed 
 professor. 
 
 "Yes, Doc," went on Mr. Cargan, evidently on 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 143 
 
 a favorite topic, "it s the reformers that have 
 caused all the trouble, from that snake down. 
 Things are running smooth, folks all prosperous 
 and satisfied then they come along in their gum^ 
 shoes and white neckties. And they knock away 
 at the existing order until the public begins to be 
 lieve em and gives em a chance to run things. 
 What s the result ? The world s in a worse tangle 
 than ever before." 
 
 "You feel deeply on the subject, Mi . Argan," 
 remarked Magee. 
 
 "I ought to," the mayor replied. "I ain t no 
 writer, but if I was, I d turn out a book that 
 would drive this whiskered hermit s argument to 
 the wall. Woman bah! The only way women 
 make trouble is by falling for the reform gag." 
 
 Mr. Peters here interrupted with the dessert, 
 and through that course Mr. Cargan elaborated 
 on his theory. He pointed out how, in many 1 
 states, reform had interrupted the smooth flow of 
 life, set everything awhirl, and cruelly sent "the 
 boys" who had always been faithful out into the 
 cold world seeking the stranger, work. While he 
 talked, the eyes of Lou Max looked out at him, 
 
144 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 from behind the incongruous gold-rimmed glass 
 es, with the devotion of the dog to its master 
 clearly written in them. Mr. Magee had read 
 many articles about this picturesque Cargan who 
 had fought his way with his fists to the position 
 of practical dictator in the city of Reuton. The 
 story was seldom told without a mention of his 
 man Max Lou Max who kept the south end 
 of Reuton in line for the mayor, and in that low 
 neighborhood of dives and squalor made Car- 
 gan s a name to conjure with. Watching him 
 now, Mr. Magee marveled at this cheap crea 
 ture s evident capacity for loyalty. 
 
 "It was the reformers got Napoleon," the 
 mayor finished. "Yes, they sent Napoleon to an 
 island at the end. And him without an equal 
 since the world began." 
 
 "Is your begging your pardon is your his 
 tory just straight?" demurred Professor Bolton 
 timidly. 
 
 "Is it?" frowned Cargan. "You can bet it is. I 
 know Napoleon from the cradle to the grave. I 
 ain t an educated man, Doe I can hire all the 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 145 
 
 educated men I want for eighteen dollars a week 
 but I m up on Bonaparte." 
 
 "It seems to me/ Miss Norton put in, "I have 
 heard did I read it in a paper? that a picture 
 of Napoleon hangs above your desk. They say 
 that you see in your own career, a similarity to 
 his. May I ask is it true ?" 
 
 "No, miss," replied Cargan. "That s a joking 
 story some newspaper guy wrote up. It ain t got 
 no more truth in it than most newspaper yarns. 
 No, I ain t no Napoleon. There s lots of differ 
 ences between us one in particular." He raised 
 his voice, and glared at the company around the 
 table. "One in particular. The reformers got 
 Napoleon at the end." 
 
 "But the end is not yet," suggested Mr. Magee, 
 smiling. 
 
 Mr. Cargan gave him a sudden and interested 
 look. 
 
 "I ain t worrying," he replied. "And don t 
 you, young fellow." 
 
 Mr. Magee responded that he was not one to 
 indulge in needless worry, and a silence fell upon 
 
1 4 6 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 the group. Peters entered with coffee, and was 
 (engaged in pouring it when Mr. Bland started up 
 wildly from the table with an expression of alarm 
 [on his face. 
 
 "What s that?" he cried. 
 The others looked at him in wonder. 
 "I heard steps up-stairs," he declared. 
 "Nonsense," said Mr. Cargan, "you re drean> 
 ing. This peace and quiet has got to you, Bland.** 
 Without replying, Mr. Bland rose and ran up 
 the stair. In his absence the Hermit of Baldpate 
 spoke into Magee s ear. 
 
 "I ain t one to complain," he said ; "livin alone 
 as much as I do I ve sort of got out of the habit, 
 , having nobody to complain to. But if folks keep 
 coming and coming to this hotel, I ve got to re 
 sign as cook. Seems as though every few min 
 utes there s a new face at the table, and it s a 
 vital matter to me." 
 
 "Cheer up, Peters," whispered Mr. Magee. 
 "There are only two more keys to the inn. There 
 will be a limit to our guests." 
 
 "What I m getting at is," replied Mr. Peters, 
 there s a limit to my endurance." 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 147 
 
 Mr. Bland came down-stairs. His face was 
 very pale as he took his seat, but in reply to Car- 
 gan s question he remarked that he must have 
 been mistaken. 
 
 "It was the wind, I guess/ he said. 
 
 The mayor made facetious comment on Mr. 
 Bland s "skittishness", and Mr. Max also in 
 dulged in a gibe or two. These the haberdasher 
 met with a wan smile. So the dinner came to an 
 end, and the guests of Baldpate sat about while 
 Mr. Peters removed all traces of it from the table. 
 Mr. Magee sought to talk to Miss Norton, but 
 found her nervous and distrait. 
 
 "Has Mr. Bland frightened you?"- he asked. 
 
 She shook her head. "I have other things to 
 think of," she replied. 
 
 Mr. Peters shortly bade the company good-by 
 for the night, with the warmly expressed hope in 
 Mr. Magee s ear that there would be no further 
 additions to the circle in the near future. When 
 he had started off through the snow for his shack, 
 Mr. Cargan took out his watch. 
 
 "You ve been pretty kind to us poor wanderers 
 already," he said. "I got one more favor to ask. 
 
148 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 I come up here to see Mr. Bland. We got some 
 business to transact, and we d consider it a great 
 kindness if you was to leave us alone here in the 
 office." 
 
 Mr. Magee hesitated. He saw the girl nod her 
 Jaead slightly, and move toward the stairs. 
 
 "Certainly, if you wish," he said. "I hope you 
 won t go without saying good-by, Mr. Cargan." 
 
 "That all depends," replied the mayor. "I ve 
 enjoyed knowing you, one and all. Good night." 
 
 The women, the professor and Mr. Magee 
 moved up the broad stairway. On the landing 
 Mr. Magee heard the voice of Mrs. Norton, some 
 where in the darkness ahead. 
 
 "I m worried, dearie real worried." 
 
 "Hush," came the girl s voice. "Mr. Magee 
 we ll meet again soon." 
 
 Mr. Magee seized the professor s arm, and to 
 gether they stood in the shadows. 
 
 "I don t like the looks of things," came Eland s 
 hoarse complaint from below. "What time is it?" 
 
 "Seven-thirty," Cargan answered. "A good 
 half-hour yet." 
 
 "There was somebody on the second floor when 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 149 
 
 I went up," Bland continued. "I saw him run 
 into one of the rooms and lock the door." 
 
 "I ve got charge now," the mayor reassured 
 him, "don t you worry." 
 
 "There s something doing." This seemed to be 
 Max s voice. 
 
 "There sure is," laughed Cargan. "But what 
 do I care? I own young Drayton. I put him 
 where he is. I ain t afraid. Let them gumshoe 
 round as much as they want to. They can t touch 
 me." 
 
 "Maybe not," said Bland. "But Baldpate Inn 
 ain t the grand idea it looked at first, is it ?" 
 
 "It s a hell of an idea," answered Cargan. 
 There wasn t any need of all this folderol. I 
 told Hayden so. Does that phone ring?" 
 
 "No it ll just flash a light, when they want 
 us," Bland told him. 
 
 Mr. Magee and Professor Bolton continued 
 softly up the stairs, and in answer to the former s 
 invitation, the old man entered number seven and 
 took a chair by the fire. 
 
 "It is an amazing tangle," he remarked, "in 
 which we are involved. I have no idea what your 
 
150 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 place is in the scheme of things up here. But I as 
 sume you grasp what is going on, if I do not. I 
 am not so keen of wit as I once was." 
 
 "If you think," answered Mr. Magee, proffering 
 a cigar, "that I am in on this little game of Who s 
 Who , then you are vastly mistaken. As a matter 
 of fact, I am as much in the dark as you are." 
 
 The professor smiled. 
 
 "Indeed," he said in a tone that showed his un 
 belief. "Indefcd." 
 
 He was deep in a discussion of the meters of 
 the poet Chaucer when there came a knock at the 
 door, and Mr. Lou Max s unpleasant head was 
 thrust inside. 
 
 "I been assigned," he said, "to sit up here in the 
 hall and keep an eye out for the ghost Bland 
 heard tramping about. And being of a sociable 
 nature, I d like to sit in your doorway, if you 
 don t mind." 
 
 "By all means," replied Magee. "Here s a 
 chair. Do you smoke?" 
 
 "Thanks." Mr. Max placed the chair sidewise 
 in the doorway of number seven, and sat down. 
 From his place he commanded a view of Mr. Ma- 
 
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL 151 
 
 gee s apartments and of the head of the stairs. 
 With his yellow teeth he viciously bit the end 
 from the cigar. "Don t let me interrupt the con 
 versation, gentlemen," he pleaded. 
 
 "We were speaking," said the professor calm 
 ly, "of the versification of Chaucer. Mr. Ma- 
 gee-" 
 
 He continued his discussion in an even voice. 
 Mr. Magee leaned back in his chair and smiled in 
 a pleased way at the settings of the stage: Mr. 
 Max in a cloud of smoke on guard at his door; the 
 mayor and Mr. Bland keeping vigil by a telephone 
 switchboard in the office below, watching for the 
 flash of light that should tell them some one in the 
 outside world wanted to speak to Baldpate Inn; 
 a mysterious figure who flitted about in the dark ; 
 a beautiful girl who was going to ask Mr. Magee 
 to do her a service, blindly trusting her. 
 
 The professor droned on monotonously. Once 
 Mr. Magee interrupted to engage Lou Max in 
 spirited conversation. For, through the squares 
 of light outside the windows, he had seen the gir\ 
 of the station pass hurriedly down the balcony, 
 the snowflakes falling white on her yellow hair. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MR. MAX TELLS A TALE OF SUSPICION 
 
 AT hour passed. Mr. Max admitted when 
 pressed that a good cigar soothed the 
 soul, and accepted another from Magee s stock. 
 The professor continued to talk. Obviously it 
 was his favorite diversion. He seemed to be quot 
 ing from addresses; Mr. Magee pictured him on 
 a Chautauqua platform, the white water pitcher 
 by his side. 
 
 As he talked, Mr. Magee studied that portion 
 of his delicate scholarly face that the beard left 
 exposed to the world. What part had Thaddeus 
 Bolton, holder of the Crandall Chair of Compara 
 tive Literature, in this network of odd alarms? 
 Why was he at Baldpate? And why was he so 
 little moved by the rapid changes in the make-up 
 of the inn colony changes that left Mr. Magee 
 grasping? He took them as calmly as he would 
 152 
 
A TALE OF SUSPICION 153 
 
 take his grapefruit at the breakfast-table. Only 
 that morning Mr. Magee, by way of experiment, 
 had fastened upon him the suspicion of murder, 
 and the old man had not flickered an eyelash. Not 
 the least strange of all the strange figures that 
 floated about Baldpate, Mr. Magee reflected, was 
 this man who fiddled now with Chaucer while, 
 metaphorically, Rome burned. He could not make 
 it out 
 
 Mr. Max inserted a loud yawn into the profes 
 sor s discourse. 
 
 "Once I played chess with a German," he said, 
 "and another time I went to a lecture on purifying 
 politics, but I never struck anything so monoto 
 nous as this job I got now." 
 
 "So sorry," replied Magee, "that our company 
 bores you." 
 
 "No offense," remarked the yellow-faced one. 
 "I was just thinking as I set here how it all comes 
 of people being suspicious of one another. Now 
 I ve always held that the world would be a better 
 
 >lace if there wasn t no suspicion in it. Nine times 
 out of ten the suspicion ain t got a leg to stand 
 
 >n if suspicion can be said to have a leg." 
 
154 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Evidently Mr. Max desired the floor ; gracious 
 ly Professor Bolton conceded it to him. 
 
 "Speaking of suspicion," continued the drab 
 little man on the threshold, turning his cigar 
 thoughtfully between his thin lips, "reminds me 
 of a case told me by Pueblo Sam, a few years ago. 
 In some ways it s real funny, and in others it s 
 sad as hell. Pueblo Sam was called in them terms 
 because he d never been west of Sixth Avenue. 
 He was a swell refined gentleman who lived by 
 his wits, and he had considerable." 
 
 "A confidence man," suggested Magee. 
 
 "Something along that order," admitted Mr. 
 Max, "but a good sport among his friends, you 
 understand. Well, this case of suspicion Sam tells 
 me about happened something like this. One 
 scorching hot day in summer Sam gets aboard 
 the Coney boat, his idea being to put all business 
 cares away for an hour or two, and just float calm 
 and peaceful down the bay, and cool off. So he 
 grabs out a camp chair and hustles through the 
 crowd up to the top deck, beside the pilot s hang 
 out, and sits down to get acquainted with the 
 breeze, if such there was. 
 
A TALE OF SUSPICION 155 
 
 "Well, he d been sitting there about ten min 
 utes, Sam tells me, when along came about the 
 easiest picking that ever got loose from the old 
 homestead " 
 
 "I beg your pardon/ protested Professor Bol- 
 ton. 
 
 "The ready money, the loosened kale, the posies 
 in the garden waiting to be plucked," elucidated 
 Mr. Max. "This guy, Sam says, was such a per 
 fect rube he just naturally looked past him to see 
 if there was a trail of wisps of hay on the floor. 
 For a while Sam sits there with a grouch as he 
 thought how hard it was to put business aside and 
 get a little rest now and then, and debating 
 whether, being on a vacation, as it was, he d exert 
 himself enough to stretch forth his hand and take 
 whatever money the guy had. While he was argu j 
 ing the matter with himself, the jay settled the 
 question by coming over and sitting down near 
 him. 
 
 "He s in the city, he tells Sam, to enjoy the 
 moving pictures of the streets, and otherwise for 
 get the trees back home that grow the cherries in 
 trw bottom pf the cocktail glasses. And believe 
 
156 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 me/ he says to Sam, there ain t none of those 
 confidence men going to get me. I m too wise/ he 
 
 " Til bet money you are/ Sam tells him laugh 
 ing all over at the fish that was fighting to gtt into 
 the net 
 
 " Yes, siree/ says the last of the Mohicans, 
 they can t fool me. I can tell them as fur away 
 as I can see em, and my eyesight s perfect. One 
 of em comes up to me in City Hall park and tries 
 to sell me some mining stock. I guess he ain t re 
 covered yet from what I said to him. I tell you> 
 they can t fool Mark Dennen/ says the guy. 
 
 "Sam told me that at them words he just leaned 
 back in his seat and stared at the jay and whistled 
 under his breath. Years ago, it seemed, Sam had 
 lived in the town of Readsboro, Vermont, and run 
 tip and down the streets with one suspender and a 
 stone bruise, and the kid that had run with him 
 was Mark Dennen. And Sam says he looked at 
 this guy from the woods that was running round 
 crying to high heaven he needed a guardian, and 
 he sees that sure enough it was the tow-head Mark 
 Dennen and Sam told me something seemed 
 

 A TALE OF SUSPICION 157 
 
 to bust inside him, and he wanted to stretch out 
 his arms and hug this guy. 
 
 " Mark Dennen, shouts Sam, as I live. Of 
 Readsboro, Vermont. The kid I used to play with 
 under the arc lights don t you remember me? 
 
 "But Sam says the guy just looked him straight 
 in the eye, and shut his jaw, and says : I suppose 
 you ll be asking after my brother George next? 
 
 " You ain t got any brother George, you idiot/ 
 laughs Sam. He told me he was thinking how 
 he d treat his old friend Mark to a dinner that 
 would go down in history in Readsboro. Mark, 
 you pld rascal, 5 he says, don t you remember me 
 don t you remember little Sam Burns that used 
 to play andy-over with you, and that stole your 
 girl in 1892 ? Don t you remember the old days in 
 Readsboro ? He was all het up by this time, Sam 
 tells me, and all the old memories came creeping 
 back, and he kept thinking he never was so glad 
 to run across anybody in his life. You remember 
 little Sam Burns, don t you? he asks once more. 
 But this guy jftst looks back into Sam s eye, 
 ith his own cold as steel, and he says, says he: 
 You r e pretty clever, mister, but you don t fool 
 
158 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 me. No, you don t come any games on Mark 
 Dennen. 
 
 " But, Mark/ says Sam, I swear to you by all 
 that s holy that I m that kid I m Sam Burns. 
 What proof do you want ? Do you remember old 
 Ed Haywood that used to keep the drug store 
 right across from the post-office? The guy that 
 never washed his windows ? I do. And Miss Hunt 
 er that taught the sixth grade school when we went 
 there a little woman with washed-out gray eyes 
 and a broken front tooth ? And that pretty little 
 girl, Sarah somebody wait a minute, I ll get it or 
 bust Sarah Sarah Sarah Scott, you used to 
 be so sweet on ? Did you marry her, Mark ? And 
 old Lafe Perkins, who used to be on hand when 
 ever there was any repairs being made anywhere 
 rheumatism and a cane and a high squeaky 
 voice that he used to exercise giving orders about 
 things that wasn t any of his business. Why, 
 Mark, I remember em all. Good lord, man/ says 
 Sam, do you want any more proof ? 
 
 "But this country blockhead just looked Sam 
 up and down, and remarks judicious: It s cer 
 tainly wonderful how you know all these things. 
 
A TALE OF SUSPICION 159 
 
 Wonderful. But you can t fool me, he says, you 
 can t fool Mark Dennen. 
 
 Mr. Max paused in his narrative for a moment 
 The sound of voices came up from the office pf 
 Baldpate Inn. One, that of the mayor, boomed 
 loudly and angrily. In an evident desire to drown 
 it, Mr. Max went on with spirit : 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, it got to be a point of honor, 
 as you might say, for Sam to convince that guy. 
 He told me he never wanted anything so much in 
 his life as for Mark Dennen to give in. It was a 
 hot afternoon, and he d come aboard that boat for 
 a rest, but he peeled off his collar and started in. 
 He gave Mark Dennen the number of bricks in 
 the Methodist Church, as reported in the Reads- 
 bo ro Citizen at the time it was built. He told him 
 the name pf the piece Mark s sister recited at the 
 school entertainment In the spring of 1890. He 
 bounded on all four sides the lot where the cir 
 cuses played when they came to Readsboro. He 
 named every citizen of the town, living or dead, 
 that ever got to be known outside his own family, 
 and he brought children into the world and mar 
 ried them and read the funeral service over them, 
 
160 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 and still that bonehead from the woods sat there, 
 his mouth open, and says: It s beyond me how 
 you know all that You New Yorkers are slicker 
 then I give ye credit for. But you can t fool me^ 
 You ain t Sam Burns. Why, I went to school 
 with him. 
 
 "They was drawing near Coney now," went on 
 Mr. Max, "and Sam s face was purple and he was 
 dripping with perspiration, and rattling off Reads- 
 boro happenings at the rate of ten a second, but 
 that Mark Dennen he sat there and wouldn t 
 budge from his high horse. So they came up to 
 the pier, Sam almost weeping real tears and plead 
 ing like his heart would break : Mark, don t you 
 remember that time we threw little Bill Barnaby 
 into the swimming hole, and he couldn t swim a 
 stroke and nearly drowned on us? and still get 
 ting the stony face from his old pal. 
 
 "And on the pier this Dennen held out his hand 
 to Sam, who was a physical wreck and a broken 
 man by this time, and says : You sure are cute, 
 mister. I ll have great times telling this in Reads- 
 boro. Once you met one too smart for ye, eh? 
 Much obliged for your company, anyhow ! And 
 
A TALE OF SUSPICION 161 
 
 he went away and left Sam leaning against the 
 railing, with no faith in human nature no more. 
 I hope somebody got to him/ says Sam to me, 
 and got to him good. He s the kind that if you 
 work right you can sell stock in a company for- 
 starting roof gardens on the tops of the pyramids} 
 in Egypt. I d trimmed him myself, says Sam to 
 me, but I hadn t the heart/ " 
 
 Mr. Max finished, and again from below came 
 the sound of voices raised in anger. 
 
 "An interesting story, Mr. Max," commented 
 Professor Bolton. "I shall treasure it." 
 
 "Tpld with a remarkable feeling for detail," 
 added Mr. Magee. "In fact, it seems to me that 
 only one of the two participants in it could re 
 member all the fine points so well. Mr. Max, you 
 don t exactly look like Mark Dennen to me, there 
 fore if you will pardon the liberty" 
 
 "I get you," replied Max sadly. "The same old 
 story. Suspicion suspicion everywhere. It does 
 1 a lot of harm, believe me. I wouldn t " 
 
 He jumped from his chair and disappeared, for 
 the voice of Cargan had hailed him from below. 
 Mr. Magee and the professor with one accord fol- 
 
162 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 lowed. Hiding in the friendly shadows of the 
 landing once again, they heard the loud tones of 
 the mayor s booming voice, and the softer tones 
 of Eland s. 
 
 "How about this?" bellowed the mayor. "Hay- 
 den s squealed. Phones to Bland not to me. 
 Whines about the courts I don t know what rot. 
 He s squealed. He didn t phone the combination." 
 
 "The rat!" screamed Mr. Max. 
 
 "By the Lord Harry," said the mayor, "I ll 
 have it open, anyhow. I ve earned what s in 
 there, fair and I ve earned it I m going to 
 have it, Max." 
 
 "See here, Cargan " put in Mr. Bland. 
 
 "Keep out of the way, you," cried Cargan. 
 "And put away that pop-gun before you get hurt. 
 I m going to have what s mine by justice. That 
 safe comes open to-night. Max, get your satchel." 
 
 Mr. Magee and the professor turned and as 
 cended to the second floor. In front of number 
 seven they paused and looked into each other s 
 eyes. Professor Bolton shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "I m going to bed," he said, "and I advise you 
 to do the same." 
 
A TALE OF SUSPICION 163 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Magee, but had no idea 
 what he had said. As for the old man s advice, 
 he had no intention pf taking it. Melodrama 
 the thing he had come to Baldpate Inn to forget 
 forever raged through that home of solitude 
 Men spoke of guns, and swore, and threatened. 
 What was it all about ? And what part could he 
 play in it all ? 
 
 He entered number seven, and paused in amaze 
 ment. Outside one of his windows Miss Norton 
 stood, rapping on the glass for him to open. When 
 he stood facing her at last, the window no longer 
 between, he saw that her face was very pale and 
 that her chin trembled as it had in the station. 
 
 "What is it?" cried Magee. 
 
 "I mustn t come in," she answered. "Listen. 
 You said you wanted to help me. You can do so 
 now. I ll explain everything later this is all I 
 need tell you just at present. Down-stairs in the 
 safe there s a package containing two hundred 
 thousand dollars. Do you hear two hundred 
 thousand. I must have that package. Don t 
 ask me why. I came here to get it I must 
 have it. The combination was to have been 
 
164 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 phoned to Cargan at eight o clock. I was hiding 
 outside the window. Something went wrong 
 they didn t phone it. He s going to open the safe 
 by force. I heard him say so. I couldn t wait to 
 hear more I saw him." 
 
 "Who?" asked Mr. Magee. 
 
 "I don t know a tall black figure hiding out 
 side a window like myself. The man with one of 
 the other keys, I suppose. The man Mr. Bland 
 heard walking about to-night. I saw him and I 
 was terribly frightened. It s all right when you 
 know who the other fellow is, but when it s ail 
 so creepy I was afraid. So I ran here." 
 
 "The thing to do," approved Mr. Magee. 
 "Don t worry. I ll get the money for you. I ll 
 get it if I have to slay the city administration of 
 Reuton in its tracks." 
 
 "You trust me?" asked the girl, with a little 
 catch in her voice. The snow lay white on her 
 hair; even in the shadows her eyes suggested 
 June skies. "Without knowing who I am, or 
 why I must have this money you ll get it for 
 me?" 
 
 "Some people," said Mr. Magee, "meet aif their 
 
A TALE OF SUSPICION 165 
 
 lives long at pink little teas, and never know one 
 another, while others just smile at each other 
 across a station waiting-room that s enough." 
 
 "I m so glad," whispered the girl. "I never 
 dreamed I d meet any one like you up here. 
 Please, oh, please, be very careful. Neither Car- 
 gan nor Max is armed. Bland is. I should never 
 forgive myself if you were hurt. But you won t 
 be will you?" 
 
 "I may catch cold," laughed Mr. Magee ; "oth 
 erwise I ll be perfectly safe." He went into the 
 room and put on a gay plaid cap. "Makes me 
 look like Sherlock Holmes," he smiled at the girl 
 framed in the window. When he turned to his 
 door to lock it, he discovered that the key was 
 gone and that it had been locked on the outside. 
 "Oh, very well," he said flippantly. He buttoned 
 his coat to the chin, blew out the candles in num 
 ber seven, and joined the girl on the balcony. 
 
 "Go to your room," he said gently. "Your 
 worries are over. I ll bring you the golden fleece 
 inside an hour." 
 
 "Be careful," she whispered. "Be very care 
 ful, Mr. Billy." 
 
166 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Just for that," cried Magee gaily, "I ll get 
 you four hundred thousand dollars." 
 
 He ran to the end of the balcony, and dropping 
 >oftly to the ground, was ready for his first ex-* 
 periinent in the gentle art of highway robbery. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 
 
 THE justly celebrated moon that in summer 
 months shed so much glamour on the ro 
 mances of Baldpate Inn was no where in evidence 
 as Mr. Magee crept along the ground close to the 
 veranda. The snow sifted down upon him out 
 of the blackness above; three feet ahead the 
 world seemed to end. 
 
 "A corking night," he muttered humorously, 
 "for my debut in the hold-up business." 
 
 He swung up over the rail on to the veranda, 
 and walked softly along it until he came to a win 
 dow opening into the office. Cautiously he peered 
 in. The vast lonely room was lighted by a single 
 candle. At the foot of the broad stair he could 
 discern a great bulk, seated on the lowest step^ 
 which he correctly took to be the mayor of Reu- 
 ton. Back of the desk, on which stood the candle, 
 Mr. Max s head and shoulders were visible. He 
 
 167 
 
168 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 was working industriously in the immediate vicin 
 ity of the safe door. Occasionally he consulted 
 the small traveling-bag that stood on the desk. 
 Many other professions had claimed Mr. Max be 
 fore his advent into Reuton politics ; evidently he 
 was putting into operation the training acquired 
 in one of them. Mr. Bland was nowhere in sight. 
 
 Shivering with cold and excitement, Mr. Magee 
 leaned against the side of Baldpate Inn and 
 waited. Mr. Max worked eagerly, turning fre 
 quently to his bag as a physician might turn 
 to his medicine-case. No word was spoken in the 
 office. Minutes passed. The bulk at the foot of 
 the stairs surged restlessly. Mr. Max s opera 
 tions were mostly hidden by the desk at which, 
 in summer, timid old ladies inquired for their 
 mail. Having time to think, Mr. Magee pictured 
 the horror of those ladies could they come up to 
 the desk at Baldpate now. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Max ran out into the center of 
 the office. Almost on the instant there was a 
 white puff of smoke and a roar. The inn seemed 
 about to roll down the mountain after all those 
 ytars of sticking tight. The mayor looked appre* 
 

 MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 169 
 
 hensively up the stair behind him ; Mr. Max ran 
 to the open safe door and came back before the 
 desk with a package in his hand. After examin 
 ing it hastily, Mr. Cargan placed the loot in his 
 pocket. The greedy eyes of Max followed it for 
 a second ; then he ran over and gathered up his 
 tools. Now they were ready to depart. The 
 mayor lifted the candle from the desk. Its light 
 fell on a big chair by the fire, and Mr. Magee saw 
 in that chair the figure of Mr. Bland, bound and 
 gagged. 
 
 Mr. Cargan and his companion paused, and ap 
 peared to address triumphant and jesting com 
 ment in Mr. Eland s direction. Then they but 
 toned their coats and, holding aloft the candle, 
 disappeared through the dining-room door. 
 
 "I must have that package." Standing on the 
 balcony of Baldpate Inn, her yellow hair white 
 with snow, her eyes shining even in shadow, thus 
 ( had the lady of this weird drama spoken to Mr. 
 ^ Magee. And gladly he had undertaken the quest. 
 Now, he knew, the moment had come to act. Max 
 he could quickly dispose pf, he felt; Cargan 
 would require time and attention. 
 
170 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 He hurried round to the front door of the inn, 
 and taking the big key from his pocket, unlocked 
 it as a means of retreat where the men he was 
 about to attack could not follow. Already he 
 heard their muffled steps in the distance. Crpss- 
 ing the veranda, he dropped down into the snow 
 by the side of the great stone steps that led to 
 Baldpate Inn s chief entrance. 
 
 He heard Cargan and Max on the veranda 
 just above his head. They were speaking of trains 
 to Reuton. In great good humor, evidently, they 
 started down the steps. Mr. Magee crouched, re 
 solved that he would spring the moment they 
 reached the ground. They were on the last step- 
 now! 
 
 Suddenly from the other side of the steps a 
 black figure rose, a fist shot out, and Mr. Max 
 went spinning like a whirling dervish down the 
 snowy path, to land in a heap five feet away. The 
 next instant the mayor of Reuton and the black 
 figure were locked in terrific conflict. Mr. Magee, 
 astounded by this turn of affairs, could only stand 
 and stare through the dark. 
 
 For fifteen seconds, muttering, slipping, grap- 
 
MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 171 
 
 pling, the two figures waltzed grotesquely about 
 in the falling snow. Then the mayor s feet slid 
 from under him on the treacherous white carpet, 
 and the two went down together. As Mr. Magee 
 swooped down upon them he saw the hand of the 
 stranger find the mayor s pocket, and draw from 
 it the package that had been placed there in the 
 office a few moments before. 
 
 Unfortunately for the demands of the drama in 
 which he had become involved, Mr. Magee had 
 never been an athlete at the university. But he 
 was a young man of average strength and agility, 
 and he had the advantage of landing most unex 
 pectedly on his antagonist. Before that gentle 
 man realized what had happened, Magee had 
 wrenched the package from his hand, thrown him 
 back on the prostrate form of the highest official 
 pf Reuton, and fled up the steps. Quickly the 
 stranger regained his feet and started in pursuit, 
 but he arrived at the great front door of Baldpate 
 Ian just in time to hear the lock click inside. 
 
 Safe for the moment behind a locked door, Mr. 
 Magee paused to get his breath. The glory of 
 battle filled his soul. It was not until long after- 
 
172 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 ward that he realized the battle had been a mere 
 scuffle in the dark. He felt his cheeks burn with 
 excitement like a sweet girl graduate s the 
 cheeks of a man who had always prided himself 
 he was the unmoved cynic in any situation. 
 
 With no thought for Mr. Bland, bound in his 
 uneasy chair, Mr. Magee hurried up the broad 
 staircase of Baldpate. Now came the most gor 
 geous scene of all. A fair-haired lady; a knight 
 she had sent forth to battle ; the knight returned. 
 "You asked me to bring you this, my lady." Busi 
 ness of surprise and joy on the lady s part busi 
 ness also, perhaps, of adoration for the knight. 
 
 At the right of the stairs lay seventeen and the 
 lady, at the left a supposedly uninhabited land. 
 As Mr. Magee reached the second floor, blithely 
 picturing the scene in which he was to play so sat 
 isfactory a part he paused. For half-way down 
 the corridor to the left an open door threw a faint 
 light into the hall, and in that light stood a woman 
 he had never seen before. In this order came Mr. 
 Magee s impressions of her, fur-coated, tall, dark, 
 handsome, with the haughty manner of one en 
 gaging a chauffeur. 
 
MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 173 
 
 "I beg your pardon," she said, "but are you by 
 any chance Mr. Magee ?" 
 
 The knight leaned weakly against the wall, and 
 tried to think. 
 
 "I I am," he managed to say. 
 
 "I m so glad I ve found you," replied the girL 
 It seemed to the dazed Magee that her dark eyes 
 were not overly happy. "I can not ask you in, I m 
 afraid. I do not know the custom on such an oc 
 casion does anybody ? I am alone with my maid. 
 Hal Bentley, when I wrote to him for a key to 
 this place, told me of your being here, and said 
 that I was to put myself under your protection." 
 
 Mr. Magee arranged a bow, most of which was 
 lost in the dark. 
 
 "Delighted, I m sure," he murmured. 
 
 "I shall try not to impose on you," she went on. 
 "The whole affair is so unusual as to be almost 
 absurd. But Mr. Bentley said that you were 
 very kind. He said I might trust you. I am in 
 great trouble. I have come here to get something 
 and I haven t the least idea how to proceed. I 
 came because I must have it so much depends 
 on it." 
 
174 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Prophetically Mr. Magee clutched in his pocket 
 the package for which he had done battle. 
 
 "I may be too late." The girl s eyes grew wide. 
 "That would be terribly unfortunate. I do not 
 wish you to be injured serving me " She low 
 ered her voice. "But if there is any way in which 
 you can help me in in this difficulty I can 
 never be grateful enough. Down-stairs in the safe 
 there is, I believe, a package containing a large 
 sum of money." 
 
 Mr. Magee s hand closed convulsively in his 
 pocket. 
 
 "If there is any way possible," said the girl, "I 
 must obtain that package. I give you my word I 
 have as much right to it as any one who will ap 
 pear at the inn. The honor and happiness of one 
 who is very dear to me is involved. I ask you 
 made bold as I am by my desperation and Hal 
 Bentley s assurances to aid me if you find you 
 
 can." 
 
 With the eyes of a man in a dream Mr. Magee 
 looked v into the face of the latest comer to Bald- 
 pate. 
 
 "Hal Bently is an old friend and a bully chap/ 
 
MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 175 
 
 he said. "It will be a great pleasure to serve a 
 friend of his/* He paused, congratulating him 
 self that these were words, idle words. "When 
 did you arrive, may I ask?" 
 
 "I believe you were having dinner when I 
 came," she answered. "Mr. Bentley gave me a 
 key to the kitchen door, and we found a back 
 stairway. There seemed to be a company below 
 I wanted to see only you." 
 
 "I repeat," said Mr. Magee, "I shall be happy 
 to help you, if I can." His word to another lady, 
 he reflected, was binding. "I suggest that there 
 is no harm in waiting until morning." 
 
 "But I am afraid it was tp-night " she be 
 gan. 
 
 "I understand," Magee replied. "The plans 
 went wrong. You may safely let your worries 
 rest until to-morrow." He was on the point of 
 adding something about relying on him, but re 
 membered in time which girl he was addressing. 
 "Is there anything I can do to make you more 
 comfortable?" 
 
 The girl drew the fur coat closer about her 
 shoulders. She suggested to Magee a sheltered 
 
176 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 luxurious life he could see her regaling young 
 men with tea before a fireplace in a beautiful 
 room insipid tea in thimble-like cups. 
 
 "You are very kind," she said. "I hardly ex- 
 pected to be here the night through. It is rather 
 cold, but I am sure we have rugs and soats 
 enough," 
 
 Mr. Magee s duty was clear. 
 
 "I ll build you a fire," he announced. The girl 
 seemed distressed at the thought. 
 
 "No, I couldn t let you," she said. "I am sure 
 it isn t necessary. I will say good night now." 
 
 "Good night. If there is anything I can do " 
 
 "I shall tell you," she finished, smiling. "I be 
 lieve I forgot to give you my name. I am Myra 
 Thornhill, of Reuton. Until to-morrow." She 
 went in and closed the door. 
 
 Mr. Magee sat limply down on the cold stair. 
 All the glory was gone from the scene he had pic 
 tured a moment ago. He had the money, yes, the 
 money procured in valiant battle, but at the mo 
 ment he bore the prize to his lady, another ap 
 peared from the dark to claim it. What should 
 he do? 
 
MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 177 
 
 He got up and started for number seventeen. 
 The girl who waited there was very charming and 
 attractive but what did he know about her? 
 What did she want with this money ? He paused. 
 This other girl came from Hal Bentley, a friend 
 of friends. And she claimed to have every right 
 to this precious package. What were her exact 
 words ? 
 
 Why not wait until morning ? Perhaps, in the 
 cold gray dawn, he would see more clearly his way 
 through this preposterous tangle. Anyhow, it 
 would be dangerous to give into any woman s 
 keeping just then a package so earnestly sought by 
 desperate men. Yes, he would wait until morn 
 ing. That was the only reasonable course. 
 
 Reasonable? That was the word he used. A 
 knight prating of the reasonable! 
 
 Mr. Magee unlocked the door of number seven 
 and entered. Lighting his candles and prodding 
 the fire, he composed a note to the waiting girl in 
 seventeen : 
 
 "Everything all right. Sleep peacefully. I am 
 on the job. Will see you to-morrow. Mr.- 
 Billy. 
 
178 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Slipping this message under her door, the ex- 
 knight hurried away to avoid an interview, and 
 sat down in his chair before the fire. 
 
 "I must think/ he muttered. "I must get thi 
 thing straight." 
 
 For an hour he pondered, threshing out as best 
 he could this mysterious game in which he played 
 a leading part unequipped with a book of rules. 
 He went back to the very beginning even to the 
 station at Upper Asquewan Falls where the unde 
 niable charm of the first of these girls had won 
 him completely. He reviewed the arrival of 
 Bland and his babble of haberdashery, of Pro 
 fessor Bolton and his weird tale of peroxide 
 blondes and suffragettes, of Miss Norton and her 
 impossible mother, of Cargan, hater of reform 
 ers, and Lou Max, foe of suspicion. He thought 
 of the figure in the dark at the foot of the steps 
 that had fought so savagely for the package now 
 in his own pocket of the girl who had pleaded 
 so convincingly on the balcony for his help of 
 the colder, more sophisticated woman who came 
 with Hal Bentley s authority to ask of him the 
 
MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 179 
 
 same favor. Myra Thornhill ? He had heard the 
 name, surely. But where ? 
 
 Mr. Magee s thoughts went back to New York. 
 He wondered what they would say if they could 
 see him now, whirling about in a queer romance 
 not of his own writing he who had come to 
 Baldpate Inn to get away from mere romancing 
 and look into men s hearts, a philosopher. He 
 laughed out loud. 
 
 "To-morrow is another day," he reflected. "II* 
 solve this whole thing then. They can t go or 
 playing without me I ve got the ball." 
 
 He took the package from his pocket. Its seals 
 had already been broken. Untying the strings, he 
 began carefully to unwrap the paper the thick 
 yellow banking manila, and then the oiled inner 
 wrapping. So finally he opened up the solid mass 
 of what? He looked closer. Crisp, beautiful, 
 one thousand dollar bills. Whew ! He had never 
 seen a bill of this size before. And here were two 
 hundred of them. 
 
 He wrapped the package up once more, and pre 
 pared for bed. Just as he was about to retire, he 
 
i8o SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 remembered Mr. Bland, bound and gagged below. 
 He went into the hall with the idea of releasing 
 the unlucky haberdasher, but from the office rose 
 the voices of the mayor, Max, and Bland himself. 
 Peace, evidently, had been declared between them. 
 Mr. Magee returned to number seven, locked all 
 the windows, placed the much-sought package be 
 neath his pillow, and after a half-hour of puzzling 
 and tossing, fell asleep. 
 
 It was still quite dark when he awoke with a 
 start In the blackness he could make out a fig 
 ure standing by the side of his bed. He put his 
 hand quickly beneath his pillow ; the package was 
 still there. 
 
 "What do you want?" he asked, sitting up in 
 bed. 
 
 For answer, the intruder sprang through the 
 door and disappeared in the darkness of the outer 
 room. Mr. Magee followed. One of his win 
 dows slammed back and forth in the wind. Slip 
 ping on a dressing-gown and lighting a candle, he 
 made an investigation. The glass above the lock 
 had been broken. Outside, in the snow on the bal 
 cony, were recent footprints. 
 
MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 181 
 
 Sleepily Mr. Magee procured the precious pack 
 age and put it in the pocket of his gown. Then 
 drawing on his shoes, he added a greatcoat to 
 his equipment, took a candle, and went out on to 
 the balcony. 
 
 -The storm had increased ; the snow flurried and 
 blustered; the windows of Baldpate Inn rattled 
 wildly all about. It was difficult to keep the can 
 dle burning in that wind. Mr. Magee followed 
 the footprints along the east side of the inn to the 
 corner, then along the more sheltered rear, and 
 finally to the west side. On the west was a rather 
 unlovely annex to the main building, which in 
 creasing patronage had made necessary. It was 
 connected with the inn by a covered passageway 
 from the second floor balcony. At the entrance 
 to this passageway the footprints stopped. 
 
 Entering the dark passageway, Mr. Magee 
 made his way to the door of the annex. He tried 
 it. It was locked. But as he turned away, he 
 heard voices on the other side. 
 
 Mr. Magee had barely enough time to extin 
 guish his candle and slip into the shadows of the 
 corner. The door of the annex opened. A man 
 
182 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 stepped out into the passageway. He stood there, 
 The light from a candle held by some one in the 
 doorway whom Mr. Magee could not see fell full 
 upon his face the bespectacled wise face of Pro 
 fessor Thaddeus Bolton. 
 
 "Better luck next time," said the professor. 
 
 "Keep an eye pn him," said the voice from in 
 side. "If he tries to leave the inn there ll be a 
 big row. We must be in on it and win." 
 
 "I imagine," said Professor Bolton, smiling his 
 academic smile, "that the inmates of Baldpate 
 will make to-morrow a rather interesting day for 
 him." 
 
 "It will be an interesting day for every one," 
 answered the voice. 
 
 "If I should manage to secure the package, by 
 any chance," the professor went on, "I shall un 
 doubtedly need your help in getting away with it. 1 
 Let us ai range a signal. Should a window of my 
 room be open at any time to-morrow, you will* 
 know the money is in my hands." 
 
 "Very good," replied the other. "Good night 
 and good luck." 
 
 "The same to you," answered Professor Bol- 
 
MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW 183 
 
 ton. The door was closed, and the old man 
 moved off down the passageway. 
 
 After him crept Mr. Magee. He followed the 
 professor to the east balcony, and saw him pause 
 at the open window of number seven. There the 
 old man looked slyly about, as though in doubt. 
 He peered into the room, and one foot was across 
 the sill when Mr. Magee came up and touched 
 him on the arm. 
 
 Professor Bolton leaped in evident fright out 
 upon the balcony. 
 
 "It s it s a wonderful night," he said. "I 
 was out for a little walk on the balcony, enjoying 
 it Seeing your open window, I was afraid " 
 
 "The night you speak so highly of," replied 
 Mr. Magee, "is at your left. You have lost your 
 way. Good night, Professor." 
 
 He stepped inside and closed the window. Then 
 he pulled down the curtains in both rooms of his 
 suite, and spent some time exploring. Finally 
 he paused before the fireplace, and with the aid 
 of a knife unloosed a brick. Under this he placed 
 the package of money, removing the traces of 
 his act as best he could. 
 
184 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Now," he said, standing up, "I m a regular 
 hermit with a buried treasure, as per all hermit 
 specifications. To-morrow I m going to hand my 
 treasure to somebody it s too much for a ma 
 who came up here to escape the excitement aAdj 
 melodrama of the world." 
 
 He looked at his watch. It was past three 
 o clock. Entering the inner room, for the second 
 time that night he sought to sleep. "They can t 
 play without me I ve got the ball," he repeated 
 with a smile. And, safe in this thought, he closed 
 his eyes, and slumbered. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE COLD GRAY DAWN 
 
 THE gayest knight rmst have a morning af 
 ter. Mr. Magee awakened to his to find 
 suite seven wrapped again in its favorite polar 
 atmosphere. Filling the door leading to the outer 
 room, he beheld the cause of his awakening the 
 mayor of Reuton. Mr. Cargan regarded him with 
 the cold steely eye of a Disraeli in action, but 
 when he spoke he opened the jaws of a cocktail 
 mixer. 
 
 "Well, young fellow," he remarked, "it seems 
 to me it was time you got up and faced the re 
 sponsibilities of the day. First of which, I may 
 mention, is a little talk with me." 
 
 He stepped into the room, and through the 
 doorway he vacated Mr. Max came slinking. 
 The unlovely face of the foe of suspicion was 
 badly bruised, and he looked upon the world with 
 
186 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 no cheerful eye. Pushing aside one of the frail 
 bedroom chairs as untrustworthy, the mayor sat 
 down on the edge of Mr. Magee s bed. It creaked 
 in protest. 
 
 "You used us pretty rough last night in the 
 snow," Cargan went on. "That s why I ain t dis 
 posed to go in far kid gioves and diplomacy this 
 morning. It s my experience that when you re 
 dealing with a man who s got the good old Irish 
 name of Magee, it s best to hit first and debate 
 afterward." 
 
 "I I used you roughly, Mr. Cargan?" said 
 Magee. 
 
 "No debate, mind you," protested the mayor. 
 "Lou and me are making this morning call to in 
 quire after a little package that went astray some 
 where last night. There s two courses open to 
 you hand over the package or let us take it. 
 I ll give you a tip the first is the best. If we 
 have to take it, we might get real rough in our ac 
 tions." 
 
 Mr. Max slipped closer to the bed, an ugly look 
 on his face. The mayor glared fixedly into Ma- 
 gee s eyes. The knight who fought for fair ladies 
 
THE COLD GRAY DAWN 187 
 
 in the snow lay on his pillow and considered 
 briefly. 
 
 "I get what I go after," remarked Cargan em 
 phatically. 
 
 "Yes," sparred Magee, "but the real point is 
 keeping what you get after you ve gone after it. 
 You didn t make much of an impression on me 
 last night in that line, Mr. Cargan." 
 
 "I never cared much for humor," replied the 
 mayor, "especially at this early hour of the morn 
 ing." 
 
 "And I hate a fresh guy," put in Max, "like 
 poison." 
 
 "I m not fresh," Mr. Magee smiled, "I m stat 
 ing facts. You say you ve come for that pack 
 age. All right but you ve come to the wrong 
 room. I haven t got it." 
 
 "The hell you haven t," roared the mayor. 
 "Lou, look about a bit." 
 
 "Look about all you like," agreed Magee. "You 
 won t find it. Mr. Cargan, I admit that I laid 
 for you last night. I saw you open the safe ac 
 cording to the latest approved methods, and I saw 
 you come forth with a package of money. But I 
 
i88 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 wasn t rough with you. I might have been, to be 
 frank, but somebody beat me to it." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 , "The man with the seventh key, I suppose. 
 The man Bland heard walking about last night 
 when we were at dinner. Don t tell me you didn t 
 see him in that mix-up at the foot of the steps?" 
 
 "Well I did think there was another guy," 
 the mayor answered, "but Lou said I was crazy." 
 
 "Lou does you an injustice. There was an 
 other guy, and if you are anxious to recover your 
 precious package, I advise you to wake him up 
 to the responsibilities of the day, not me." 
 
 The mayor considered. Mr. Max, who had 
 hastily made the rounds of the three rooms, came 
 back with empty hands. 
 
 "Well," said the mayor, "I might as well admit 
 it. I m up in the air. I don t know just at this 
 minute where to get off. But that state of 
 affairs don t last long with me, young fellow. 
 I ll go to the bottom of this before the day 
 is out, believe me. And if I can t do anything 
 else, I ll take you back to Reuton myself and 
 throw you in jail for robbery." 
 
THE COLD GRAY DAWN 189 
 
 "I wouldn t do that," smiled Magee. "Think 
 of the awful job of explaining to the white neck 
 tie crowd how you happened to be dynamiting a 
 safe on Baldpate Mountain at midnight." 
 
 "Oh, I guess I can get around that," said the 
 mayor. "That money belongs to a friend of mine 
 Andy Rutter. I happen to go to the inn for 
 a little rest, and I grab you dynamiting the safe. 
 1*11 keep an eye on you to-day, Mr. Magee. And 
 let me tell you now that if I catch you or any of 
 the bunch that s with you trying to make a get 
 away from Baldpate, there s going to be a war 
 break out." 
 
 "I don t know about the other hermits," 
 laughed Magee, "but personally, I expect to be 
 here for several weeks to come. Whew ! It s cold 
 in here. Where s the hermit? Why hasn t he 
 been up to fix my fire ?" 
 
 "Yes, where is he?" repeated Mr. Cargan. 
 "That s what everybody d like to know. He 
 hasn t showed up. Not a sign of breakfast, and 
 me as hollow as a reformer s victory." 
 
 "He s backslid," cried Magee. 
 
 "The quitter," sneered Max. "It s only a 
 
190 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 quitter would live on the mountain in a shack, 
 anyhow." 
 
 "You re rather hard on poor old Peters," re- 
 narked Magee, "but when I think that I have 
 to get up and dress in a refrigerating plant I 
 can t say I blame you. If only the fire were 
 lighted" 
 
 He smiled his most ingratiating smile on his 
 companion. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Cargan, you re up and 
 dressed. I ve read a lot of magazine articles 
 about you, and they one and all agree that you re 
 a good fellow. You ll find kindling and paper 
 beside the hearth." 
 
 "What!" The mayor s roar seemed to shake 
 the windows. "Young man, with a nerve like 
 yours, you could wheedle the price of a battle 
 ship from Carnegie. I I " He stood for a 
 moment gazing almost in awe at Magee. Then 
 he burst forth into a whole-souled laugh. "I am 
 a good fellow," he said. "I ll show you." 
 
 He went into the other room, and despite the 
 horrified protests of Lou Max, busied himself 
 amid the ashes of the fireplace. When he had 
 
THE COLD GRAY DAWN 191 
 
 a blaze under way, Mr. Magee came shivering 
 from the other room and held out his hand. 
 
 "Mr. Cargan," he laughed, "you re a prince." 
 He noted with interest that the mayor s broad 
 shoes were mighty near two hundred thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 While Mr. Magee drew on his clothes, the 
 mayor and Max sat thoughtfully before the fire, 
 the former with his pudgy hands folded over the 
 vast expanse where no breakfast reposed. Mr. 
 Magee explained to them that the holder of the 
 sixth key had arrived. 
 
 "A handsome young lady," he remarked ; "her 
 name is Myra Thornhill." 
 
 "Old Henry Thornhill s daughter," reflected 
 the mayor. "Well, seems I ve sort of lost the 
 habit of being surprised now. I tell you, Lou, 
 we re breaking into the orchid division up here." 
 
 While Mr. Magee shaved in ice-cold water, 
 another black mark against the Hermit of Bald- 
 pate he turned over in his mind the events of 
 the night before. The vigil in the office, the plead 
 ing of the fair girl on the balcony, the battle by 
 the steps, the sudden appearance of Miss Thorn- 
 
I 9 2 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 hill, the figure in his room, the conversation by 
 the annex door like a moving picture film the 
 story of that weird night unrolled itself. The film 
 was not yet at an end. He had given himself the 
 night to think. Soon he would stand before the 
 girl of the station ; soon he must answer her ques 
 tions. What was he to do with the fortune that 
 lay beneath the feet of the mayor of Reuton at 
 this minute ? He hardly knew. 
 
 He was ready to descend at last, and came into 
 the parlor of his suite with greatcoat and hat. In 
 reply to Mr. Cargan s unasked question, he said : 
 
 "I m going up the mountain presently to reason 
 with our striking cook." 
 
 "You ain t going to leave this inn, Magee," 
 said the mayor. 
 
 "Not even to bring back a cook. Come, Mr. 
 Cargan, be reasonable. You may go with ine, if 
 ,you suspect my motives." 
 
 They went out into the hall, and Mr. Magee 
 passed down the corridor to the farther end, 
 where he rapped on the door of Miss Thornhill s 
 room. She appeared almost immediately, buried 
 beneath furs and wraps. 
 
THE COLD GRAY DAWN 193 
 
 "You must be nearly frozen," remarked Mr. 
 Magee pityingly. "You and your maid come 
 down to the office. I want you to meet the other 
 guests." 
 
 "I ll come," she replied. "Mr. Magee, I ve a 
 confession to make. I invented the maid. It 
 seemed so horribly unconventional and shocking 
 I couldn t admit that I was alone. That was 
 why I wouldn t let you build a fire for me." 
 
 "Don t worry," smiled Magee. "You ll find 
 we have all the conveniences up here. I ll present 
 you to a chaperon shortly a Mrs. Norton, who 
 is here with her daughter. Allow me to introduce 
 Mr. Cargan and Mr. Max." 
 
 The girl bowed with a rather startled air, and 
 Mr. Cargan mumbled something that had "pleas 
 ure" in it. In the office they found Professor 
 Bolton and Mr. Bland sitting gloomily before the 
 fireplace. 
 
 "Got the news, Magee?" asked the haber 
 dasher. "Peters has done a disappearing act." 
 
 It was evident to Magee that everybody looked 
 upon Peters as his creature, and laid the hermit s 
 sins at his door. He laughed. 
 
194 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE s 
 
 "I m going to head a search party shortly," he 
 said. "Don t I detect the odor of coffee in the 
 distance ?" 
 
 "Mrs. Norton/ remarked Professor Bolton 
 dolefully, "has kindly consented to do what she 
 
 can." 
 
 The girl of the station came through the dining- 
 room door. It was evident she had no share in 
 the general gloom that the hermit s absence cast 
 over Baldpate. Her eyes were bright with the 
 glories of morning on a mountain; in their 
 depths there was no room for petty annoyances. 
 
 "Good morning," she said to Mr. Magee. "Isn t 
 it bracing ? Have you been outside ? Oh, I-" 
 
 "Miss Norton Miss Thornhill," explained 
 Magee. "Miss Thornhill has the sixth key, you 
 know. She came last night without any of us 
 knowing." 
 
 , With lukewarm smiles the two girls shook 
 hands. Outwardly the glances they exchanged 
 were nonchalant and casual, but somehow Mr. 
 Magee felt that among the matters they estab 
 lished were social position, wit, cunning, guile, 
 and taste in dress. 
 
THE COLD GRAY DAWN 195 
 
 "May I help with the coffee?" asked Miss 
 Thornhill. 
 
 "Only to drink it," replied the girl of the sta 
 tion. "It s all made now, you see." 
 
 As if in proof of this, Mrs. Norton appeared in 
 the dining-room door with a tfay, and simulta 
 neously opened an endless monologue : 
 
 "I don t know what you men will say to this, 
 I m sure nothing in the house but some coffee 
 and a few crackers not even any canned soup, 
 and I thought from the way things went yester 
 day he had ten thousand cans of it at the very 
 least but men are all alike what name did you 
 say? oh yes, Miss Thornhill, pleased to meet 
 you, I m sure excuse my not shaking hands as 
 I was saying, men are all alike Norton thought 
 if he brought home a roast on Saturday night it 
 ought to last the week out " 
 
 She rattled on. Unheeding her flow of talk, 
 the hermits of Baldpate Inn swallowed the coffee 
 she offered. When the rather unsatisfactory sub 
 stitute for breakfast was consumed, Mr. Magee 
 rose briskly. 
 
 "Now," he said, "I m going to run up to the 
 
196 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 hermit s shack and reason with him as best I caa 
 I shall paint in touching colors our sad plight. If 
 the man has an atom of decency " 
 
 "A walk on the mountain in the morning," said 
 Miss Thornhill quickly. "Splendid. I " 
 
 "Wonderful," put in Miss Norton. "I, for one, 
 can t resist. Even though I haven t been invited, 
 I m going along." She smiled sweetly. She had 
 beaten the other girl by the breadth of a hair, and 
 she knew it. New glories shone in her eyes. 
 
 "Good for you !" said Magee. The evil hour of 
 explanations was at hand, surely. "Run up and 
 get your things." 
 
 While Miss Norton was gone, Mr. Cargan 
 and Lou Max engaged in earnest converse near 
 a window. After which Mr. Max pulled on his 
 overcoat. 
 
 "I ain t been invited either," he said, "but I 
 reckon I ll go along. I always wanted to see what 
 a hermit lived like when he s really buckled down 
 to the hermit business. And then a walk in the 
 morning has always been my first rule for health. 
 You don t mind, do you ?" 
 
 "Who am I," asked Magee, "that I should 
 
THE COLD GRAY DAWN 197 
 
 stand between you and health? Come along, by 
 all means." 
 
 With the blue corduroy suit again complete, 
 and the saucy hat perched on her blond head, 
 Miss Norton ran down the stairs and received the 
 news that Mr. Max also was enthralled by the 
 possibilities of a walk up Baldpate. The three 
 went out through the front door, and found un 
 der the snow a hint of the path that led to the 
 shack of the post-card merchant. 
 
 "Will you go ahead?" asked Magee of Max. 
 
 "Sorry," grinned Max, "but I guess I ll bring 
 up the rear." 
 
 "Suspicion," said Mr. Magee, shaking his head, 
 "has caused a lot of trouble in the world. Re 
 member the cruelty practised on Pueblo Sam." 
 
 "I do," replied Mr. Max, "and it nearly breaks 
 my heart. But there s a little matter I forgot to 
 mention last night. Suspicion is all right in its 
 place." 
 
 "Where s that?" asked Mr. Magee. 
 
 Mr. Max tapped his narrow chest. "Here," 
 he said. So the three began the climb, Mr. Magee 
 tnd the girl ahead, Mr. Max leering at their heels. 
 
198 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 The snow still fell, and the picture of the world 
 was painted in grays and whites. At some points 
 along the way to the hermit s abode it had drifted 
 deep; at others the foot-path was swept almost 
 bare by the wind. For a time Mr. Max kept so 
 close that the conversation of the two in the lead 
 was necessarily of the commonplaces of the wind 
 and sky and mountain. 
 
 Covertly Mr. Magee glanced at the girl striding 
 along by his side. The red flamed in her cheeks ; 
 her long lashes were flecked with the white of 
 the snow ; her face was such a one as middle-aged 
 men dream of while their fat wives read the 
 evening paper s beauty hints at their side. Far 
 beyond the ordinary woman was she desirable 
 and pleasing. Mr. Magee told himself he had 
 been a fool. For he who had fought so valiantly 
 for her heart s desire at the foot of the steps had 
 faltered when the time came to hand her the prize. 
 Why? What place had caution in the wiild 
 scheme of the night before? None, surely. And 
 yet he, dolt, idiot, coward, had in the moment of 
 triumph turned cautious. Full confession, he de 
 cided, was the only way out. 
 
THE COLD GRAY DAWN 199 
 
 Mr. Max was panting along quite ten feet be 
 hind. Over her shoulder the girl noted this ; she 
 turned her questioning eyes on Magee; he felt 
 that his moment had come. 
 
 "I don t know how to begin," muttered the nov 
 elist whose puppets* speeches had always been so 
 apt. "Last night you sent me on a sort of quest 
 for the golden fleece. I didn t know who had been 
 fleeced, or what the idea was. But I fared forth, 
 as they say. I got it for you " 
 
 The eyes of the girl glowed happily. She was 
 beaming. 
 
 "I m so glad," she said. "But why why didn t 
 you give it to me last night ? It would have meant 
 so much if you had." 
 
 "That," replied Mr. Magee, "is what I m com 
 ing to very reluctantly. Did you note any spirit 
 of caution in the fellow who set forth on youf 
 quest, and dropped over the balcony rail? You 
 did not. I waited on the porch and saw Max tap 
 the safe. I saw him and Cargan come out. I 
 waited for them. Just as I was about to jump on 
 them, somebody the man with the seventh key, 
 I guess did it for me. There was a scuffle. I 
 
200 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 joined it I emerged with the package everybody 
 seems so interested in." 
 
 "Yes," said the girl breathlessly. "And then " 
 
 "I started to bring it to you," went on Magee, 
 glancing over his shoulder at Max. "I was all 
 aglow with romance, and battle, and all that sort 
 of thing. I pictured the thrill of handing you 
 the thing you had asked. I ran up-stairs. At the 
 head of the stairs I saw her." 
 
 The light died in her eyes. Reproach entered 
 there. 
 
 "Yes," continued Magee, "your knight errant 
 lost his nerve. He ceased to run on schedule. 
 She, too, asked me for that package of money." 
 
 "And you gave it to her," said the girl scorn 
 fully. 
 
 "Oh, no," answered Magee quickly. "Not so 
 bad as that. I simply sat down on the steps and 
 thought. I got cautious. I decided to wait until 
 to-day. I I did wait." 
 
 He paused. The girl strode on, looking straight 
 ahead. Mr. Magee thought of adding that he had 
 felt it might be dangerous to place a package so 
 
THE COLD GRAY DAWN 201 
 
 voraciously desired in her frail hands. He de 
 cided he d better not, on second thought. 
 
 "I know/ he said, "what you think. Fm a fine 
 specimen of a man to send on a hunt like that. 
 A weak-kneed mollycoddle who passes into a 
 state of coma at the crucial moment. But I m 
 going to give you that package yet." 
 
 The girl turned her head. Mr. Magee saw that 
 her eyes were misty with tears. 
 
 "You re playing with me," she said brokenly. 
 "I might have known. And I trusted you. You re 
 in the game with the others and I thought you 
 weren t. I staked my whole chance of success on 
 you now you re making sport of me. You 
 never intended to give me that money you don t 
 intend to now." 
 
 "On my word," cried Magee, "I do intend to 
 give it to you. The minute we get back to the 
 Inn. I have it safe in my room." 
 
 "Give it to her," said the girl bitterly. "Why 
 don t you give it to her?" 
 
 Oh, the perversity of women ! 
 
 "It s you I want to give it to," replied Magee 
 
02 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 warmly. "I don t know what was the matter 
 with me last night. I was a fool. You don t 
 believe in me, I know " Her face was cold and 
 expressionless. 
 
 "And I wanted to believe in you so much/* 
 she said. 
 
 "Why did you want to?" cried Magee. 
 "Why?" 
 
 She plodded on through the snow. 
 
 "You must believe," he pleaded. "I don t 
 know what all this is about on my word of 
 honor. But I want to give you that money, and I 
 will the minute we get back to the inn. Will 
 you believe then? Will you?" 
 
 "I hate you," said the girl simply. 
 
 She should not have said that. As far back 
 as he could remember, such opposition had stirred 
 Mr. Magee to wild deeds. He opened his mouth 
 .and words flowed forth. What were the words? 
 
 "I love you ! I love you ! Ever since that mo 
 ment in the station I have loved you! I love 
 you!" 
 
 Faintly he heard himself saying it over and 
 over. By the gods, he was proposing! Inanely, 
 
THE GOLD GRAY DAWN 203 
 
 in words of one syllable, as the butcher s boy 
 might have told his love to the second kitchen 
 maid. 
 
 "I love you," he continued. Idiot! 
 
 Often Mr. Magee had thought of the moment 
 when he would tell his love to a woman. It was 
 a moment of dim lights, music perhaps in the dis 
 tance, two souls caught up in the magic of the 
 moonlit night a pretty graceful speech from 
 him, a sweet gracious surrender from the girl. 
 And this instead. 
 
 "I love you." In heaven s name, was he never 
 going to stop saying it? "I want you to believe." 
 
 Bright morning on the mountain, a girl in an 
 angry mood at his side, a seedy chaperon on his 
 trail, an erring cook ahead. Good lord! He re 
 called that a fellow novelist, whose love scenes 
 were regarded as models by young people suffer 
 ing the tender passion, had once confessed that he 
 proposed to his wife on a street-car, and was ac- ( 
 cepted just as the conductor handed him his 
 transfers. Mr. Magee had been scornful. He 
 could never be scornful again. By a tremendous 
 effort he avoided repeating his childish refrain. 
 
204 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 The girl deliberately stopped. There was never 
 less of sweet gracious surrender in a suffragette 
 hurling a stone through a shop-keeper s window. 
 She eyed Mr. Magee pityingly, and they stood 
 until Mr. Max caught up with them. 
 
 "So that s the hermit s shack," said Max, in 
 dicating the little wooden hut at which they had 
 arrived. "A funny place for a guy to bury him 
 self. I should think he d get to longing for the 
 white lights and the table d hotes with red wine." 
 
 "A very unromantic speech," reproved the girl. 
 "You should be deeply thrilled at the thought of 
 penetrating the secrets of the hermitage. I am. 
 Are you, Mr. Magee ?" 
 
 She smiled up at Magee, and he was in that 
 state where he thought that in the blue depths 
 of her eyes he saw the sunny slopes of the Islands 
 of the blest. 
 
 "I " he caught himself in time. He would 
 not be idiot enough to babble it again. He pulled 
 himself together. "I m going to make you believe 
 in me," he said, with a touch of his old jauntiness. 
 
 Mr. Max was knocking with characteristic 
 loudness at the hermit s door. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 A FALSEHOOD UNDER THE PALMS 
 
 AKE me a willow cabin at your gate/ 9 
 quoted Mr. Magee, looking at the her 
 mit s shack with interest. 
 
 "U-m-m," replied Miss Norton. Thus beauti 
 ful sentiments frequently fare, even at the hands 
 of the most beautiful. Mr. Magee abandoned his 
 project of completing the speech. 
 
 The door of the hermit s abode opened before 
 Mr. Max s masterful knock, and the bearded lit 
 tle man appeared on the threshold. He was clad 
 in a purple dressing-gown that suggested some 
 woman had picked it. Surely no man could have 
 
 fallen victim to that riot of color. 
 
 i 
 
 "Come in," said the hermit, in a tone so color 
 less it called added attention to the gown. "Miss, 
 you have the chair. You ll have to be contented 
 with that soap-box davenport, gentlemen. Well?" 
 205 
 
206 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 He stood facing them in the middle of his her 
 mitage. With curious eyes they examined its 
 architecture. Exiled hands had built it of poles 
 and clay and a reliable brand of roofing. In the 
 largest room, where they sat, were chairs, a table, 
 and a book-shelf hammered together from stray 
 boards furniture midway between that in a hut 
 on a desert isle and that of a home made happy 
 from the back pages of a woman s magazine. 
 On the wall were various posters that defined the 
 hermit s taste in art as inflammatory, bold, ar 
 resting. Through one door at the rear they 
 caught a glimpse of a tiny kitchen; through an 
 other the white covering of a hall-room cot could 
 be seen. 
 
 "Well?" repeated Mr. Peters. "I suppose 
 you re a delegation, so to speak ?" 
 
 "A cold unfeeling word," objected Mr. Magee. 
 
 "We have come to plead" began Miss Nor 
 ton, turning her eyes at their full candle-power on 
 the hermit s bearded face. 
 
 "I beg pardon, miss," interrupted Mr. Peters, 
 "but it ain t any use. I ve thought it all out in 
 the night watches, as the poet says. I came up 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 207 
 
 here to be alone. I can t be a hermit and a cook, 
 too. I can t and be true to myself. No, you ll 
 have to accept my resignation, to take effect at 
 
 once." 
 
 He sat down on an uncertain chair and regard 
 ed them sorrowfully. His long well-shaped fin 
 gers clutched the cord of the purple gown. 
 
 "It isn t as though we were asking you to give 
 tip the hermit business for good," argued Magee. 
 "It s just for a short time maybe only for a few 
 days. I should think you would welcome the 
 diversion." 
 
 Mr. Peters shook his head vigorously. The 
 brown curls waved flippantly about his shoulders. 
 
 "My instincts," he replied, "are away from the 
 crowd. I explained that to you when we first 
 met, Mr. Magee." 
 
 "Any man," commented Mr. Max, " ought to 
 be able to strangle his instincts for a good salary, 
 \ payable in advance." 
 
 "You come here," said the hermit with annoy 
 ance, "and you bring with you the sentiments of 
 the outside world the world I have foresworn, 
 .Don t do it. I ask you/ 
 
208 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I don t get you," reflected Mr. Max. "No, 
 pal, I don t quite grab this hermit game. It ain t 
 human nature, I say. Way up here miles from 
 the little brass rail and the sporting extra, and 
 other things that make life worth living. It s 
 beyond me." 
 
 "I m not asking your approval," replied the 
 hermit. "All I ask is to be let alone." 
 
 "Let me speak," said Miss Norton. "Mr. 
 Peters and I have been friends, you might say, 
 for three years. It was three years ago my awed 
 eyes first fell upon him, selling his post-cards at 
 the inn. He was to me then the true romance 
 the man to whom the world means nothing with 
 out a certain woman at his side. That is what 
 he has meant to all the girls who came to Bald- 
 pate. He isn t going to shatter my ideal of him 
 he isn t going to refuse a lady in distress. You 
 will come for just a little while, won t you, Mr. 
 Peters?" 
 
 But Peters shook his head again. 
 
 "I dislike women as a sex," he said, "but I ve 
 always been gentle and easy with isolated exam 
 ples of em. It ain t my style to turn em dowa 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 209 
 
 But this is asking too much. I m sorry. But I 
 got to be true to my oath I got to be a hermit." 
 
 "Maybe," sneered Mr. Max, "he s got good 
 reason for being a hermit. Maybe there s brass 
 buttons and blue uniforms mixed up in it." 
 
 "You come from the great world of suspicion," 
 answered the hermit, turning reproving eyes upon 
 faim. "Your talk is natural it goes with the life 
 you lead. But it isn t true." 
 
 "And Mr. Max is the last who should insinu 
 ate," rebuked Mr. Magee. "Why, only last night 
 he denounced suspicion, and bemoaned the fact 
 that there is so much of it in the world." 
 
 "Well he might," replied the hermit. "Suspi 
 cion is the key-note of modern life especially in 
 New York." He drew the purple dressing-gown 
 closer about his plump form. "I remember the 
 last time I was in the big town, seeing a crowd of 
 men in the grill-room of the Hoffman House. 
 One of them long, lean, like an eel stooped 
 down and whispered in the ear of a little fellow 
 with a diamond horseshoe desecrating his haber 
 dashery, and pointing to another man near by. 
 No, I won t/ says the man with the diamonds, 
 
210 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 I don t introduce nobody to nobody. Let every 
 man play his own game, I say/ That s New 
 York. That s the essence of the town. I intro 
 duce nobody to nobody. " 
 
 "It seems odd," remarked Mr. Magee, "to hear 
 you speak of the time you walked on pavements." 
 
 "I haven t always been on Baldpate Mountain," 
 replied the hermit. "Once I, too, paid taxes and 
 wore a derby hat and sat in barbers chairs. Yes, 
 I sat in em in many towns, in many corners of 
 this little round globe. But that s all over now." 
 
 The three visitors gazed at Mr. Peters with a 
 new interest 
 
 "New York," said Mr. Max softly, as a better 
 man might have spoken the name of the girl he 
 loved. "Ifs a great little Christmas tree. The 
 candles are always burning and the tinsel presents 
 always look good to me." 
 
 The hermit s eyes strayed far away down the 
 mountain and beyond. 
 
 "New York," said he, and his tone was that in 
 which Max had said the words. "A great little 
 Christmas tree it is, with fine presents for the 
 reaching. Sometimes, at night here, I see it as it 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 211 
 
 was four years ago I see the candles lit on the 
 Great White Way I hear the elevated roar, and 
 the newsboys shout, and Diamond Jim Brady 
 applauding at a musical comedy s first night. 
 New York!" 
 
 Mr. Max rose pompously and pointed a yellow 
 finger at the Hermit of Baldpate Mountain. 
 
 "I got you!" he cried in triumph. "I m wise! 
 You want to go back." 
 
 A half-hearted smile crossed the visible portion 
 of the hermit s face. 
 
 "I guess I m about the poorest liar in the 
 world," he said. "I never got away with but one 
 lie in my life, and that was only for a little while. 
 It was a masterpiece while it lasted, too. But it 
 was my only hit as a liar. Usually I fail, as I 
 have failed now. I lied when I said I couldn t 
 cook for you because I had to be true to my her 
 mit s oath. That isn t the reason. I m afraid." 
 
 "Afraid?" echoed Mr. Magee. 
 
 "Scared," said Mr. Peters, "of temptation. 
 Your seventh son of a seventh son friend here 
 has read my palm O. K. I want to go back. 
 Not in the summer, when the inn blazes like 
 
212 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Broadway every evening, and I can sit here and 
 ^listen to the latest comic opera tunes come drift 
 ing up from the casino, and go down and mingle 
 with the muslin brigade any time I want, and 
 see the sympathetic look in their eyes as they buy 
 my postals. It ain t then I want to go back. If s 
 when fall comes, and the trees on the mountain 
 ire bare, and Quimby locks up the inn, and 
 there s only the wind and me on the mountain 
 then I get the fever. I haven t the post-card 
 trade to think of so I think of Ellen, and New 
 York. She s my wife. New York it s my 
 town. 
 
 "That s why I can t come among you to 
 cook. It d be leading me into temptation greater 
 than I could stand. I d hear your talk, and like 
 as not when you went away I d shave off this 
 beard, and burn the manuscript of Woman, and 
 go down into the marts of trade. Last night I 
 walked the floor till two. I can t stand such 
 temptation." 
 
 Mr. Peters auditors regarded him in silence. 
 He rose and moved toward the kitchen door. 
 
 "Now you understand how it is," he said. 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 213 
 
 "Perhaps you will go and leave me to my bak 
 ing." 
 
 "One minute," objected Mr. Magee. "You 
 spoke of one lie your masterpiece. We must 
 hear about that. 5 
 
 "Yes spin the yarn, pal," requested Mr. Max. 
 
 "Well," said the hermit reluctantly, "if you re 
 quite comfortable it ain t very short." 
 
 "Please," beamed Miss Norton. 
 
 With a sigh the Hermit of Baldpate Mountain 
 sank upon a most unsocial seat and drew his pur 
 ple splendor close. 
 
 "It was like this," he began. "Five years ago 
 I worked for a fruit company, and business sent 
 me sliding along the edges of strange seas and 
 picture-book lands. I met little brown men, and 
 listened to the soft swish of the banana growing, 
 and had an orchestra seat at a revolution or two. 
 Don t look for a magazine story about over 
 thrown tyrants, or anything like that. It s just 
 a quiet little lie I m speaking of, told on a quiet 
 little afternoon, by the sands of a sea as blue as 
 Baldpate Inn must have been this morning when 
 I didn t show up with breakfast. 
 
2i 4 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Sitting on those yellow sands the afternoon 
 I speak of, wearing carpet slippers made for me 
 by loving, so to speak, hands, I saw Alexander 
 McMann come along. He was tall and straight 
 and young and free, and I envied him, for even 
 in those days my figure would never have done 
 in a clothing advertisement, owing to the heri 
 tage of too many table d hotes about the middle. 
 Well, McMann sat at my side, and little by little, 
 with the sea washing sad-like near by, I got from 
 him the story of his exile, and why. 
 
 "I don t need to tell you it was woman had 
 sent him off for the equator. This one s name 
 was Marie, I think, and she worked at a lunch- 
 counter in Kansas City. From the young man s 
 bill-of-fare description of her, I gathered that 
 she had cheeks like peaches and cream, but a heart 
 like a lunch-counter doughnut, which is hard. 
 
 " She cast you off? I asked. 
 
 " She threw me down, said he. 
 
 "Well, it seems he d bought a ticket for that 
 loud-colored country where I met him, and come 
 down there to forget. I could buy the ticket/ 
 he said, as soon as I learned how to pronounce 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 
 
 the name of this town. But I can t forget I ve 
 tried It s hopeless. And he sat there looking 
 like a man whose best friend has died, owing him 
 money. I won t go into his emotions. Mr. 
 Bland, up at the inn, is suffering them at the 
 present moment, I m told. They re unimportant ; 
 I ll hurry on to the lie. I simply say he was sor 
 rowful, and it seemed to me a crime, what with 
 the sun so bright, and the sea so blue, and the 
 world so full of a number of things. Yes, it 
 certainly was a crime, and I decided he had to 
 be cheered up at any cost. How? I thought a 
 while, gazing up at the sky, and then it came to 
 me the lie the great glorious lie and I told 
 it." 
 
 The hermit looked in defiance round the listen 
 ing circle. 
 
 " You re chuck full of sorrow now, I said 
 to McMann, but it won t last long. He shook 
 his head. * Nonsense, I told him. Look at me. 
 ^Do you see me doing a heart-bowed-down act 
 under the palms? Do you find anything but joy 
 in my face? And he couldn t, the lie unfolding 
 itself in such splendor to me. You? he asked. 
 
216 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Me/ I said. Ten years ago I was where yow 
 are to-day. A woman had spoken to me as Mabel 
 or Marie or what was it? spoke to you/ 
 
 "I could see I had the boy interested. I un 
 folded my story, as it occurred to me at the 
 moment. Yes/ said I, ten years ago I saw her 
 first. Dancing as a butterfly dances from flower 
 to flower. Dancing on the stage a fairy sprite. 
 I loved her worshiped her. It could never be. 
 There in the dark of the wings, she told me so. 
 And she shed a tear a sweet tear of sorrow at 
 parting. 
 
 " I went to my room/ I told McMann, with 
 a lot of time-tables and steamship books. Bright 
 red books the color came off on my eager 
 hands. I picked out a country, and sailed away. 
 Like you, I thought I could never be happy, never 
 even smile, again. Look at me/ 
 
 "He looked. I guess my face radiated bliss. 
 The idea was so lovely. He was impressed 1| 
 could see it. Tm supremely happy/ I told him. 
 I am my own master. I wander where I will. 
 No woman tells me my hour for going out, or 
 my hour for corning in. I wander. For com- 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 217 
 
 pany I have her picture as I saw her last with 
 twinkling feet that never touched earth. As the 
 spirit moves, I go. You can move the memory of 
 a woman in a flash, my boy, but it takes two 
 months to get the real article started, and then 
 like as not she s forgot everything of importance. 
 Ever thought of that? You should. You re 
 going to be as happy as I am. Study me. Re 
 flect/ I waved my carpet-slippered feet toward 
 the palms. I had certainly made an impression 
 on Alexander McMann. 
 
 "As we walked back over the sands and grass- 
 grown streets to the hotel, his heart got away 
 from that cupid s lunch-counter, and he was al 
 most cheerful. I was gay to the last, but as I 
 parted from him my own heart sank. I knew I 
 had to go back to her, and that she would prob 
 ably give me a scolding about the carpet slippers. 
 I parted from McMann with a last word of cheer. 
 Then I went to the ship to her. My wife. 
 That was the lie, you understand. She traveled 
 everywhere with me. She never trusted me. 
 
 "We were due to sail that night, and I was 
 glad. For I worried some over what I had done.. 
 
2i8 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Suppose my wife and Alexander McMann should 
 meet. An estimable woman, but large, deter 
 mined, little suggesting the butterfly of the foot 
 lights I married, long before. We had a bad 
 session over the carpet slippers. The boat was 
 ready to sail, when McMann came aboard. He 
 carried a bag, and his face shone. 
 
 " She s sent for me/ he said. Marie wants 
 me. I got a letter from my brother. I ll blow 
 into Kansas like a cyclone, and claim her/ 
 
 "I was paralyzed. At that minute a large black 
 figure appeared on deck. It headed for me. 
 Jake/ it says, you ve sat up long enough. Go 
 below now/ 
 
 "McMann s face was terrible. I saw it was 
 all up. I lied, McMann/ I explained. The idea 
 just came to me, it fascinated me, and I lied. 
 She did turn me down there in the wings. And 
 she shed that tear I spoke of, too. But, when 
 I was looking over the railroad folders, she sent 
 for me. I went on the wings of love. It was 
 two blocks but I went on the wings of love. 
 We ve been married twenty years. Foighre me, 
 McMann ! 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 219 
 
 "McMann turned around. He picked up the 
 bag. I asked where he was going. Ashore/ he 
 said, to think. I may go back to Kansas City 
 I may. But I ll just think a bit first. And he 
 climbed into the ship s boat. I never saw him 
 again." 
 
 The hermit paused, and gazed dreamily into 
 space. 
 
 "That," he said, "was my one great lie, my 
 masterpiece. A year afterward I came up here 
 on the mountain to be a hermit." 
 
 "As a result of it?" asked Miss Norton. 
 
 "Yes," answered Mr. Peters, "I told the story 
 to a friend. I thought he was a friend so he 
 was, but married. My wife got to hear of it. 
 So you denied my existence, she said. As a 
 joke, I told her. The joke s on you/ she says. 
 That was the end. She went her way, and I 
 went mine. I d just unanimously gone her way 
 so long, I was a little dazed at first with my free 
 dom. After fighting for a living alone for a 
 time, I came up here. It s cheap. I get the 
 solitude I need for my book. Not long ago I 
 heard I could go back to her if I apologized." 
 
220 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Stick to your guns/ advised Mr. Max. 
 
 "I m trying to," Mr. Peters replied. "But it s 
 lonesome here in winter. And at Christmas in 
 particular. This dressing-gown was a Christmas 
 present from Ellen. She picked it. Pretty, ain t 
 it? You see why I can t come down and cook 
 for you. I might get the fever for society, and 
 shave, and go to Brooklyn, where she s living 
 with her sister." 
 
 "But," said Mr. Magee, "we re in an awful fix. 
 You ve put us there. Mr. Peters, as a man of 
 honor, I appeal to you. Your sense of fairness 
 must tell you my appeal is just. Risk it one more 
 day, and I ll have a cook sent up from the vil 
 lage. Just one day. There s no danger in that. 
 Surely you can resist temptation one little day. 
 A man of your character." 
 
 Miss Norton rose and stood before Mr. Peters. 
 She fixed him with her eyes eyes into which 
 no man could gaze and go his way unmoved. 
 
 "Just one tiny day," she pleaded. 
 
 Mr. Peters sighed. He rose. 
 
 "I m a fool," he said. "I can t help it. I ll 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 221 
 
 take chances on another day. Though nobody 
 knows where it ll lead." 
 
 "Brooklyn, maybe/ whispered Lou Max to 
 Magee in mock horror. 
 
 The hermit donned his coat, attended to a few 
 household duties, and led the delegation outside. 
 Dolefully he locked the door of his shack. The 
 four started down the mountain. 
 
 "Back to Baldpate with our cook," said Mr. 
 Magee into the girl s ear. "I know now how 
 Caesar felt when he rode through Rome with his 
 ex-foes festooned about his chariot wheels." 
 
 Mr. Max again chose the rear, triumphantly 
 escorting Mr. Peters. As Mr. Magee and the 
 girl swung into the lead, the former was moved 
 to recur to the topic he had handled so amateur 
 ishly a short time before. 
 
 "I ll make you believe in me yet," he said. 
 
 She did not turn her head. 
 
 "The moment we reach the inn," he went on, 
 "I shall come to you, with the package of money 
 in my hand. Then you ll believe I want to help 
 you tell me you ll believe then." 
 
222 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Very likely I shall," answered the girl with 
 out interest. "If you really do intend to give 
 ne that money no one must know about it." 
 
 "No one shall know/ he answered, "but you 
 and me." 
 
 They walked on in silence. Then shyly the 
 girl turned her head. Oh, most assuredly, she 
 was desirable. Clumsy as had been his declara 
 tion, Mr. Magee resolved to stick to it through 
 eternity. 
 
 "I m sorry I spoke as I did," she said. "Will 
 you forgive me?" 
 
 "Forgive you ?" he cried. "Why, I " 
 
 "And now," she interrupted, "let us talk of 
 other things. Of ships, and shoes, and sealing- 
 wax " 
 
 "All the topics in the world," he replied, "can 
 lead to but one with me " 
 
 "Ships?" asked the girl. 
 
 "For honeymoons," he suggested. 
 
 "Shoes?" 
 
 "In some circles of society, I believe they are 
 flung at bridal parties." 
 
 "And sealing-wax?" 
 
UNDER THE PALMS 223 
 
 "On the license, isn t it?" he queried. 
 
 "I ll not try you on cabbage and kings," 
 laughed the girl. "Please, oh, please, don t fail 
 me. You won t, will you?" Her face was seri 
 ous. "You see, it means so very much to me." 
 
 "Fail you?" cried Magee. "I d hardly do that 
 now. In ten minutes that package will be in your 
 hands along with my fate, my lady." 
 
 "I shall be so relieved." She turned her face 
 away, there was a faint flush in the cheek toward 
 Mr. Magee. "And happy," she whispered un 
 der her breath. 
 
 They were then at the great front door of 
 Baldpate Inn. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 
 
 INSIDE, before the office fire, Miss Thornhili 
 read a magazine in the indolent fashion so 
 much affected at Baldpate Inn during the heated 
 term; while the mayor of Reuton chatted amia 
 bly with the ponderously coy Mrs. Norton. Into 
 this circle burst the envoys to the hermitage, 
 flushed, energetic, snowflaked. 
 
 "Hail to the chef who in triumph advances !" 
 cried Mr. Magee. 
 
 He pointed to the door, through which Mr. 
 Max was leading the captured Mr. Peters. 
 
 "You got him, didyu?" rasped Mrs. Norton. 
 
 "Without the use of anesthetics," answered 
 Magee. "Everybody ready for one of Mr. Pe 
 ters inimitable lunches ?" 
 
 "Put me down at the head of the list/ con 
 tributed the mayor. 
 
 224 
 
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 225 
 
 Myra Thornhill laid down her magazine, and 
 fixed her great black eyes upon the radiant girl 
 in corduroy. 
 
 "And was the walk in the morning air," she 
 asked, "all you expected?" 
 
 "All, and much more/ laughed Miss Norton, 1 
 mischievously regarding the man who had bab 
 bled to her of love on the mountain. "By the 
 way, enjoy Mr. Peters while you can. He s back 
 for just one day." 
 
 "Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow the 
 cook leaves, as the fellow says," supplemented 
 Mr. Max, removing his overcoat 
 
 "How about a quick lunch, Peters?" inquired 
 Magee. 
 
 "Out of what, I d like to know," put in Mrs. 
 Norton. "Not a thing in the house to eat. Just 
 like a man." 
 
 "You didn t look in the right place, ma am," 
 replied Mr. Peters with relish. "I got supplies 
 for a couple of days in the kitchen." 
 
 "Well, what s the sense in hiding em?" the 
 large lady inquired. 
 
 "It ain t hiding it s system," explained Mr. 
 
226 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Peters. "Something women don t understand." 
 He came close to Mr. Magee, and whispered low : 
 "You didn t warn me there was another of em." 
 
 "The last, on my word of honor," Magee told 
 him. 
 
 "The-last," sneered Mr. Peters. "There isn t 
 any last up here." And with a sidelong glance at 
 the new Eve in his mountain Eden, he turned 
 away to the kitchen. 
 
 "Now," whispered Magee to Miss Norton, "I ll 
 get you that package. I ll prove that it was for 
 you I fought and bled the mayor of Reuton. 
 Watch for our chance when I see you again 
 111 have it in my pocket." 
 
 "You mustn t fail me," she replied. "It means 
 so much." 
 
 Mr. Magee started for the stairs. Between 
 him and them loomed suddenly the great bulk of 
 Mr. Cargan. His hard menacing eyes looked 
 full into Magee s. 
 
 } "I want to speak to you, young fellow," he re 
 marked. 
 
 "I m flattered," said Magee, "that you find my 
 
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 227 
 
 company so enchanting. In ten minutes I ll be 
 ready for another interview." 
 
 "You re ready now," answered the mayor, 
 "even if you don t know it." His tone was that 
 of one correcting a child. He took Mr. Magee s 
 arm in a grip which recalled to that gentleman a 
 fact the muckraking stories always dwelt on 
 how this Cargan had, in the old days, "put away 
 his man" in many shady corners of a great city. 
 
 "Come over here," said Cargan. He led the 
 way to a window. .Over his shoulder Magee 
 neted the troubled eyes of Miss Norton follow 
 ing. "Sit down. I ve been trying to dope you 
 out, and I think I ve got you. I ve seen your 
 kind before. Every few months one of em 
 breezes into Reuton, spends a whole day talking 
 to a few rats I ve had to exterminate from poli 
 tics, and then flies back to New York >vith a ten- 
 page story of my vicious career all ready for the 
 Jinotypers. Yes, sir I got you. You write sweet 
 things for the magazines." 
 
 "Think so?" inquired Magee. 
 
 "Know it," returned the mayor heartily. "So 
 
228 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 you re out after old Jim Cargan s scalp again, 
 are you? I thought that now, seeing stories on 
 the corruption of the courts is so plentiful, you d 
 3et the shame of the city halls alone for a while. 
 But well, I guess I m what you guys call good 
 copy. Big, brutal, uneducated, picturesque you 
 see I read them stories myself. How long will 
 the American public stand being ruled by a man 
 like this, when it might be authorizing pretty boys, 
 with kid gloves to get next to the good things? 
 That s the dope, ain t it the old dope of the re 
 form gang the ballyhoo of the bunch that can t 
 let the existing order stand? Don t worry, I 
 ain t going to get started on that again. But I 
 want to talk to you serious like a father. There 
 was a young fellow like you once " 
 
 "Like me?" 
 
 "Exactly. He was out working on long hours 
 and short pay for the reform gang, and he hap 
 pened to get hold of something that a man I 
 knew a man high up in public office wanted, 
 and wanted bad. The young fellow was going to 
 get two hundred dollars for the article he was 
 writing. My friend offered him twenty thou- 
 
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 229 
 
 sand to call it off. What d the young fellow do ?" 
 
 "Wrote the article, of course," said Magee. 
 
 "Now now," reproved Cargan. "That re 
 mark don t fit in with the estimate I ve made of 
 you. I think you re a smart boy. Don t disap 
 point me. This young fellow I speak of he 
 was smart, all right. He thought the matter 
 over. He knew the reform bunch, through and 
 through. All glory and no pay, serving them. 
 He knew how they chased bubbles, and made a 
 lot of noise, and never got anywhere in the end. 
 He thought it over, Magee, the same as you re 
 going to do. You re on, says this lad, and added 
 five figures to his roll as easy as we d add a nickel. 
 He had brains, that guy." 
 
 "And no conscience," commented Magee. 
 
 "Conscience," said Mr. Cargan, "ain t worth 
 much except as an excuse for a man that hasn t 
 made good to give his wife. How much did you 
 say you was going to get for this article ?" 
 
 Mr. Magee looked him coolly in the eye. 
 
 "If it s ever written," he said, "it will be a two- 
 hundred-thousand-dollar story." 
 
 There ain t anything like that in it for you," 
 
230 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 replied the mayor. "Think over what I ve told 
 you." 
 
 "I m afraid," smiled Magee, "I m too busy to 
 think." 
 
 He again crossed the office floor to the stair 
 way. Before the fire sat the girl of the station, 
 her big eyes upon him, pleadingly. With a re 
 assuring smile in her direction, he darted up the 
 stairs. 
 
 "And now," he thought, as he closed and 
 locked the door of number seven behind him, "for 
 the swag. So Cargan would give twenty thou 
 sand for that little package. I don t blame him." 
 
 He opened a window and glanced out along 
 the balcony. It was deserted in either direction; 
 its snowy floor was innocent of footprints. Re- 
 entering number seven, he knelt by the fireplace 
 and dug up the brick under which lay the pack 
 age so dear to many hearts on Baldpate Moun 
 tain. 
 
 "I might have known," he muttered. 
 
 For the money was gone. He dug up several 
 of the bricks, and rummaged about beneath them. 
 
.WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 231 
 
 No use. The fat little bundle of bills had flown. 
 Only an ugly hole gaped up at him. 
 
 He sat down. Of course! What a fool he 
 had been to suppose that such treasure as this 
 would stay long in a hiding-place so obvious. 
 He who had made a luxurious living writing 
 tales of the chase of gems and plate and gold 
 had bungled the thing from the first. He could 
 hammer out on a typewriter wild plots and coun 
 ter-plots with a boarding-school girl s cupid 
 busy all over the place. But he could not live 
 them. 
 
 A boarding-school cupid! Good lord! He 
 remembered the eyes of the girl in blue corduroy 
 as they had met his when he turned to the stairs. 
 What would she say now ? On this he had gaily 
 staked her faith in him. This was to be the test 
 of his sincerity, the proof of his devotion. And 
 now he must go to her, looking like a fool once 
 more go to her and confess that again he had 
 failed her. 
 
 His rage blazed forth. So they had "got to 
 him", after all. Who? He thought of the 
 
232 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 smooth crafty mountain of a man who had de 
 tained him a moment ago. Who but Cargan and 
 Max, of course? They had found his childish 
 hiding-place, and the money had come home to 
 their eager hands. No doubt they were laughing 
 slyly at him now. 
 
 Well, he would show them yet. He got up 
 and walked the floor. Once he had held them 
 up in the snow and spoiled their little game he 
 would do it again. How? When? He did not 
 know. His soul cried for action of some sort, 
 but he was up against a blind alley, and he 
 knew it. 
 
 He unlocked the door of number seven. To 
 go down-stairs, to meet the sweet eagerness of 
 the girl who depended on him, to confess him 
 self tricked it took all the courage he had. Why 
 had it all happened, anyhow? Confound it, 
 hadn t he come up here to be alone with his 
 thoughts? But, brighter side, it had given him 
 her or it would give him her before the last 
 card was played. He shut his teeth tightly, and 
 went down the stairs. 
 
 Mr. Bland had added himself to the group 
 
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 233 
 
 about the fire. Quickly the eyes of Miss Norton 
 met Magee s. She was trembling with excite 
 ment. Cargan, huge, red, cheery, got in Magee s 
 path once more. 
 
 "I ll annihilate this man," thought Magee. 
 
 "I ve been figuring," said the mayor, "that was 
 one thing he didn t have to contend with. No, 
 sir, there wasn t any bright young men hunting 
 up old Napoleon and knocking him in the 
 monthly magazines. They didn t go down to 
 Sardinia and pump it out of the neighbors that 
 he started business on borrowed money, and that 
 his father drank more than was good for him. 
 They didn t run illustrated articles about the dia 
 monds he wore, and moving pictures of him eat 
 ing soup." 
 
 "No, I guess not," replied Magee abstractedly. 
 
 "I reckon there was a lot in his record wasn t 
 meant for the newspapers," continued Cargan re 
 flectively. "And it didn t get there. Nap was 
 lucky. He had it on the reformers there. They 
 couldn t squash him with the power of the press." 
 
 Mr. Magee broke away from the mayor s re 
 hashed history, and hurried to Miss Norton. 
 
234 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "You promised yesterday," he reminded her, 
 "to show me the pictures of the admiral." 
 
 "So I did/ she replied, rising quickly. "To 
 think you have spent all this time in Baldpate 
 Inn and not paid homage to its own particular 
 cock of the walk." 
 
 She led him to a portrait hanging beside the 
 desk. 
 
 "Behold," she said, *the admiral on a sunny 
 day in July. Note the starchy grandeur of him, 
 even with the thermometer up in the clouds. 
 That s one of the things the rocking-chair fleet 
 adores in him. Can you imagine the flurry at 
 the approach of all that superiority? Theodore 
 Roosevelt, William Faversham, and Richard 
 Harding Davis all arriving together couldn t 
 overshadow the admiral for a minute." 
 
 Mr. Magee gazed at the picture of a pompous 
 little man, whose fierce mustache seemed anxious 
 to make up for the lack of hair on his head. 
 
 "A bald hero at a summer resort," he com 
 mented, "it seems incredible." 
 
 "Oh, they think he lost his hair fighting for 
 the flag," she laughed. "It s winter, and snow- 
 
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 235 
 
 ing, or I shouldn t dare ttse-majeste. And over 
 here is the admiral on the veranda, playing it s 
 a quarter deck. And here the great portrait 
 Andrew Rutter with a profaning arm over the 
 admiral s shoulder. The old ladies make their 
 complaints to Mr. Rutter in softer tones after 
 seeing that picture." 
 
 "And this?" asked Magee, moving farther 
 from the group by the fire. 
 
 "A precious one I wonder they leave it here 
 in winter. This is the admiral as a young man 
 clipped from a magazine article. Even without 
 the mustache, you see, he had a certain martial 
 bearing." 
 
 "And now he s the ruler of the queen s navee," 
 smiled Magee. He looked about. "Is it possible 
 to see the room where the admiral plays his fa 
 mous game?" 
 
 "Step softly," she answered. "In here. There 
 stands the very table." 
 
 They went into the small card-room at the right 
 of the entrance to the office, and Mr. Magee 
 quietly closed the door behind them. The time 
 had come. He felt his heart sink. 
 
236 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Well?" said the girl, with an eagerness she 
 could not conceal. 
 
 Mr. Magee groped for words. And found 
 his old friends of the mountain. 
 
 "I love you," he cried desperately. "You must 
 believe I want to help you. It looks rather the 
 other way now, I ll admit. I want you to have 
 that money. I don t know who you are, nor what 
 this all means, but I want you to have it. I went 
 up-stairs determined to give it to you " 
 
 "Really." The word was at least fifty degrees 
 below the temperature of the card-room. 
 
 "Yes, really. I won t ask you to believe but 
 I m telling the truth. I went to the place where 
 I had fatuously hid the money under a brick of 
 my fireplace. It was gone." 
 
 "How terribly unfortunate." 
 
 "Yes, isn t it?" Mr. Magee rejoiced that she 
 took so calm a view of it. "They searched the 
 room, of course. And they found the money. 
 They re on top now. But I m going " 
 
 He stopped. For he had seen her face. She 
 taking a calm view of it ? No, indeed. Billy 
 Magee saw that she was furiously, wildly angry. 
 
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 237 
 
 He remembered always having written it down 
 that beautiful women were even more beautiful 
 in anger. How, he wondered, had he fallen into 
 that error? 
 
 "Please do not bore me," she said through her 
 teeth, "with any further recital of what you are 
 going to do. You seem to have a fatal facility 
 in that line. Your record of accomplishment is 
 pathetically weak. And oh, what a fool I ve 
 been! I believed. Even after last night, I be 
 lieved." 
 
 No, she was not going to cry. Hers was no 
 mood for tears. What said the librettist? 
 "There is beauty in the roaring of the gale, and 
 the tiger when a-lashing of his tail." Such was 
 the beauty of a woman in anger. And nothing 
 to get enthusiastic about, thought Mr. Magee. 
 
 "I know," he said helplessly, "you re terribly 
 disappointed. And I don t blame you. But you 
 will find out that you ve done me an injustice. 
 I m going " 
 
 "One thing," said she, smiling a smile that 
 could have cut glass, "you are going to do. I 
 know that you won t fail this time, because 
 
238 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 shall personally see you through with it. You re 
 going to stop making a fool of me." 
 
 "Tell me," pleaded Billy Magee. "Tell me 
 who you are what this is all about. Can t you 
 see I m working in the dark ? You must " 
 
 She threw open the card-room door. 
 
 "An English officer," she remarked loudly, 
 stepping out into the other room, "taught the ad 
 miral the game. At least, so he said. It added 
 so much romance to it in the eyes of the rocking- 
 chair fleet. Can t you see India the hot sun 
 the Kipling local color a silent, tanned, hand 
 some man eternally playing solitaire on the porch 
 of the barracks ? Has the barracks a porch ?" 
 
 Roused, humiliated, baffled, Mr. Magee felt his 
 cheeks burn. 
 
 "We shall see what we shall see," he muttered. 
 
 "Why coin the inevitable into a bromide," she 
 asked. 
 
 Mr. Magee joined the group by the fire. Never 
 before in his life had he been so determined on 
 anything as he was now that the package of 
 money should return to his keeping. But how? 
 
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 239 
 
 How trace through this maze of humans the 
 present holder of that precious bundle of collat 
 eral ? He looked at Mr. Max, sneering his lemon- 
 colored sneer at the mayor s side; at the mayor 
 himself, nonchalant as the admiral being photo 
 graphed ; at Bland, author of the Arabella fiction, 
 sprawling at ease before the fire; at the tawdry 
 Mrs. Norton, and at Myra Thornhill, who had 
 by her pleading the night before made him ridicu 
 lous. Who of these had the money now? Who 
 but Cargan and Max, their faces serene, their 
 eyes eagerly on the preparations for lunch, their 
 plans for leaving Baldpate Inn no doubt already 
 made? 
 
 And then Mr. Magee saw coming down the 
 stairs another figure one he had forgot Pro 
 fessor Thaddeus Bolton, he of the mysterious 
 dialogue by the annex door. On the professor s 
 forehead was a surprising red scratch, and his 
 eyes, no longer hidden by the double convex 
 lenses, stood revealed a washed-out gray in the 
 light of noon. 
 
 "A most unfortunate accident/ explained the 
 
240 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 old man. "Most distressing. I have broken my; 
 glasses. I am almost blind without them." 
 
 "How d it happen, Doc?" asked Mr. Cargan 
 easily. 
 
 "I came into unexpected juxtaposition with an 
 open door," returned Professor Bolton. "Stupid 
 of me, but I m always doing it. Really, the agil 
 ity displayed by doors in getting in my path is 
 surprising." 
 
 "You and Mr. Max can sympathize with each 
 other," said Magee, "I thought for a moment 
 your injuries might have been received in the 
 
 same cause." 
 
 "Don t worry, Doc," Mr. Bland soothed him, 
 "we ll all keep a weather eye out for reporters 
 that want to connect you up with the peroxide 
 blondes." 
 
 The professor turned his ineffectual gaze on 
 the haberdasher, and there was a startlingly ironic 
 smile on his face. 
 
 "I know, Mr. Bland," he said, "that my safety 
 is your dearest wish." 
 
 The Hermit of Baldpate announced that lunch 
 
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN 241 
 
 was ready, and with the others Mr. Magee took 
 his place at the table. Food for thought was also 
 his. The spectacles of Professor Thaddeus Bolton 
 were broken. Somewhere in the scheme of things 
 those smashed lenses must fit. But where? 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 
 
 IT was past three o clock. The early twilight 
 crept up the mountain, and the shadows be 
 gan to lengthen in the great bare office of Bald- 
 pate Inn. In the red flicker of firelight Mr. Ma- 
 gee sat and pondered ; the interval since luncheon 
 had passed lazily; he was no nearer to guessing 
 which of Baldpate Inn s winter guests hugged 
 close the precious package. Exasperated, angry, 
 he waited for he knew not what, restless all the 
 while to act, but having not the glimmer of an 
 inspiration as to what his course ought to be. 
 
 He heard the rustle of skirts on the stair land 
 ing, and looked up. Down the broad stairway, 
 so well designed to serve as a show-window fof 
 the sartorial triumphs of Baldpate s gay summer 
 people, came the tall handsome girl who had the 
 night before set all his plans awry. In the swift- 
 242 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 245 
 
 moving atmosphere of the inn she had hitherto 
 been to Mr. Magee but a puppet of the shadows, 
 a figure more fictitious than real. Now for the 
 first time he looked upon her as a flesh-and-blood 
 girl, noted the red in her olive cheeks, the fire in 
 her dark eyes, and realized that her interest in 
 that package of money might be something more 
 than another queer quirk in the tangle of events. 
 
 She smiled a friendly smile at Magee, and took 
 the chair he offered. One small slipper beat a 
 discreet tattoo on the polished floor of Baldpate s 
 office. Again she suggested to Billy Magee a 
 house of wealth and warmth and luxury, a house 
 where Arnold Bennett and the post-impression 
 ists are often discussed, a house the head of which 
 becomes purple and apoplectic at the mention of 
 Colonel Roosevelt s name. 
 
 "Last night, Mr. Magee/ she said, "I told you 
 frankly why I had come to Baldpate Inn. You 
 were good enough to say that you would help 
 me if you could. The time has come when you 
 can, I think." 
 
 "Yes?" answered Magee. His heart sank. 
 What now? 
 
SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I must confess that I spied this morning,** 
 she went on. "It was rude of me, perhaps. But 
 I think almost anything is excusable under the 
 circumstances, don t you? I witnessed a scene 
 in the hall above Mr. Magee, I know who has 
 1 the two hundred thousand dollars !" 
 
 "You know?" cried Magee. His heart gave a 
 great bound. At last! And then he stopped. 
 "I m afraid I must ask you not to tell me," he 
 added sadly. 
 
 The girl looked at him in wonder. She was of 
 a type common in Magee s world delicate, 
 , finely- reared, sensitive. True, in her pride and 
 haughtiness she suggested the snow-capped 
 heights of the eternal hills. But at sight of those 
 feminine heights Billy Magee had always been 
 one to seize his alpenstock in a more determined 
 grip, and climb. Witness his attentions to the 
 supurb Helen Faulkner. He had a moment of 
 faltering. Here was a girl who at least did not 
 doubt him, who ascribed to him the virtues of a 
 gentleman, who was glad to trust in him. Should 
 he transfer his allegiance? No, he could hardly 
 do that now. 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 245 
 
 "You ask me not to tell you/ repeated the girl 
 slowly. 
 
 "That demands an explanation," replied Billy 
 Magee. "I want you to understand to be cer 
 tain that I would delight to help you if I could. 
 But the fact is that before you came I gave my 
 word to secure the package you speak of for 
 another woman. I can not break my promise to 
 her." 
 
 "I see," she answered. Her tone was cool. 
 
 "I m very sorry," Magee went on. "But as a 
 matter of fact, I seem to be of very little service 
 to any one. Just now I would give a great deal 
 to have the information you were about to give 
 me. But since I could not use it helping you, 
 you will readily see that I must not listen. I m 
 sorry." 
 
 "I m sorry, too," replied the girl. "Thank 
 you very much for telling me. Now I must 
 go forward alone." She smiled unhappily. 
 
 "I m afraid you must," answered Billy Magee. 
 
 On the stairs appeared the slim figure of the 
 other girl. Her great eyes were wistful, her face 
 was pale. She came toward them through the 
 
246 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 red firelight. Mr. Magee saw wha 4 a fool he 
 had been to waver in his allegiance even for a 
 moment. For he loved her, wanted her, surely. 
 The snow-capped heights are inspiring, but far 
 more companionable is the brcok that sparkles 
 in the valley. 
 
 "It s rather dull, isn t it?" asked Miss Norton 
 of the Thornhill girl. By the side of the taller 
 woman she seemed slight, almost childish. "Have 
 you seen the pictures of the admiral, Miss Thorn- 
 hill? Looking at them is our one diversion." 
 
 "I do not care to see them, thank you," Myra 
 Thornhill replied, moving toward the stairs. "He 
 is a very dear friend of my father." She passed 
 up and out of sight. 
 
 Miss Norton turned away from the fire, and 
 Mr. Magee rose hastily to follow. He stood 
 close behind her, gazing down at her golden hair 
 shimmering in the dark. 
 
 "I ve just been thinking," he said lightly, "what! 
 an absolutely ridiculous figure I must be in your 
 eyes, buzzing round and round like a bee in a bot 
 tle, and getting nowhere at all. Listen no one 
 has left the inn. While they stay, there s hope. 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 247 
 
 Am I not to have one more chance a chance to 
 prove to you how much I care ?" 
 
 She turned, and even in the dusk he saw that 
 her eyes were wet. 
 
 "Oh, I don t know, I don t know/ she whis 
 pered. "I m not angry any more. I m just at 
 sea. I don t know what to think what to do. 
 Why try any longer? I think 111 go away and 
 give up." 
 
 "You mustn t do that," urged Magee. They 
 came back into the firelight. "Miss Thornhill has 
 just informed me that she knows who has the 
 package !" 
 
 "Indeed," said the girl calmly, but her face had 
 flushed. 
 
 "I didn t let her tell me, of course." 
 
 "Why not?" Oh, how maddening women 
 :ould be ! 
 
 "Why not?" Magee s tone was hurt. "Be 
 cause I couldn t use her information in getting 
 the money for you." 
 
 "You are still going to get the money for 
 me?" 
 
 Maddening, certainly, as a rough-edged collar. 
 
248 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Of " Magee began, but caught himself. No, 
 he would prate no more of going to . "I ll not 
 ask you to believe it," he said, "until I bring it 
 to you and place it in your hand." 
 
 She turned her face slowly to his and lifted her 
 blue eyes. 
 
 "I wonder," she said. "I wonder." 
 
 The firelight fell on her lips, her hair, her 
 eyes, and Mr. Magee knew that his selfish bach 
 elorhood was at an end. Hitherto, marriage had 
 been to him the picture drawn by the pathetic 
 exiled master. "There are no more pleasant by 
 paths down which you may wander, but the road 
 lies long and straight and dusty to the grave." 
 What if it were so? With the hand of a girl like 
 this in his, what if the pleasant by-paths of his 
 solitude did bear hereafter the "No Thorough 
 fare" sign? Long the road might be, and he 
 would rejoice in its length ; dusty perhaps, but her 
 smile through the dust would make it all worth 
 while. He stooped to her. 
 
 "Give me, please," he said, "the benefit of the 
 doubt." It was a poor speech compared to what 
 was in his heart, but Billy Magee was rapidly 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 249 
 
 learning that most of the pretty speeches went 
 with puppets who could not feel. 
 
 Bland and Max came in from a brisk walk on 
 the veranda. The mayor of Reuton, who had 
 been dozing near the desk, stirred. 
 
 "Great air up here," remarked Mr. Max, rub 
 bing his hands before the fire. "Ought to be 
 pumped down into the region of the white lights. 
 It sure would stir things up." 
 
 "It would put out the lights at ten p. M./ 
 answered Mr. Magee, "and inculcate other 
 wholesome habits of living disastrous to the res 
 taurant impresarios." 
 
 Miss Norton rose and ascended the stairs. Still 
 the protesting Magee was at her heels. At the 
 head of the stair she turned. 
 
 "You shall have your final chance," she said. 
 "The mayor, Max and Bland are alone in the 
 office. I don t approve of eavesdropping at Bald- 
 pate in the summer it has spoiled a lot of per 
 fectly adorable engagements. But in winter it s 
 different. Whether you really want to help me 
 or not I m sure I don t know, but if you do, the 
 conversation below now might prove of interest." 
 
250 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I m sure it would," Magee replied. 
 
 "Well, I have a scheme. Listen. Baldpate 
 Inn is located in a temperance county. That 
 doesn t mean that people don t drink here it 
 simple means that there s a lot of mystery and ro 
 mance connected with the drinking. Sometimes 
 those who follow the god of chance in the card- 
 room late at night grow thirsty. Now it hap 
 pens that there is a trap-door in the floor of 
 the card-room, up which drinks are frequently 
 passed from the cellar. Isn t that exciting? A 
 hotel clerk who became human once in my pres 
 ence told me all about it. If you went into the 
 cellar and hunted about, you might find that door 
 and climb up into the card-room." 
 
 "A bully idea," agreed Mr. Magee. "I ll hurry 
 down there this minute. I m more grateful than 
 you can guess for this chance. And this time 
 but you ll see." 
 
 He found the back stairs, and descended. In 
 the kitchen the hermit got in his path. 
 
 "Mr. Magee," he pleaded, "I consider that, in 
 a way, I work for you here. I ve got something 
 important to tell you. Just a minute " 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 251 
 
 "Sorry," answered Magee, "but I can t possi 
 bly stop now. In an hour I ll talk to you. Show 
 me the cellar door, and don t mention where I ve 
 gone, there s a good fellow." 
 
 Mr. Peters protested that his need of talk was 
 urgent, but to no avail. Magee hurried to the cel 
 lar, and with the aid of a box of matches found a 
 ladder leading to a door cut in the floor above. He 
 climbed through dust and cobwebs, unfastened 
 the catch, and pushed cautiously upward. In 
 another minute he was standing in the chill little 
 card-room. Softly he opened the card-room door 
 about half an inch, and put his ear to it. 
 
 The three men were grouped very close at 
 hand, and he heard Mr. Bland speaking in low 
 tones : 
 
 "I m talking to you boys as a friend. The 
 show is over. There ain t no use hanging round 
 for the concert there won t be none. Go home 
 and get some clean collars and a square meal." 
 
 "If you think I m going to be shook off by any 
 fairy story like that," said the mayor of Reuton, 
 "you re a child with all a child s touching faith." 
 
252 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "All right," replied Mr. Bland, "I thought I d 
 pass you the tip, that s all. It ain t nothing to 
 me what you do. But it s all over, and you ve 
 lost out. I m sorry you have but I take Hay- 
 den s orders." 
 
 "Damn Hayden!" snarled the mayor. "It was 
 his idea to make a three-act play out of this thing. 
 He s responsible for this silly trip to Baldpate. 
 This audience we ve been acting for he let us 
 in for them." 
 
 "I know," said Bland. "But you can t deny 
 that Baldpate Inn looked like the ideal spot at 
 first. Secluded, off the beaten path, you know, 
 and all that." 
 
 "Yes," sneered the mayor, "as secluded as a 
 Sunday-school the Sunday before Christmas." 
 
 "Well, who could have guessed it?" went on 
 Mr. Bland. "As I say, I don t care what you do. 
 I just passed you the tip. I ve got that nice little 
 package of the long green I ve got it where 
 you ll never find it Yes, sir, it s returned to the 
 loving hands of little Joe Bland, that brought it 
 here first. It ain t going to roam no more. So 
 what s the use of your sticking around ?" 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 25$ 
 
 "How did you get hold of it?" inquired Mr. 
 Lou Max. 
 
 "I had my eye on this little professor person/* 
 explained Mr. Bland. "This morning when 
 Magee went up the mountain I trailed the high 
 brow to Magee s room. When I busted in, un 
 announced by the butler, he was making his get 
 away. I don t like to talk about what followed. 
 He s an old man, and I sure didn t mean to break 
 his glasses, nor scratch his dome of thought. 
 There s ideas in that dome go back to the time of 
 Anthony J. Chaucer. But he s always talking 
 about that literature chair of his why couldn t 
 he stay at home and sit in it ? Anyhow, I got the 
 bundle all right, all right. I wonder what the lit 
 tle fossil wants with it" 
 
 "The Doc s glasses was broke," said Max, evi 
 dently to the mayor of Reuton. 
 
 "Um-m," came Cargan s voice. "Bland, how 
 much do you make working for this nice kind 
 gentleman, Mr. Hayden?" 
 
 "Oh, about two thousand a year, with pick 
 ings," replied Bland. 
 
 "Yes?" went on Mr. Cargan. "I ain t no 
 
254 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Charles Dana Gibson with words. My talk s a 
 little rough and sketchy, I guess. But here s the 
 outline, plain as I can make it. Two thousand a 
 year from Hayden. Twenty thousand in two 
 seconds if you hand that package to me." 
 
 "No," objected Bland. "I ve been honest- 
 after a fashion. I can t quite stand for that. I m 
 working for Hayden." 
 
 "Don t be a fool," sneered Max. 
 
 "Of course," said the mayor, "I appreciate 
 your scruples, having had a few in my day my 
 self, though you d never think so to read the Star. 
 But look at it sensible. The money belongs to 
 me. If you was to hand it over you d be just doing 
 plain justice. What right has Hayden on his 
 side? I did what was agreed do I get my pay? 
 No. Who are you to defeat the ends of justice 
 this way? That s how you ought to look at it. 
 You give me what s my due and you put twenty 
 thousand in your pocket by an honest act. Hay 
 den comes. He asks for the bundle. You point 
 to the dynamited safe. You did your best." 
 
 "No," said Bland, but his tone was less firm. 
 "I can t go back on Hayden. No it wouldn t " 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 25$ 
 
 "Twenty thousand," repeated Cargan. "Ten 
 years salary the way you re going ahead at pres 
 ent. A lot of money for a young man. If I was 
 you I wouldn t hesitate a minute. Think. 
 What s Hayden ever done for you? He ll 
 throw you down some day, the way he s thrown) 
 
 me." 
 
 "I I don t know " wavered Bland. Mr. 
 Magee, in the card-room, knew that Hayden s 
 emissary was tottering on the brink. 
 
 "You could set up in business," whined Mr. 
 Max. "Why, if I d had that much money at 
 your age, I d be a millionaire to-day." 
 
 "You get the package," suggested the mayor, 
 "take twenty thousand out, and slip the rest to 
 me. No questions asked. I guess there ain t no 
 body mixed up in this affair will go up on the 
 housetops and shout about it when we get back 
 to Reuton." 
 
 "\y e ll," began Bland. He was lost. Sud 
 denly the quiet of Baldpate Mountain was as 
 sailed by a loud pounding at the inn door, and a 
 voice crying, "Bland. Let me in." 
 
 "There s Hayden now," cried Mr. Bland. 
 
256 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "It ain t too late," came the mayor s voice, 
 "You can do it yet. It ain t too late." 
 
 "Do what ?" cried Bland in a firm tone. "You 
 jcan t bribe me, Cargan." He raised his voice. 
 "Go round to the east door, Mr. Hayden." Then 
 he added, to Cargan: "That s my answer. I m 
 going to let him in." 
 
 "Let him in," bellowed the mayor. "Let the 
 hound in. I guess I ve got something to say to 
 Mr. Hayden." 
 
 There came to Magee s ears the sound of open 
 ing doors, and of returning footsteps. 
 
 "How do you do, Cargan," said a voice new to 
 Baldpate. 
 
 "Cut the society howdydoes," replied the 
 mayor hotly. "There s a little score to be settled 
 between me and you, Hayden. I ain t quite wise 
 to your orchid-in-the-buttonhole ways. I don t 
 quite follow them. I ain t been bred in the club 
 you hang around they blackballed me when I 
 ; tried to get in. You know that. I m a rough 
 rude man. I don t understand your system. 
 When I give my word, I keep it. Has that gone 
 out of style up on the avenue, where you live?" 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 257 
 
 "There are conditions " began Hayden. 
 
 "The hell there are !" roared Cargan. "A man s 
 word s his word, and he keeps it to me, or I know 
 the reason why. You can t come down to the 
 City Hall with any new deal like this. I was to 
 have two hundred thousand. Why didn t I get 
 it?" 
 
 "Because," replied Hayden smoothly, "the er 
 little favor you were to grant me in return is to 
 be made useless by the courts." 
 
 "Can I help that?" the mayor demanded. 
 "Was there anything about that in the agree 
 ment? I did my work. I want my pay. I ll 
 have it, Mister Hayden." 
 
 Hayden s voice was cool and even as he spoke 
 to Bland. 
 
 "Got the money, Joe?" 
 
 "Yes," Bland answered. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Well we d better wait, hadn t we?" Eland s 
 voice was shaky. 
 
 "No. We ll take it and get out," answered 
 Hayden. 
 
 "I want to see you do it," cried Cargan. "If 
 
258 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 you think I ve come up here on a pleasure trip, 
 I got a chart and a pointer all ready for your 
 next lesson. And let me put you wise this 
 nobby little idea of yours about Baldpate Inn is 
 the worst ever. The place is as full of people 
 as if the regular summer rates was being 
 charged." 
 
 "The devil it is!" cried Hayden. His voice 
 betrayed a startled annoyance. 
 
 "It hasn t worried me none," went on the 
 mayor. "They can t touch me. I own the prose 
 cutor, and you know it. But it ain t going to do 
 you any good on the avenue if you re seen here 
 with me. Is it, Mr. Hayden?" 
 
 "The more reason," replied Hayden, "for get 
 ting the money and leaving at once. I m not 
 afraid of you, Cargan. I m armed." 
 
 "I ain t," sneered the mayor. "But no ex 
 quisite from your set with his little air-gun ever 
 scared me. You try to get away from here with 
 that bundle and you ll find yourself all tangled 
 Up in the worst scrap that ever happened." 
 
 "Where s the money, Joe?" asked Hayden. 
 
 "You won t wait " Bland begged. 
 
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN 259 
 
 "Wait to get my own money I guess not. 
 Show me where it is." 
 
 "Remember/* put in Cargan, "that money s 
 mine. And don t have any pipe dreams about the 
 law the law ain t called into things of this sort 
 as a rule. I guess you d be the last to call it. 
 You ll never get away from here with my 
 money." 
 
 Mr. Magee opened the card-room door far 
 ther, and saw the figure of the stranger Hayden 
 confronting the mayor. Mr. Cargan s title of 
 exquisite best described him. The newcomer 
 was tall, fair, fastidious in dress and manner. A 
 revolver gleamed in his hand. 
 
 "Joe," he said firmly, "take me to that money 
 at once." 
 
 "It s out here," replied Bland. He and Hay- 
 den disappeared through the dining-room door 
 into the darkness. Cargan and Max followed 
 close behind. 
 
 Hot with excitement, Mr. Magee slipped from 
 his place of concealment. A battle fit for the 
 gods was in the air. He must be in the midst of 
 it perhaps again in a three-cornered fight it 
 
2<5o SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 would be the third party that would emerge vic 
 torious. 
 
 In the darkness of the dining-room he bumped 
 into a limp clinging figure. It proved to be the 
 Hermit of Baldpate Mountain. 
 
 "I got to talk to you, Mr. Magee," he whis 
 pered in a frightened tremolo. "I got to have a 
 word with you this minute." 
 
 "Not now," cried Magee, pushing him aside. 
 "Later." 
 
 The hermit wildly seized his arm. 
 
 "No, now," he said. "There s strange goings- 
 on, here, Mr. Magee. I got something to tell you 
 about a package of money I found in the 
 kitchen." 
 
 Mr. Magee stood very still. Beside him in the 
 darkness he heard the hermit s excited breathing. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE SIGN OF THE OPEN WINDOW 
 
 UNDECIDED, Mr. Magee looked toward 
 the kitchen door, from behind which came 
 the sound of men s voices. Then he smiled, 
 turned and led Mr. Peters back into the office. 
 The Hermit of Baldpate fairly trembled with 
 news. 
 
 "Since I broke in on you yesterday morning," 
 he said in a low tone as he took a seat on the edge 
 of a chair, "one thing has followed another so 
 fast that I m a little dazed. I can t just get the 
 full meaning of it all." 
 
 "You have nothing on me there, Peters," 
 Magee answered. "I can t either." 
 
 "Well," went on the hermit, "as I say, through 
 
 all this downpour of people, including women, 
 
 I ve hung on to one idea. I m working for you. 
 
 You give me my wages. You re the boss. That s 
 
 261 
 
262 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 why I feel I ought to give what information I 
 got to you." 
 
 "Yes, yes," Mr. Magee agreed impatiently. 
 "Go ahead." 
 
 "Where you find women," Peters continued, 
 "there you find things beyond understanding. 
 History" 
 
 "Get to the point." 
 
 "Well yes. This afternoon I was looking 
 round through the kitchen, sort of reconnoitering, 
 you might say, and finding out what I have to 
 work with, for just between us, when some of 
 this bunch goes I ll easily be persuaded to come 
 back and cook for you. I was hunting round in 
 the big refrigerator with a candle, thinking may 
 be some little token of food had been left over 
 from last summer s rush something in a can 
 that time can not wither nor custom stale, as the 
 poet says and away up on the top shelf, in the 
 darkest corner, I found a little package." 
 
 "Quick, Peters," cried Magee, "where is thai 
 package now?" 
 
 "I m coming to that," went on the hermit, not 
 to be hurried. "What struck me first about the 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 263 
 
 thing was it didn t have any dust on it. Aha/ I 
 says, or words to that effect. I opened it. What 
 do you think was in it?" 
 
 "I don t have to think I know," said Magee. 
 "Money. In the name of heaven, Peters, tell 
 me where you ve got the thing." 
 
 "Just a minute, Mr. Magee. Let me tell it 
 my way. You re right. There was money in 
 that package. Lots of it. Enough to found a 
 university, or buy a woman s gowns for a year. 
 I was examining it careful-like when a shadow 
 came in the doorway. I looked up " 
 
 "Who?" asked Magee breathlessly. 
 
 "That little blinky-eyed Professor Bolton was 
 standing there, most owlish and interested. He 
 came into the refrigerator. That package you 
 have in your hand, Peters, he says, belongs to 
 me. I put it in cold storage so it would keep. 
 I ll take it now. Well, Mr. Magee, I m a peace 
 ful man. I could have battered that professor 
 into a learned sort of jelly if I d wanted to. But 
 I m a great admirer of Mr. Carnegie, on account 
 of the library, and I go in for peace. I knew it 
 wasn t exactly the thing, but " 
 
264 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "You gave him the package?" 
 
 "That s hardly the way I would put it, Mn 
 Magee. I made no outcry or resistance when he 
 took it. Tm just a cook/ I says, in this house. 
 I ain t the trusted old family retainer that retains 
 its fortunes like a safety deposit vault So I let 
 go the bundle. It was weak of me, I know, but 
 I sort of got the habit of giving up money, being 
 married so many years." 
 
 "Peters," said Mr. Magee, *Tm sorry your 
 grip was so insecure, but I m mighty glad you 
 came to me with this matter." 
 
 "He told me I wasn t to mention it to any 
 body," replied the hermit, "but as I say, I sort 
 of look on it that we were here first, and if our 
 guests get to chasing untold wealth up and down 
 the place, we ought to let each other in on it." 
 
 "Correct," answered Magee. "You are a val 
 uable man, Peters. I want you to know that I 
 Appreciate the way you have acted in this affair." 
 Four shadowy figures tramped in through the 
 dining-room door. "I should say," he continued, 
 "that the menu you propose for dinner will 
 prove most gratifying." 
 
THE OPEN .WINDOW 265 
 
 "What oh yes, sir," said Peters. "Is that 
 all?" 
 
 "Quite," smiled Magee. "Unless just a min 
 ute, this may concern you on my word, there s 
 another new face at Baldpate." 
 
 He stood up, and in the light of the fire met 
 Hayden. Now he saw that the face of the latest 
 comer was scheming and weak, and that under 
 a small blond mustache a very cruel mouth 
 sought to hide. The stranger gazed at Magee 
 with an annoyance plainly marked. 
 
 "A friend of mine Mr. er Downs, Mr. 
 Magee," muttered Bland. 
 
 "Oh, come now," smiled Magee. "Let s tell 
 our real names. I heard you greeting your friend 
 a minute ago. How are you, Mr. Hayden?" 
 
 He held out his hand. Hayden looked him 
 angrily in the eyes. 
 
 "Who the devil are you?" he asked. 
 
 "Do you mean," said Magee, "that you didn t 
 catch the name. It s Magee William Hallowell 
 Magee. I hold a record hereabouts, Mr. Hayden. 
 I spent nearly an hour at Baldpate Inn alone. 
 You see, I was the first of our amiable little party 
 
266 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 to arrive. Let me make you welcome. Are you 
 staying to dinner ? You must." 
 
 "I m not," growled Hayden. 
 
 "Don t believe him, Mr. Magee," sneered the 
 mayor, "he doesn t always say what he means. 
 He s going to stay, all right." 
 
 "Yes, you d better, Mr. Hayden," advised 
 Bland. 
 
 "Huh delighted, I m sure," snapped Haydea 
 He strolled over to the wall, and in the light of 
 the fire examined a picture nonchalantly. 
 
 "The pride of our inn," Mr. Magee, follow 
 ing, explained pleasantly, "the admiral. It is 
 within these very walls in summer that he plays 
 his famous game of solitaire." 
 
 Hayden wheeled quickly, and looked Magee in 
 the eyes. A flush crossed his face, leaving it 
 paler than before. He turned away without 
 speaking. 
 
 "Peters," said Magee, "you heard what 
 Mr. Hayden said. An extra plate at dinner, 
 please. I must leave you for a moment, gentle 
 men." He saw that their eyes followed him 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 267 
 
 eagerly full of suspicion, menacing. "We shall 
 all meet again, very shortly." 
 
 Hayden slipped quickly between Magee and 
 the stairs. The latter faced him smilingly, re 
 flecting as he did so that he could love this man 
 but little. 
 
 "Who are you?" said Hayden again. "What 
 is your business here ?" 
 
 Magee laughed outright, and turned to the 
 other men. 
 
 "How unfortunate," he said, "this gentleman 
 does not know the manners and customs of Bald- 
 pate in winter. Those are questions, Mr. Hay 
 den, that we are never impolite enough to ask of 
 one another up here." He moved on toward the 
 stairs, and reluctantly Hayden got out of his 
 path. "I am very happy," he added, "that you 
 are to be with us at dinner. It will not take you 
 long to accustom yourself to our ways, I m sure." 
 
 He ran up the stairs and passed through num 
 ber seven out upon the balcony. Trudging 
 through the snow, he soon sighted the room of 
 Professor Bolton. And as he did so, a little 
 
268 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 shiver that was not due to atmospheric conditions 
 ran down his spine. For one of the professor s 
 windows stood wide open, bidding a welcome to 
 the mountain storm. Peters had spoken the truth. 
 Once more that tight little, right little package 
 was within Mr. Magee s ken. 
 
 He stepped through the open window, and 
 closed it after him. By the table sat Professor 
 Bolton, wrapped in coats and blankets, reading 
 by the light of a solitary candle. The book was 
 held almost touching his nose a reminder of the 
 spectacles tnat were gone. As Magee entered 
 the old man looked up, and a very obvious ex 
 pression of fright crossed his face. 
 
 "Good evening, Professor/ said Magee easily. 
 "Don t you find it rather cool with the window 
 open?" 
 
 "Mr. Magee," replied the much wrapped gen 
 tleman, "I am that rather disturbing progressive 
 a fresh air devotee. I feel that God s good air 
 was meant to be breathed, not barricaded from 
 our bodies." 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested Magee, "I should have 
 left the window open ?" 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 269 
 
 The old man regarded him narrowly. 
 
 "I have no wish to be inhospitable, " he replied. 
 "But if you please " 
 
 "Certainly," answered Magee. He threw open 
 the window. The professor held, up his book. 
 
 "I was passing the time before dinner with my 
 pleasant old companion, Montaigne. Mr. Magee, 
 have you ever read his essay on liars ?" 
 
 "Never," said Magee. "But I do not blame 
 you for brushing up on it at the present time, 
 Professor. I have come to apologize. Yester 
 day morning I referred in a rather unpleasant 
 way to a murder in the chemical laboratory at 
 one of our universities. I said that the professor 
 of chemistry was missing. This morning s pa 
 per, which I secured from Mr. Peters, informs me 
 that he has been apprehended." 
 
 "You need not have troubled to tell me," said 
 the old man. He smiled his bleak smile. 
 
 "I did you an injustice," went on Magee. 
 
 "Let us say no more of it," pleaded Professor 
 Bolton. 
 
 Mr. Magee walked about the room. Warily 
 the professor turned so that the other was at no 
 
270 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 instant at his back. He looked so helpless, so 
 little, so ineffectual, that Mr. Magee abandoned 
 his first plan of leaping upon him there in the 
 silence. By more subtle means than this must his 
 purpose be attained. 
 
 "I suppose," he said, "your love of fresh air 
 accounts for the strolls on the balcony at all 
 hours of the night?" 
 
 The old man merely blinked at him. 
 
 "I mustn t stop," Magee continued. "I just 
 wanted to make my apology, that s all. It was 
 unjust of me. Murder that is hardly in your 
 line. By the way, were you by any chance in my 
 room this morning, Professor Bolton?" 
 
 Silence. 
 
 "Pardon me," remarked the professor at last, 
 "if I do not answer. In this very essay on on 
 liars, Montaigne has expressed it so well. And 
 how much is a false speech less sociable than 
 silence. I am a sociable man." 
 
 "Of course," smiled Magee. He stood look 
 ing down at the frail old scholar before him, and 
 considered. Of what avail u scuffle there in that 
 chill room? The package was no doubt safely 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 
 
 hidden in a corner he could not quickly find. No, 
 he must wait, and watch. 
 
 "Good-by, until dinner," he said, "and may you\- 
 find much in your wise companion s book to jus 
 tify your conduct." 
 
 He went out through the open window, and in 
 another moment stood just outside Miss Nor-, 
 ton s room. She put a startled head out at his] 
 knock. 
 
 "Oh, it s you," she said. "I can t invite you, 
 in. You might learn terrible secrets of the dress-! 
 ing-table mamma is bedecking herself for din 
 ner. Has anything happened ?" 
 
 "Throw something over your head, Juliet," 
 smiled Magee, "the balcony is waiting for you." 
 
 She was at his side in a moment, and they 
 walked briskly along the shadowy white floor. 
 
 "I know who has the money," said Magee 
 softly. "Simply through a turn of luck, I know. 
 I realize that my protestations of what I am go- 1 
 ing to do have bored you. But it looks very 
 much to me as if that package would be in your 
 hands very soon." 
 
 She did not reply. 
 
272 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "And when I have got it, and have given it to 
 you if I do," he continued, "what then?" 
 
 "Then," she answered, "I must go away- 
 very quickly. And no one must know, or they 
 will try to stop me." 
 
 "And after that?" 
 
 "The deluge," she laughed without mirth. 
 
 Up above them the great trees of Baldpate 
 Mountain waved their black arms constantly as 
 though sparring with the storm. At the foot of 
 the buried roadway they could see the lamps of 
 Upper Afjquewan Falls; under those lamps pro 
 saic citizens were hurrying home with the supper 
 groceries through the night. And not one of 
 those citizens was within miles of guessing that 
 up on the balcony of Baldpate Inn a young man 
 had seized a young woman s hand, and was say 
 ing wildly: "Beautiful girl I love you." 
 
 Yet that was exactly what Billy Magee was . 
 doing. The girl had turned her face away. 
 
 "You ve known me just two days," she said. 
 
 "If I can care this much in two days," he said, 
 w think but that s old, isn t it? Sometime soon 
 I m going to say to you: .Whose girl are you?* 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 273 
 
 and you re going to look up at me with a lit 
 tle heaven for two in your eyes and say: Tm 
 Billy Magee s girl. So before we go any further 
 I must confess everything I must tell you who 
 this Billy Magee is this man you re going to 
 admit you belong to, my dear." 
 
 "You read the future glibly," she replied. "Are 
 your prophecies true, I wonder?" 
 
 "Absolutely. Some time ago on my soul, it 
 was only yesterday I asked if you had read a 
 certain novel called The Lost Limousine, and 
 you said you had, and that it wasn t sincere. 
 Well, I wrote it" 
 
 "Oh!" cried the girl. 
 
 "Yes," said Magee, "and I ve done others like 
 it. Oh, yes, my muse has been a nouveau riche 
 lady in a Worth gown, my ambition a big red 
 motor-car. I ve been a scramble a cent, mister 
 troubadour beckoning from the book-stalls. It 
 was good fun writing those things, and it 
 brought me more money than was good 
 for me. I m not ashamed of them; they 
 were all right as a beginning in the game. 
 But the other day I thought an advertisement 
 
274 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 did the trick I turned tired of that sort, and I 
 decided to try the other kind the real kind. I 
 thought it was an advertisement that did it but 
 I see now it was because you were just a few 
 days away." 
 
 "Don t tell me," whispered the girl, "that you 
 came up here to to " 
 
 "Yes," smiled Magee, "I came up here to for 
 get forever the world s giddy melodrama, the 
 wild chase for money through deserted rooms, 
 shots in the night, cupid in the middle distance. 
 I came here to do literature if it s in me to 
 do it." 
 
 The girl leaned limply against the side of Bald- 
 pate Inn. 
 
 "Oh, the irony of it !" she cried. 
 
 "I know," he said, "it s ridiculous. I think all 
 this is meant just for temptation. I shall be 
 firm. I ll remember your parable of the blind 
 girl and the lamp that was not lighted. I ll do 
 the real stuff. So that when you say as you 
 certainly must some day I m Billy Magee s 
 girl you can say it proudly." 
 
 "I m sure," she said softly, "that if I ever do 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 275 
 
 say it oh, no, I didn t say I would" for he had 
 seized her hands quickly "if I ever do say it it 
 will certainly be proudly. But now you don t 
 even know my name my right one. You don t 
 know what I do, nor where I come from, nor 
 what I want with this disgusting bundle of 
 money. I sort of feel, you know that this is in 
 the air at Baldpate, even in the winter time. No 
 sooner have the men come than they begin to talk 
 of love to whatever girls they find here on 
 this very balcony down there under the trees. 
 And the girls listen, for it s in the air, that s all. 
 Then autumn comes, and everybody laughs, and 
 forgets. May not our autumn come when I 
 go away ?" 
 
 "Never," cried Magee. "This is no summer 
 hotel affair to me. It s a real in winter and 
 summer love, my dear in spring and fall and 
 when you go away, I m going too, about ten feet 
 behind." 
 
 "Yes," she laughed, "they talk that way at 
 Baldpate the last weeks of summer. It s part 
 of the game." They had come to the side of the 
 hotel on which was the annex, and the girl 
 
276 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 stopped and pointed. "Look!" she whispered 
 ^breathlessly. 
 
 In a window of the annex had appeared for a 
 moment a flickering yellow light. But only for a 
 moment. 
 
 "I know," said Mr. Magee. "There s some 
 body in there. But that isn t important in com 
 parison. This is no summer affair, dear. Look 
 to the thermometer for proof. I love you. And 
 when you go away, I shall follow." 
 
 "And the book" 
 
 "I have found better inspiration than Bald- 
 pate Inn." 
 
 They walked along for a time in silence. 
 
 "You forget," said the girl, "you only know 
 who has the money." 
 
 "I will get it," he answered confidently. 
 "Something tells me I will. Until I do, I am 
 content to say no more." 
 
 "Good-by," said the girl. She stood in the 
 window of her room, while a harsh voice called 
 "That you, dearie?" from inside. "And I may 
 add," she smiled, "that in my profession^-a fol 
 lowing is considered quite desirable." 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 277 
 
 She disappeared, and Mr. Magee, after a few 
 minutes in his room, descended again to the office. 
 In the center of the room, Elijah Quimby and 
 Hayden stood face to face. 
 
 "What is it, Quimby?" asked Magee. 
 
 "I just ran up to see how things were going," 
 Quimby replied, "and I find him here." 
 
 "Our latest guest," smiled Magee. 
 
 "I was just reminding Mr. Hayden," Quimby 
 said, his teeth set, an angry light in his eyes, 
 "that the last time we met he ordered me from 
 his office. I told you, Mr. Magee, that the Su 
 burban Railway once promised to make use of 
 my invention. Then Mr. Kendrick went away 
 and this man took charge. When I came around 
 to the offices again he laughed at me. When 1 
 came the second time, he called me a loafer and 
 ordered me out." 
 
 He paused, and faced Hayden again. 
 
 "I ve grown bitter, here on the mountain," he 
 said, "as I ve thought over what you and men 
 like you said to me as I ve thought of what 
 might have been and what was yes, I ve 
 grown pretty bitter. Time after time I ve gone 
 
278 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 over in my mind that scene in your office. As 
 I ve sat here thinking you ve come to mean to me 
 all the crowd that made a fool of me. You ve 
 come to mean to me all the crowd that said The 
 public be. damned in my ear. I haven t ever for 
 got how you ordered me out of your office." 
 
 "Well?" asked Hayden. 
 
 "And now," Quimby went on, "I find you tres 
 passing in a hotel left in my care the tables are 
 turned. I ought to show you the door. I ought 
 to put you out." 
 
 "Try it," sneered Hayden. 
 
 "No," answered Quimby, "I ain t going to do 
 it. Maybe it s because I ve grown timid, brood 
 ing over my failure. And maybe it s because I 
 know who s got the seventh key." 
 
 Hayden made no reply. No one stirred for a 
 minute, and then Quimby moved away, and went 
 out through the dining-room door. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 TABLE TALK 
 
 THE seventh key! Mr. Magee thrilled at 
 the mention of it. So Elijah Quimby knew; 
 the identity and the mission of the man who 
 hid in the annex. Did any one else? Magee 
 looked at the broad acreage of the mayor s face, 
 at the ancient lemon of Max s, at Eland s, fright 
 ened and thoughtful, at Hayden s, concerned but 
 smiling. Did any one else know? Ah, yes, of 
 course. Down the stairs the professor of Com 
 parative Literature felt his way to food. 
 
 "Is dinner ready ?" he asked, peering about. 
 
 The candles flickered weakly as they fought 
 the stronger shadows; winter roared at the win 
 dows; somewhere above a door crashed shut 
 Close to its final scene drew the drama at Bald- 
 pate Inn. Mr. Magee knew it, he could not have 
 told why. The others seemed to know it, too. In 
 silence they waited while the hermit scurried 
 
280 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE < 
 
 along his dim way preparing the meal. In silence 
 they sat while Miss Norton and her mother de 
 scended. Once there was a little flurry of inter 
 est when Miss Thornhill and Hayden met at the 
 foot of the stairs. 
 
 "Myra !" Hayden cried. "In heaven s name 
 what does this mean?" 
 
 "Unfortunately," said the girl, "I know all 
 it means." 
 
 And Hayden fell back into the shadows. 
 
 Finally the attitude of the hermit suggested 
 that the dinner was ready. 
 
 "I guess you might as well sit down," he re 
 marked. "It s all fixed, what there is to fix. 
 This place don t need a cook, it needs a commis 
 sary department." 
 
 "Peters," reproved Mag^e. "That s hardly 
 courteous to our guests." 
 
 "Living alone on the mountain," replied the 
 hermit from the dining-room door, "you get to 
 have such a high regard for the truth you can t 
 put courtesy first. You want to, but you haven t 
 the heart." 
 
 The winter guests took their places at the table, 
 
 
TABLE TALK 281 
 
 and the second December dinner at Baldpate Inn 
 got under way. But not so genially as on the 
 previous night did it progress. On the faces of 
 those about him Mr. Magee noted worry and 
 suspicion; now and again menacing cold eyes) 
 were turned upon him; evidently first in the 
 thoughts of those at table was a little package 
 rich in treasure; and evidently first in the 
 thoughts of most of them, as the probable holder 
 of that package, was Mr. Magee himself. Sev 
 eral times he looked up to find Max s cat-like 
 eyes upon him, sinister and cruel behind the in 
 congruous gold-rimmed glasses; several times he 
 saw Hayden s eyes, hostile and angry, seek his 
 face. They were desperate; they would stop at 
 nothing; Mr. Magee felt that as the drama drew 
 to its close they saw him and him alone between 
 them and their golden desires. 
 
 "Before I came up here to be a hermit," re 
 marked Cargan contemporaneously with the re 
 moval of the soup, "which I may say in passing 
 I ain t been able to be with any success owing to 
 the popularity of the sport on Baldpate Moun 
 tain, there was never any candles on the table 
 
282 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 where I et. No, sir. I left them to the people 
 up on the avenue to Mr. Hayden and his kind 
 that like to work in dim surroundings I was 
 always strong for a bright light on my food. 
 What I m afraid of is that I ll get the habit up 
 here, and will be wanting Charlie to set out a 
 silver candelabrum with my lager. Candles d be 
 quite an innovation at Charlie s, wouldn t they, 
 Lou?" 
 
 "Too swell for Charlie s," commented Mr. 
 Max. "Except after closing hours. I ve seen 
 em in use there then, but the idea wasn t glory 
 and decoration." 
 
 "I hope you don t dislike the candles, Mr. 
 Casgan," remarked Miss Norton. "They add 
 such a lot to the romance of the affair, don t you 
 think? I m terribly thrilled by all this. The rat 
 tling of the windows, and the flickering light 
 two lines of a poem keep running through my 
 head : 
 
 My lord he followed after one who whispered 
 
 in his ear 
 The weeping of the candles and the wind is all I 
 
 hear. 
 
TABLE TALK 283 
 
 I don t know who the lord was, nor what he fol 
 lowed perhaps the seventh key. But the weep 
 ing candles and the wind seem so romantic and 
 so like Baldpate Inn to-night. " 
 
 "If I had a daughter your age/ commented 
 Cargan, not unkindly, "she d be at home reading 
 Laura Jean Libbey by the fire, and not chasing 
 after romance on a mountain." 
 
 "That would be best for her, I m sure," replied 
 the girl sweetly. "For then she wouldn t be like 
 ly to find out things about her father that would 
 prove disquieting." 
 
 "Dearie!" cried Mrs. Norton. No one else 
 spoke, but all looked at the mayor. He was bus 
 ily engaged with his food. Smiling his amuse 
 ment, Mr. Magee sought to direct the conversa 
 tion into less personal channels. 
 
 "We hear so much about romance, especially 
 since its widely advertised death," he said. "And 
 to every man I ever met, it meant something dif 
 ferent. Mr. Cargan, speaking as a broad-minded 
 man of the world what does romance mean to 
 you?" 
 
284 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 The mayor ran his fingers through his graying 
 hair, and considered seriously. 
 
 "Romance," he reflected. "Well, I ain t much 
 on the talk out of books. But here s what I 
 see when you say that word to me. It s the night 
 before election, and I m standing in the front 
 window of the little room on Main Street where 
 the boys can always find me. Down the street I 
 hear the snarl and rumble of bands, and pretty 
 soon I see the yellow flicker of torches, like the 
 flicker of that candle, and the bobbing of banners. 
 And then the boys march by. All the boys! 
 Pat Doherty, and Bob Larsen, and Matt Sanders 
 all the boys! And when they get to my win 
 dow they wave their hats and cheer. Just a fat 
 old man in that window, but they ll go to the 
 pavement with any guy that knocks him. 
 They re loyal. They re for me. And so they 
 march by cheering and singing all the boys 
 just for me to see and hear. Well that that s 
 romance to me." 
 
 "Power," translated Mr. Magee. 
 
 "Yes, sir," cried the mayor. "I know I ve got 
 
TABLE TALK 285 
 
 them. All the reformers in the world can t spoil 
 my thrill then. They re mine. I guess old Na 
 poleon knew that thrill. I guess he was the great 
 est romancer the world ever knew. When he 
 marched over the mountains with his starving 
 bunch and looked back and saw them in rags 
 and suffering for him well I reckon old Nap 
 was as close to romance then as any man ever 
 gets." 
 
 "I wonder/ answered Mr. Magee. It came to 
 him suddenly that in each person s definition of 
 this intangible thing might lie exposed something 
 of both character and calling. At the far end of 
 the table Mrs. Norton s lined tired face met his 
 gaze. To her he put his question. 
 
 "Well," she answered, and her voice seemed 
 softer than its wont, "I ain t thought much of that 
 word for a good many years now. But when I 
 do say, I seem to see myself sitting on our 
 porch back home thirty years ago. I ve got on 
 a simple little muslin dress, and I m slender as 
 Elsie Janis, and the color in my cheeks is well, 
 it s the sort that Norton likes. And my hair > 
 but I m thinking of him, of Norton. He s told 
 
286 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 me he wants to make me happy for life, and I ve 
 about decided I ll let him try. I see him com 
 ing up our front walk. Coming to call on me 
 lhave I mentioned I ve got a figure a real sweet 
 figure? That s about what romance means to 
 
 me." 
 
 "Youth, dear?" asks Miss Norton gently. 
 
 "That s it, dearie," answered the older woman 
 dreamily. "Youth." 
 
 For a time those about the table sat in silence, 
 picturing no doubt the slender figure on the steps 
 of that porch long ago. Not without a humorous 
 sort of pity did they glance occasionally toward 
 the woman whom Norton had begged to make 
 happy. The professor of Comparative Litera 
 ture was the first to break the silence. 
 ; "The dictionary," he remarked academically, 
 "would define romance as a species of fictitious 
 writing originally composed in the Romance dia 
 lects, and afterward in prose. But the diction 
 ary is prosaic, it has no soul. Shall I tell you 
 what romance means to me? I will. I see a 
 man toiling in a dim laboratory, where there are 
 strange fires and stranger odors. Night and day 
 
TABLE TALK 287 
 
 he experiments, the love of his kind in his eyes, a 
 desire to help in his heart And then the golden 
 moment the great moment in that quiet dreary 
 cell the moment of the discovery. A serum, a 
 formula what not. He gives it to the world, 
 and a few of the sick are well again, and a few of 
 the sorrowful are glad. Romance means neither 
 youth nor power to me. It means service." 
 
 He bent his dim old eyes on his food, and Mr. 
 Magee gazed at him with a new wonder. Odd 
 sentiments these from an old man who robbed 
 fireplaces, held up hermits, and engaged in mid 
 night conferences by the annex door. More than 
 ever Magee was baffled, enthralled, amused. Now 
 Mr. Max leered about the table and contributed 
 his unsavory bit. 
 
 "Funny, ain t it," he remarked, "the different 
 things the same word means to a bunch of folks. 
 Say romance to me, and I don t see no dim labo 
 ratory. I don t see nothing dim. I see the bright 
 est lights in the world, and the best food, and 
 somebody, maybe, dancing the latest freak dance 
 in between the tables. And an orchestra playing 
 in the distance classy dames all about a taxi 
 
288 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 clicking at the door. And me sending word to 
 the chauffeur Let her click till the milk carts 
 rumble I can pay/ Say that sure is romance 
 to me." 
 
 "Mr. Hayden," remarked Magee, "are we to 
 hear from you?" 
 
 Hayden hesitated, and looked for a moment 
 into the black eyes of Myra Thornhill. 
 
 "My idea has often been contradicted," he 
 said, keeping his gaze on the girl, "it may be 
 again. But to me the greatest romance in the 
 world is the romance of money making dollar 
 piling on dollar in the vaults of the man who 
 started with a shoe-string, and hope, and nerve. 
 I see him fighting for the first thousand and 
 then I see his pile growing, slowly at first faster 
 faster faster until a motor-car brings him 
 to his office, and men speak his name with awe 
 in the streets." 
 
 "Money," commented Miss Thornhill con 
 temptuously. "What an idea of romance for a 
 man." 
 
 "I did not expect," replied Hayden, "that my 
 definition would pass unchallenged. My past ex- 
 
TABLE TALK 289 
 
 periences " he looked meaningly at the girl 
 "had led me to be prepared for that But it is 
 my definition I spoke the truth. You must give 
 me credit for that." 
 
 "I ain t one to blame you," sneered Cargan, 
 * for wanting it noticed when you do side-step a 
 lie. Yes, I certainly " 
 
 "See here, Cargan," blazed Hayden. 
 
 "Yes, you did speak the truth/ put in Miss 
 Thornhill hastily. "You mentioned one word 
 in your definition it was a desecration to drag 
 it in hope. For me romance means only hope. 
 And I m afraid there are a pitiful number in the 
 world to whom it means the same." 
 
 "We ain t heard from the young woman who 
 started all this fuss over a little word," Mr. Car 
 gan reminded them. 
 
 "That s right, dearie," said Mrs. Norton. "You 
 got to contribute." 
 
 "Yes," agreed the girl with the "locks crisped 
 like golden wire," "I will. But it s hard. Cone s 
 ideas change so rapidly. A moment ago if you 
 had said romance to me, I might have babbled of 
 shady corners, of whisperings on the stair, of 
 
290 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 walks down the mountain in the moonlight or 
 even on the hotel balcony." She smiled gaily 
 at Magee. "Perhaps to-morrow, too, the word 
 might mean such rapturous things to me. But to 
 night life is too real and earnest to-night. Serv 
 ice Professor Bolton was right service is often 
 romance. It may mean the discovery of a serum 
 it may mean so cruel a thing as the blighting of 
 another s life romance." She gazed steadily at 
 the stolid Cargan. "It may mean putting an end 
 forever to those picturesque parades past the win 
 dow of the little room on Main Street the room 
 where the boys can always find the mayor of 
 Reuton." 
 
 Still she gazed steadily into Cargan s eyes. And 
 with an amused smile the mayor gazed back. 
 
 "You wouldn t be so cruel as that/ he assured 
 her easily ; "a nice attractive girl like you." 
 
 The dinner was at an end ; without a word the 
 sly little professor rose from the table and hur 
 riedly ascended the stairs. Mr. Magee watched 
 him disappear, and resolved to follow quickly on 
 his heels. But first he paused to give his own 
 version of the word under discussion. 
 
TABLE TALK 291 
 
 "Strange," he remarked, "that none of you 
 gets the picture I do. Romance it is here at 
 your feet in Baldpate Inn. A man climbs the 
 mountain to be alone with his thoughts, to forget 
 the melodrama of life, to get away from the 
 swift action of the world, and meditate. He is 
 alone for very near an hour. Then a telephone 
 bell tinkles, and a youth rises out of the dark to 
 prate of a lost Arabella, and haberdashery. A 
 shot rings out, as the immemorial custom with 
 shots, and in comes a professor of Comparative 
 Literature, with a perforation in his derby hat. 
 A professional hermit arrives to teach the ama 
 teur the fine points of the game. A charming 
 maid comes in too late for breakfast but in* 
 pknty of time for walks on the balcony in the 
 moonlight. The mayor of a municipality conde 
 scends to stay for dinner. A battle in the snow 
 ensues. There is a weird talk of a sum of 
 money. More guests arrive. Dark hints of a 
 seventh key. Why, bless you, you needn t stir 
 from Baldpate Inn in search of your romance." 
 
 He crossed the floor hastily, and put one foot 
 on the lower step of Baldpate s grand stairway. 
 
SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 He kept it there. For from the shadows of the 
 landing Professor Bolton emerged, his blasted 
 derby once more on his head, his overcoat but 
 toned tight, his ear-muffs in place, his traveling- 
 bag and green umbrella in tow. 
 
 "What, Professor," cried Magee, "you re leav 
 ing?" 
 
 Now, truly, the end of the drama had come. 
 Mr. Magee felt his heart beat wildly. What was 
 the end to be? What did this calm departure 
 mean? Surely the little man descending the stair 
 was not, Daniel-like, thrusting himself into this 
 lion s den with the precious package in his pos 
 session ? 
 
 "Yes," the old man was saying slowly. "I am 
 about to leave. The decision came suddenly. I 
 am sorry to go. Certainly I have enjoyed these 
 chance meetings." 
 
 "See here, Doc," said Mr. Bland, uneasily feel 
 ing of his purple tie, "you re not going back and 
 let them reporters have another fling at you ?" 
 
 "1 fear I must," replied the old man. "My 
 duty calls. Yes, they will hound me. I shall hear 
 much of peroxide blondes. I shall be asked again 
 
TABLE TALK 293 
 
 to name the ten greatest in history, a difficult, 
 not to say dangerous task. But I must face the 
 er music, as the vulgar expression goes. I 
 bid you good-by, Mr. Bland. We part friends, I 
 am sure. Again be comforted by the thought 
 that I do not hold the ruined derby against you. 
 Even though, as I have remarked with unpleasant 
 truth, the honorarium of a professor at our uni 
 versity is not large." 
 
 He turned to Magee. 
 
 "I regret more than I can say/ he continued, 
 "parting from you. My eyes fell upon you first 
 on entering this place we have had exciting 
 times together. My dear Miss Norton know 
 ing you has refreshed an old man s heart. I 
 might compare you to another with yellow locks 
 but I leave that to my younger er col 
 leagues. Mr. Cargan good-by. My acquaint 
 ance with you I shall always look back on " 
 
 But the mayor of Reuton, Max and Bland 
 closed in on the old man. 
 
 "Now look here, Doc/ interrupted Cargan. 
 "You re bluffing. Do you get me? You re try 
 ing to put something over. I don t want to be 
 
294 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 rough I like you but I got to get a glimpse at 
 the inside of that satchel. And I got to examine 
 your personal make-up a bit." 
 ! "Dear, dear," smiled Professor Bolton, "you 
 don t think I would steal? A man in my posi 
 tion ? Absurd. Look through my poor luggage 
 if you desire. You will find nothing but the 
 usual appurtenances of travel." 
 
 He stood docilely in the middle of the floor, and 
 blinked at the group around him. 
 
 Mr. Magee waited to hear no more. It was 
 quite apparent that this wise little man carried 
 no package wildly sought by Baldpate s winter 
 guests. Quietly and quickly Magee disappeared 
 up the broad stair, and tried the professor s door. 
 It was locked. Inside he could hear a window 
 banging back and forth in the storm. He ran 
 through number seven and out upon the snow- 
 covered balcony. 
 
 There he bumped full into a shadowy figure 
 hurrying in the opposite direction. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A MAN FROM THE DARK 
 
 KR fully five seconds Mr. Magee and the 
 an with whom he had collided stood fac 
 ing each other on the balcony. The identical 
 moon of the summer romances now hung in the 
 sky, and in its white glare Baldpate Mountain 
 glittered like a Christmas-card. Suddenly the 
 wind broke a small branch from one of the near 
 by trees and tossed it lightly on the snow beside 
 the two men as though it were a signal for bat 
 tle. 
 
 "A lucky chance," said Mr. Magee. "You re a 
 man I ve been longing to meet. Especially since 
 the professor left his window open this after 
 noon." 
 
 "Indeed," replied the other calmly. "May I 
 ask what you want of me?" 
 
 "Certainly." Mr. Magee laughed. "A little 
 295 
 
296 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 package. I think it s in your pocket at this min 
 ute. A package no bigger than a man s hand/ 
 
 The stranger made no reply, but looked quickly 
 about, over his shoulder at the path along which 
 he had come, and then past Mr. Magee at the 
 road that led to freedom. 
 
 "I think it s in your pocket," repeated Mr. 
 Magee, "and I m going to find out." 
 
 "I haven t time to argue with you," said the 
 holder of the seventh key. His voice was cold, 
 calculating, harsh. "Get out of my way and let 
 me pass. Or " 
 
 "Or what?" asked Billy Magee. 
 
 He watched the man lunge toward him in the 
 moonlight. He saw the fist that had the night 
 before been the Waterloo of Mr. Max and the 
 mayor start on a swift true course for his head. 
 Quickly he dodged to one side and closed with 
 his opponent. 
 
 Back and forth through the snow they 
 ploughed, panting, grappling, straining. Mr. 
 Magee soon realized that his adversary was no 
 weakling. He was forced to call into play mus 
 cles he had not used in what seemed ages not 
 
A MAN FROM THE DARK 297 
 
 since he sported of an afternoon in a rather 
 odorous college gymnasium. In moonlight and 
 shadow, up and down, they reeled, staggered, 
 stumbled, the sole jarring notes in that picture of 
 Baldpate on a quiet winter s night. 
 
 "You queered the game last time," muttered 
 the stranger. "But you ll never queer it again/ 
 
 Mr. Magee saved his breath. Together they 
 crashed against the side of the inn. Together 
 they squirmed away, across the balcony to the 
 railing. Still back and forth, now in the moon 
 light, now in shadow, wildly they fought. 
 Once Mr. Magee felt his feet slip from beneath 
 him, but caught himself in time. His strength 
 was going surely quickly. Then suddenly his 
 opponent seemed to weaken in his grip. With a 
 supreme effort Magee forced him down upon the 
 balcony floor, and tumbled on top of him. He 
 felt the chill of the snow under his knees, and its 
 wetness in his cuffs. 
 
 "Now," he cried to himself. 
 
 The other still struggled desperately. But his 
 struggle was without success. For deftly Billy 
 Magee drew from his pocket the precious pack- 
 
\ 
 
 298 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 age about which there had been so much debate 
 on Baldpate Mountain. He clasped it close, rose 
 and ran. In another second he was inside num 
 ber seven, and had lighted a candle at the blazing 
 logs. 
 
 Once more he examined that closely packed lit 
 tle bundle; once more he found it rich in green 
 backs. Assuredly it was the greatly desired 
 thing he had fought for the night before. He 
 had it again. And this time, he told himself, he 
 would not lose sight of it until he had placed it 
 in the hands of the girl of the station. 
 
 The dark shadow of the man he had just 
 robbed was hovering at his windows. Magee 
 turned hastily to the door. As he did so it op 
 ened, and Hayden entered. He carried a pistol in 
 his hand; his face was hard, cruel, determined; 
 his usually expressionless eyes lighted with pleas 
 ure as they fell on the package in Mr. Magee s 
 possession. 
 
 "It seems I m just in time," he said, "to pre 
 sent highway robbery." 
 
 "You think so?" asked Magee. 
 
 "See here, young man," remarked Hayden, 
 
A MAN FROM THE DARK 299 
 
 glancing nervously over his shoulder, "I can t 
 waste any time in talk. Does that money belong 
 to you? No. Well, it does belong to me. I m 
 going to have it. Don t think I m afraid to shoot[ 
 to get it. The law permits a man to fire on the 
 thief who tries to fleece him." 
 
 "The law, did you say?" laughed Billy Magee. 
 "I wouldn t drag the law into this if I were you, 
 Mr. Hayden. I m sure it has no connection with 
 events on Baldpate Mountain. You would be the 
 last to want its attention to be directed here. I ve 
 got this money, and I m going to keep it." 
 
 Hayden considered a brief moment, and then 
 swore under his breath, 
 
 "You re right," he said. "I m not going to 
 shoot. But there are other ways, you whipper- 
 snapper " He dropped the revolver into his 
 pocket and sprang forward. For the second time 
 within ten minutes Mr. Magee steadied himself 
 for conflict. 
 
 But Hayden stopped. Some one had entered 
 the room through the window behind Magee. In 
 the dim light of the single candle Magee saw 
 Hayden s face go white, his lip twitch, his eyes 
 
300 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 glaze with horrible surprise. His arms fell limp 
 ly to his sides. 
 
 "Good God! Kendrick!" he cried. 
 
 The voice of the man with whom Billy Magec 
 had but a moment before struggled on the bal 
 cony answered: 
 
 "Yes, Hayden. I m back." 
 
 Hayden wet his lips with his tongue. 
 
 "What what brought you?" he asked, his 
 voice trailing off weakly on the last word. 
 
 "What brought me?" Suddenly, as from a 
 volcano that had long been cold, fire blazed up in 
 Kendrick s eyes. "If a man knew the road from 
 hell back home, what would it need to bring him 
 back?" 
 
 Hayden stood with his mouth partly open ; al 
 most a grotesque picture of terror he looked in 
 that dim light. Then he spoke, in an odd strained 
 tone, more to himself than to any one else. 
 
 "I thought you were dead," he said "I told 
 myself you d never come back. Over and over 
 in the night I told myself that. But all the time 
 I knew I knew you d come." 
 
 A cry a woman s cry sounded from just 
 
A MAN FROM THE DARK 301 
 
 outside the door of number seven. Into the room 
 came Myra Thorn-hill; quickly she crossed and 
 took Kendrick s hands in hers. 
 ; "David," she sobbed. "Oh, David is it a 
 dream a wonderful dream?" 
 
 Kendrick looked into her eyes, sheepishly at 
 first, then gladly as he saw what was in them. 
 For the light there, under the tears, was such as 
 no man could mistake. Magee saw it. Hayden 
 saw it too, and his voice was even more lifeless 
 when he spoke. 
 
 "Forgive me, David," he said. "I didn t 
 
 mean " 
 
 And then, as he saw that Kendrick did not lis 
 ten, he turned and walked quietly into the bed 
 room of number seven, taking no notice of Car* 
 gan and Bland, who, with the other winter guests 
 of Baldpate, now crowded the doorway leading 
 to the hall. Hayden closed the bedroom door. 
 Mr. Magee and the others stood silent, wonder 
 ing. Their answer came quickly the sharp cry 
 of a revolver behind that closed door. 
 
 It was Mr. Magee who went into the bedroom. 
 The moonlight streamed in through the low win- 
 
 
302 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 dows, and fell brightly on the bed. Across this 
 Hayden lay. Mr. Magee made sure. It was not 
 a pleasant thing to make sure of. Then he took 
 the revolver from the hand that still clasped it, 
 covered the quiet figure on the bed, and stepped 
 back into the outer room. 
 
 "He he has killed himself," he said in a low 
 voice, closing the bedroom door behind him. 
 
 There was a moment s frightened hush; then 
 the voice of Kendrick rang out : 
 
 "Killed himself? I don t understand. Why 
 should he do that? Surely not because no " 
 He looked questioningly into the white face of 
 the girl at his side; she only shook her head. 
 "Killed himself," he repeated, like a man wak 
 ened from sleep. "I don t understand." 
 
 On tiptoe the amateur hermits of Baldpate 
 descended to the hotel office. Mr. Magee saw the 
 eyes of the girl of the station upon him, wide 
 with doubt and alarm. While the others gathered 
 in little groups and talked, he took her to one 
 side. 
 
 "When does the next train leave for Reuton?" 
 he asked her. 
 
A MAN FROM THE DARK 303 
 
 a "In two hours at ten-thirty," she replied. 
 
 "You .must be on it," he told her. "With you 
 will go the two-hundred-thousand-dollar package. 
 I have it in my pocket now." 
 
 She took the news stolidly, and made no reply. 
 
 "Are you afraid ?" asked Magee gently. "You 
 mustn t be. No harm can touch you. I shall stay 
 here and see that no one follows." 
 
 "I m not afraid," she replied. "Just startled, 
 that s all. Did he did he do it because you took 
 this money because he was afraid of what 
 would happen ?" 
 
 "You mean Hayden?" Magee said. "No. This 
 money was not concerned in his death. That 
 is an affair between Kendrick and him." 
 
 "I see," answered the girl slowly. "I m so 
 glad it wasn t the money. I couldn t bear it if 
 it were." 
 
 "May I call your attention," remarked Magee, 
 8 to the fact that the long reign of I m going to is 
 ended, and the rule of Tve done it has begun? 
 I ve actually got the money. Somehow, it doesn t 
 seem to thrill you the way I thought it would." 
 
 "But it does oh, it does !" cried the girl. "I 
 
304 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 was upset for a moment It s glorious newj. 
 And with you on guard here, I m not afraid to 
 carry it away down the mountain and to Reti- 
 ton. I ll be with you in a moment, ready for the 
 journey." 
 
 She called Mrs. Norton and the two went 
 rather timidly up-stairs together. Mr. Magee 
 turned to his companions in the room, and men 
 tally called their roll. They were all there, the 
 professor, the mayor, Max, Bland, Peters, Miss 
 Thornhill, and the newcomer Kendrick, a man 
 prematurely old, grayed at the temples, and with 
 a face yellowed by fever. He and the professor 
 were talking earnestly together, and now the old 
 man came and stood before Magee. 
 
 "Mr. Magee," he said seriously, "I learn from 
 Kendrick that you have in your possession a cer 
 tain package of money that has been much buf 
 feted about here at Baldpate Inn. Now I suggest 
 no, I demand " 
 
 "Pardon me, Professor," Mr. Magee inter 
 rupted. "I have something to suggest even to 
 demand. It is that you, and every one else pres- 
 
A MAN FROM THE DARK 305 
 
 ent, select a chair and sit down. I suggest, 
 though I do not demand, that you pick comforta 
 ble chairs. For the vigil that you are about to 
 begin will prove a long one." 
 
 "What d you mean?" asked the mayor of Reu- 
 ton, coming militantly to Professor Bolton s side. 
 
 Magee did not reply. Miss Norton and her 
 mother came down the stair, the former wrapped 
 in a great coat. She stood on the bottom step, 
 her cheeks flushed, her eyes ablaze. Mr. Magee, 
 going to her side, reflected that she looked 
 charming and wonderful, and wished he had time 
 to admire. But he hadn t. He took from one 
 pocket the pistol he had removed from the hand 
 of Hayden; from the other the celebrated pack 
 age of money. 
 
 "I warn you all," he said, "I will shoot any one 
 who makes a move for this bundle. Miss Norton 
 is going to take it away with her she is to catch 
 the ten-thirty train for Reuton. The train ar 
 rives at its destination at twelve. Much as it 
 pains me to say it, no one will leave this room 
 before twelve-fifteen." 
 
 
3 o6 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "You crook!" roared Cargan. 
 
 Mr. Magee smiled as he put the package in the 
 girl s hand. 
 
 "Possibly," he said. "But, Mr. Cargan, the 
 blackness of the kettle always has annoyed the 
 pot. Do not be afraid," he added to the girl. "Ev 
 ery gentleman in this room is to spend the evening * 
 with me. You will not be annoyed in any way." 
 He looked around the menacing circle. "Go," he 
 said, "and may the gods of the mountain take 
 care of you." 
 
 The little professor of Comparative Literature 
 Stepped forward and stood pompously before 
 Magee. 
 
 "One moment," he remarked. "Before you 
 steal this money in front of our very eyes, I want 
 to inform you who I am, and who I represent 
 here." 
 
 "This is no time," replied Magee, "for light 
 talk on the subject of blondes." 
 
 "This is the time," said the professor warmly, 
 "for me to tell you that Mr. Kendrick here and 
 myself represent at Baldpate Inn the prosecuting 
 attorney of Reuton county. We " 
 
A MAN FROM THE DARK 307 
 
 Cargan, big, red, volcanic, interrupted. 
 
 "Dray ton," he bellowed. "Dray ton sent you 
 here? The rat! The pup! Why, I made that 
 kid. I put him where he is. He won t dare 
 touch me." 
 
 "Won t he?" returned Professor Bolton. "My 
 dear sir, you are mistaken. Drayton fully in 
 tends to prosecute you on the ground that you ar 
 ranged to pass Ordinance Number 45, granting 
 the Suburban Railway the privilege of merging 
 with the Civic, in exchange for this bribe of two 
 hundred thousand dollars. " 
 
 "He won t dare," cried Cargan. "I made him/ 
 
 "Before election," said the professor, "I be 
 lieve he often insisted to you that he would do his 
 duty as he saw it." 
 
 "Of course he did," replied Cargan. "But 
 that s what they all say." 
 
 "He intends to keep his word." 
 
 The mayor of Reuton slid into the shadows. 
 
 "To think he d do this thing to me," he whined. 
 "After all I ve done for him." 
 
 "As I was saying, Mr. Magee," continued the 
 professor, "Mr. Kendrick and I came up here to 
 
 
306 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 secure this package of money as evidence against 
 ,Cargan and the man above. I speak with the 
 voice of the law when I say you must turn this 
 money over to me/ 
 
 For answer Magee smiled at the girl. 
 
 "You d better go now," he said. "It s a long 
 walk down the mountain." 
 
 "You refuse?" cried the professor. 
 
 "Absolutely don t we, Miss Norton?" said 
 Magee. 
 
 "Absolutely," she repeated bravely. 
 
 "Then, sir," announced the old man crush- 
 ingly, "you are little better than a thief, and this 
 girl is your accomplice." 
 
 "So it must look, on the face of it," assented 
 Magee. The girl moved to the big front door, 
 and Magee, with his eyes still on the room, 
 backed away until he stood beside her. He handed 
 her his key. 
 
 "I give you," he said, "to the gods of the 
 
 , mountain. But it s only a loan I shall surely 
 
 want you back. I can t follow ten feet behind, 
 
 as I threatened it will be ten hours instead. 
 
 Good night, and good luck." 
 
A MAN FROM THE DRK 309 
 
 She turned the key in the lock. 
 
 "Billy Magee," she whispered, "yours is a faith 
 beyond understanding. I shall tell the gods of 
 the mountain that I am to be returned. Good 
 night, you dear." 
 
 She went out quickly, and Magee, locking the 
 door after her, thrust the key into his pocket. 
 For a moment no one stirred. Then Mr. Max 
 leaped up and ran through the flickering light to 
 the nearest window. 
 
 There was a flash, a report, and Max came 
 back into the firelight examining a torn trousers 
 leg. 
 
 "I don t mean to kill anybody," explained Mr. 
 Magee. "Just to wing them. But I m not an ex 
 pert I might shoot higher than I intend. So I 
 suggest that no one else try a break for it." 
 
 "Mr. Magee," said Miss Thornhill, "I don t 
 believe you have the slightest idea who that girl 
 is, nor what she wants with the money." 
 
 "That," he replied, "makes it all the more ex 
 citing, don t you think?" 
 
 "Do you mean " the professor exploded, 
 "you don t know her? Well, you young fool." 
 
310 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "It s rather fine of you," remarked Miss 
 Thornhill. 
 
 "It s asinine, if it s true," the professor voiced 
 the other side of it. 
 
 "You have said yourself or at least you claim 
 to have said " Mr. Magee reminded him, "one 
 girl like that is worth a million suffragettes." 
 
 "And can make just as much trouble," com 
 plained Professor Bolton. "I shall certainly see 
 to it that the hermit s book has an honored place 
 in our college library." 
 
 Out of the big chair into which he had sunk 
 came the wail of the uncomprehending Cargan: 
 
 "He s done this thing to me after all I ve 
 done for him." 
 
 "I hope every one is quite comfortable," re 
 marked Mr. Magee, selecting a seat facing the 
 crowd. "It s to be a long wait, you know." 
 
 There was no answer. The wind roared lustily 
 at the windows. The firelight flickered redly on 
 the faces of Mr. Magee s prisoners. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 
 
 IN Upper Asquewan Falls the clock on the old 
 town hall struck nine. Mr. Magee, on guard 
 in Baldpate s dreary office, counted the strokes. 
 She must be half-way down the mountain now 
 perhaps at this very moment she heard Quimby s 
 ancient gate creaking in the wind. He could al 
 most see her as she tramped along through the 
 snow, the lovely heroine of the most romantic 
 walk of all romantic walks on Baldpate to date. 
 Half-way to the waiting-room where she had 
 wept so bitterly; half-way to the curious station 
 agent with the mop of ginger hair. To-night 
 there would be no need of a troubadour to im 
 plore "Weep no more, my lady". William Hal- 
 iowell Magee had removed the cause for tears. 
 
 It was a long vigil he had begun, but there was 
 no boredom in it for Billy Magee. He was top 
 
3 i2 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 great a lover of contrast for that. As he looked 
 around on the ill-assorted group he guarded, he 
 compared them with the happier people of the 
 inn s summer nights, about whom the girl had 
 told him. Instead of these surly or sad folk sit 
 ting glumly under the pistol of romantic youth, 
 he saw maids garbed in the magic of muslin flit 
 through the shadows. Lights glowed softly; a 
 waltz came up from the casino on the breath of 
 the summer breeze. Under the red and white 
 awnings youth and joy and love had their day 
 or their night The hermit was on hand with his 
 postal-carded romance. The trees gossiped in 
 whispers on the mountain. 
 
 And, too, the rocking-chair fleet gossiped in 
 whispers on the veranda, pausing only when the 
 admiral sailed by in his glory. Eagerly it ran 
 down its game. This girl this Myra Thornhill 
 he remembered, had herself been a victim. 
 After Kendrick disappeared she had come there 
 no more, for there were ugly rumors of the man 
 who had fled. Mr. Magee saw the girl and her 
 long-absent lover whispering together in the fire- 
 Hght; he wondered if they, too, imagined them* 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 313 
 
 selves at Baldpate in the summer; if they heard 
 the waltz in the casino, and the laughter of men 
 in the grill-room. 
 
 Ten o clock, said the town hall pompously. She 
 was at the station now. In the room of her tears 
 she was waiting ; perhaps her only companion the, 
 jacky of the "See the World" poster, whose garb 
 was but a shade bluer than her eyes. Who was 
 she? What was the bribe money of the Subur 
 ban Railway to her? Mr. Magee did not know, 
 but he trusted her, and he was glad she had won 
 through him. He saw Professor Bolton walk 
 through the flickering half-light to join Myra 
 Thornhill and Kendrick. 
 
 1 It must be half past by now. Yes from far 
 below in the valley came the whistle of a train* 
 Now she was boarding it. She and the money. 
 Boarding it for where? For what purpose? 
 Again the train whistled. 
 
 "The siege," remarked Mr. Magee, "is more 
 than half over, ladies and gentlemen. " 
 
 The professor of Comparative Literature ap 
 proached him and took a chair at his side. 
 
 "I want to talk with you, Mr. Magee/ he said. 
 
gi4 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "A welcome diversion," assented Magee, his 
 eyes still on the room. 
 
 "I have discussed matters with Miss Thorn- 
 hill," said the professor in a low voice. "She has 
 convinced me that in this affair you have acted 
 from a wholly disinterested point of view. A 
 mistaken idea of chivalry, perhaps. The infat 
 uation of the moment for a pretty face a thing 
 to which all men with red blood in their veins are 
 susceptible a pleasant thing that I would be the 
 last to want banished from the world." 
 
 "Miss Thornhill," replied Billy Magee, "has 
 sized up the situation perfectly except for one 
 rather important detail. It is not the infatuation 
 of the moment, Professor. Say rather that of a 
 lifetime." 
 
 "Ah, yes," the old man returned. "Youth 
 how sure it always is of that. I do not deprecate 
 the feeling. Once, long ago, I, too, had youth and 
 faith. We will not dwell on that, however. Miss 
 Thornhill assures me that Henry Bentley, the son 
 of my friend John Bentley, esteems you highly. 
 She asserts that you are in every respect, as far 
 as her knowledge goes, an admirable young man. 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 315 
 
 I feel sure that after calm contemplation you will 
 see that what you have done is very unfortunate. 
 The package of money which in a giddy moment 
 you have given into a young lady s keeping is 
 much desired by the authorities as evidence 
 against a very corrupt political ring. I am cer 
 tain that when you know all the details you will 
 be glad to return with me to Reuton and do all in 
 your power to help us regain possession of that 
 package." 
 
 And now the town hall informed Mr. Magee 
 that the hour was eleven. He pictured a train 
 flying like a black shadow through the white 
 night. Was she on it safe? 
 
 "Professor Bolton," he said, "there couldn t 
 possibly be any one anywhere more eager than 
 I to learn all the details of this affair to hear 
 your real reason for coming to Baldpate Inn, and 
 to have the peroxide-blond incident properly 
 classified and given its niche in history. But let 
 me tell you again my action of to-night was no 
 mere madness of the moment. I shall stick to it 
 through thick and thin. Now, about the blondes." 
 
 "The blondes," repeated the professor dream- 
 
316 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 ily. "Ah, yes, I must make a small confession of 
 guilt there. I did not come here to escape the re 
 sults of that indiscreet remark, but I really made it 
 about a year ago. Shall I ever forget ? Hardly 
 the newspapers and my wife won t let me. I 
 can never again win a new honor, however digni 
 fied, without being referred to in print as the per 
 oxide-blond advocate. The thing has made me 
 furious. However, I did not come to Baldpate 
 Inn to avoid the results of a lying newspaper 
 story, though many a time, a year ago, when I 
 started to leave my house and saw the reporters 
 camped on my door-step, I longed for the seclu 
 sion of some such spot as this. On the night 
 when Mr. Kendrick and I climbed Baldpate 
 Mountain, I remarked as much to him. And so it 
 occurred to me that if I found any need of ex- 
 planing my presence here, the blond incident 
 would do very well. It was only a white lie." 
 ; "A blond one," corrected Mr. Magee. "I for 
 give you, Professor. And I m mighty glad the 
 incident really happened, despite the pain it 
 caused you. For it in a way condones my own 
 offense and it makes you human, too." 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 317 
 
 "If to err is human, it does/ agreed Professor 
 Bolton. "To begin with, I am a member of the 
 faculty of the University of Reuton, situated, as 
 you no doubt know, in the city of the same name. 
 For a long time I have taken a quiet interest in 
 our municipal politics. I have been up in arms 
 linguistic arms against this odd character 
 Cargan, who came from the slums to rule us with 
 a rod of iron. Every one knows he is corrupt, 
 that he is wealthy through the sale of privilege, 
 that there is actually a fixed schedule of prices 
 for favors in the way of city ordinances. I have 
 often denounced him to my friends. Since I 
 have met him well, it is remarkable, is it not, 
 the effect of personality on one s opinions? I 
 expected to face a devil, with the usual appurte 
 nances. Instead I have found a human, rather 
 likable man. I can well understand now why it is 
 that the mob follows him like sheep. However, 
 that is neither here nor there. He is a crook, and 
 must be punished even though I do like him 
 immense}/." 
 
 Mr. Magee smiled over to where the great bulk 
 of Cargan slouched in a chair. 
 
3i8 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "He s a bully old scout," he remarked. 
 
 "Even so," replied the professor, "his high 
 -handed career of graft in Reuton must come to a 
 speedy close. He is of a type fast vanishing 
 through the awakening public conscience. And 
 his career will end, I assure you, despite the fact 
 that you, Mr. Magee, have seen fit to send our 
 evidence scurrying through the night at the be 
 hest of a chit of a girl. I beg your pardon I 
 shall continue. Young Drayton, the new county 
 prosecutor, was several years back a favorite 
 pupil of mine. After he left law school he fell 
 under the spell of the picturesque mayor of Reu 
 ton. Cargan liked him and he rose rapidly. Dray- 
 ton had no thought of ever turning against his 
 benefactor when he accepted the first favors, but 
 later the open selling of men s souls began to dis 
 gust him. When Cargan offered him the place of 
 prosecutor, a few months ago, Drayton assured 
 him that he would keep his oath of office. The 
 mayor laughed. Drayton insisted. Cargan had 
 not yet met the man he could not handle. He 
 gave Drayton the place." 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP! 1319 
 
 Tht old man leaned forward, and tapped 
 Magee on the knee. 
 
 "It was in me, remember," he went on, "that 
 Drayton confided his resolve to serve the public. 
 I was delighted at the news. A few weeks ago 
 he- informed me his first opportunity was at hand. 
 Through one of the men in his office he had 
 learned that Hayden of the Suburban Electric 
 Was seeking to consolidate that road, which had 
 fallen into partial disrepute under his manage 
 ment during the illness of Thornhill, the presi 
 dent, with the Civic. The consolidation would 
 raise the value of the Suburban nearly two mil 
 lion dollars at the public s expense. Hayden 
 had seen Cargan. Cargan had drafted Ordinance 
 Number 45, and informed Hayden that his price 
 for passing it through the council would be the 
 sum you have juggled in your possession on Bald- 
 "pate Mountain two hundred thousand dollars." 
 "A mere trifle," remarked Magee sarcastically. 
 "So Cargan made Hayden see. Through long 
 experience in these matters the mayor has become 
 careless. He is the thing above the law, if not 
 the law itself. He would have had no fear in 
 
320 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 accepting this money on Main Street at midday. 
 He had no fear when he came here and found he 
 was being spied on. 
 
 "But Hayden there was the difficulty that be 
 gan the drama of Baldpate Inn. Hayden had 
 few scruples, but as events to-night have well 
 proved, Mr. Magee, he was a coward at heart. 
 I do not know just why he lies on your bed 
 tip-stairs at this moment, a suicide that is 
 a matter between Kendrick and him, and one 
 which Kendrick himself has not yet fathomed. 
 As I say, Hayden was afraid of being caught. 
 Andy Rutter, manager of Baldpate Inn for the 
 last few summers, is in some way mixed up in the 
 Suburban. It was he who suggested to Hayden 
 that an absolutely secluded spot for passing this 
 large sum of money would be the inn. The 
 idea appealed to Hayden. Cargan tried to laugh 
 him out of it. The mayor did not relish the 
 thought of a visit to Baldpate Mountain in the 
 *dead of winter, particularly as he considered such 
 precautions unnecessary. But Hayden was firm ; 
 this spot, he pointed out, was ideal, and the 
 mayor at last laughingly gave in. The sum in- 
 
|5 
 
 |p 
 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 321 
 
 \V3lved was well worth taking a little trouble to 
 gain." 
 
 iProfessor Bolton paused, and blinked his dim 
 old eyes. 
 
 "So the matter was arranged," he continued. 
 "Mr. Bland, a clerk in Hayden s employ, was sent 
 up here with the money, which he placed in the 
 safe on the very night of our arrival. The safe 
 had been left open by Rutter ; Bland did not have 
 the combination. He put the package inside, 
 swung shut the door, and awaited the arrival o 
 the mayor." 
 
 "I was present," smiled Magee, "at the cere 
 mony you mention." 
 
 "Yes? All these plans, as I have said, were 
 known to Drayton. A few nights ago he came to 
 me. He wanted to send an emissary to Baldpate 
 a man whom Cargan had never met one who 
 could perhaps keep up the pretense of being here 
 for some other reason than a connection with the 
 bribe. He asked me to undertake the mission, 
 to see all I could, and if possible to secure the 
 package of money. This last seemed hardly/ 
 
322 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 likely. At any rate, I was to gather all the evi 
 dence I could. I hesitated. My library fire never 
 looked so alluring as on that night. Also, I was 
 engaged in some very entertaining researches." 
 
 "I beg your pardon ?" said Billy Magee. 
 
 "Some very entertaining research work." 
 
 "Yes," reflected Magee slowly, "I suppose 
 such things do exist. Go on, please. " 
 
 "I had loudly proclaimed my championship of 
 civic virtue, however, and here was a chance to 
 serve Reuton. I acquiesced. The day I was t 
 start up here, poor Kendrick came back. He, too, 
 had been a student of mine; a friend of both 
 Dray ton and Hay den. Seven years ago he and 
 Hayden were running the Suburban together, 
 under ThornhiU s direction. The two young men 
 became mixed up in a rather shady business deal, 
 which was more of Hayden s weaving than Ken- 
 drick s. Hayden came to Kendrick with the 
 story that they were about to be found out, and 
 suggested that one assume the blame and go 
 away. I am telling you all this in confidence as 
 a friend of my friends, the Bentleys, and a young 
 man whom I like and trust despite your momen- 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 323 
 
 tary madness in the matter of yellow locks we 
 are all susceptible. 
 
 "Kendrick went. For seven years he stayed 
 away, in an impossible tropic town, believing 
 himself sought by the law, for so Hayden wrote 
 him. Not long ago he discovered that the mat 
 ter in which he and Hayden had offended had 
 never been disclosed after all. He hurried back 
 to the states. You can imagine his bitterness. 
 He had been engaged to Myra Thornhill, and the 
 fact that Hayden was also in love with her may 
 have had something to do with his treachery to 
 his friend." 
 
 Magee s eyes strayed to where the two victims 
 of the dead man s falsehood whispered together 
 in the shadows, and he wondered at the calmness 
 with which Kendrick had greeted Hayden in the 
 room above. 
 
 "When Kendrick arrived/* Professor Bolton 
 went on, "first of all he consulted his old friend 
 Drayton. Drayton informed him that he had 
 nothing to fear should his misstep be made pub 
 lic, for in reality there was, at this late day, no 
 crime committed in the eyes of the law. He also 
 
324 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 told Kendrick how matters stood, and of the net 
 he was spreading for Hayden. He had some 
 fears, he said, about sending a man of my years 
 alone to Baldpate Inn. Kendrick begged for the 
 chance to come, too. So, without making his re 
 turn known in Reuton, three nights ago he ac 
 companied me here. Three nights it seems 
 years. I had secured keys for us both from John 
 Bentley. As we climbed the mountain, I noticed 
 your light, and we agreed it would be best if only 
 one of us revealed ourselves to the intruders in 
 the inn. So Kendrick let himself in by a side 
 door while I engaged you and Bland in the office. 
 He spent the night on the third floor. In the 
 morning I told the whole affair to Quimby, 
 knowing his interest in both Hayden and Ken 
 drick, and secured for Kendrick the key to the 
 annex. Almost as soon as I arrived " 
 
 "The curtain went up on the melodrama," sug 
 gested Mr. Magee. 
 
 "You state it vividly and with truth," Profes 
 sor Bolton replied. "Night befwe last the ordi 
 nance numbered 45 was due to pass the council. 
 It was arranged that when it did, Hayden, 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 325 
 
 through his man Rutter, or personally, would 
 telephone the combination of the safe to the 
 mayor of Reuton. Cargan and Bland sat in the 
 office watching for the flash of light at the tele 
 phone switchboard, while you and I were Max s 
 prisoners above. Something went wrong. Hay- 
 den heard that the courts would issue an injunc 
 tion making Ordinance Number 45 worthless. 
 So, although the council obeyed Cargan s in 
 structions and passed the bill, Hayden refused to 
 give the mayor the combination." 
 
 The old man paused and shook his head won- 
 deringly. 
 
 "Then melodrama began in dead earnest," he 
 continued. "I have always been a man of peace, 
 and the wild scuffle that claimed me for one of 
 its leading actors from that moment will remain 
 in my memory as long as I live. Cargan dyna 
 mited the safe. Kendrick held him up ; you held 
 up Kendrick. I peeked through your window 
 and saw you place the package of money under 
 a brick in youpfireplace " 
 
 "You the curtains were down," interrupted 
 Magee. 
 
326 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I found a half-inch of open space," explained 
 the old man. "Yes, I actually lay on my stomach 
 in the snow and watched you. In the morning, 
 for the first time in my life, I committed robbery. 
 My punishment was swift and sure. Bland 
 swooped down upon me. Again this afternoon, 
 I came upon the precious package, after a long 
 search, in the hands of the Hermit of Baldpate- 
 I thought we were safe at last when I handed the 
 package to Kendrick in my room to-night but I 
 had not counted on the wild things a youth like 
 you will do for love of a designing maid." 
 
 Twelve o clock! The civic center of Upper 
 Asquewan Falls proclaimed it. Mr. Magee had 
 never been in Reuton. He was sorry he hadn t. 
 He had to construct from imagination alone the 
 great Reuton station through which the girl and 
 the money must now be hurrying where ? The 
 question would not down. Was she as the pro 
 fessor believed designing? 
 
 "No," said Mr. Magee, answering aloud his 
 own question. "You are wrong, sir. I do not 
 know just what the motives of Miss Norton 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 327 
 
 were in desiring this money, but I will stake my 
 reputation as an honest hold-up man that they 
 were perfectly all right." 
 
 "Perhaps," replied the other, quite uncon 
 vinced. "But what honest motive could she 
 have? I am able to assign her no role in this 
 little drama. I have tried. I am able to see no 
 connection between her and the other characters. 
 What" 
 
 "Pardon me," broke in Magee. "But would 
 you mind telling me why Miss Thornhill came up 
 to Baldpate to join in the chase for the package?" 
 
 "Her motive," replied the professor, "does her 
 great credit. For several years her father, Henry 
 Thornhill, has been forced through illness to 
 leave the management of the railway s affairs to 
 his vice-president, Hayden. Late yesterday the 
 old man heard of this proposed bribe on his sick 
 bed. He was very nearly insane at the thought of 
 the disgrace it would bring upon him. He tried to 
 rise himself and prevent the passing of the pack 
 age. His daughter a brave loyal girl herself 
 undertook the task." 
 
328 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Then," said Mr. Magee, "Miss Thornhill is 
 not distressed at the loss of the most important 
 evidence in the case." 
 
 "I have explained the matter to her/ returned 
 Professor Bolton. "There is no chance whatever 
 that her father s name will be implicated. Both 
 Dray ton and myself have the highest regard for 
 his integrity. The whole affair was arranged 
 when he was too ill to dream of it. His good 
 name will be smirched in no way. The only man 
 involved on the giver s side is dead in the room 
 above. The man we are after now is Cargan. 
 Miss Thornhill has agreed that it is best to prose 
 cute. That eliminates her." 
 
 "Did Miss Thornhill and Kendrick meet for 
 the first time, after his exile, up-stairs in num 
 ber seven ?" Mr. Magee wanted to know. 
 
 "Yes," answered Professor Bolton. "In one 
 of his letters long ago Hayden told Kendrick he 
 was engaged to the girl. It was the last letter 
 Kendrick received from him." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "The important point now," the old man went 
 on, "is the identity of this girl to whom you have 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 329 
 
 made your princely gift, out of the goodness of 
 your young heart I propose to speak to the 
 woman she has introduced as her mother, and 
 elicit what information I can." 
 t He crossed the floor, followed by Mr. Magee, 
 and stood by the woman s chair. She looked up, 
 her eyes heavy with sleep, her appearance more 
 tawdry than ever in that faint light. 
 
 "Madam," remarked the professor, with the 
 air of a judge trying a case, "your daughter has 
 to-night made her escape from this place with a 
 large sum of money earnestly desired by the pros 
 ecuting attorney of Reuton county. In the name 
 of the law, I command you to tell me her desti 
 nation, and what she proposes to do with that 
 package of greenbacks." 
 
 The woman blinked stupidly in the dusk. 
 
 "She ain t my daughter/ she replied, and Mr. 
 Magee s heart leaped up. "I can tell you that 
 much. I keep a boarding-house in Reuton and 
 Miss the girl you speak about has been my 
 boarder for three years. She brought me up here 
 as a sort of chaperon, though I don t see as I m 
 old enough for that yet. You don t get nothing 
 
330 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 else out of me except that she is a perfectly 
 lovely young woman, and your money couldn t 
 be safer with the president of the United States." 
 
 The puzzled professor of Comparative Litera 
 ture caressed his bald head thoughtfully. "I er 
 " he remarked. Mr. Magee could have em 
 braced this faded woman for her news. He 
 looked at his watch. It was twelve-twenty. 
 
 "The siege is over," he cried. "I shall not at 
 tempt to direct your actions any longer. Mr. 
 Peters, will you please go down to the village and 
 bring back Mr. Quimby and the coroner?" 
 
 The coroner !" The mayor of Reuton jumped 
 to his feet. "I don t want to be in on any inquest 
 scene. Come on, Max, let s get out of here." 
 
 Bland stood up, his face was white and wor 
 ried, his gay plumage no longer set the tone for 
 his mood. 
 
 "I think I ll go, too," he announced, looking 
 hopefully at Magee. 
 
 "I m no longer your jailer," Magee said. 
 "Professor, these gentlemen are your witnesses. 
 Do you wish to detain them ?" 
 
 "See here," cried the mayor angrily, "there 
 
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP 331 
 
 ain t no question but that you can find me in Reu- 
 ton any time you want me. At the little room on 
 Main Street anybody can tell you my hours 
 the door s always open to any reformer that has 
 the nerve to climb the stairs. Look me up there. 
 I ll make it interesting for you." 
 
 "I certainly shall," the professor replied. "And 
 very soon. Until then you may go when and 
 Where you please." 
 
 "Thanks," sneered the mayor. "I ll expect 
 you. I ll be ready. I ve had to get ready to 
 answer your kind before. You think you got me, 
 eh? Well, you re a fool to think that. As for 
 Drayton, the pup, the yellow-streaked pup I ll 
 talk to Mister Drayton when I get back to Reu- 
 ton." 
 
 "Before you go, Bland," remarked Magee, 
 .smiling, "I want to ask about Arabella. Where 
 did you get her?" 
 
 "Some of it happened to a friend of mine," 
 the ex-haberdasher answered, "a friend that keeps 
 a clothing store. I got this suit there. I changed 
 the story, here and there. He didn t write her 
 no note, though he thought seriously of it. And 
 
332 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 he didn t run away and hide. The last I seen of 
 him he was testing the effect of the heart-balm on 
 sale behind the swinging doors." 
 
 Mr. Magee laughed, but over the long lean face 
 of Bland not the ghost of a smile flitted. He 
 was frightened, through and through. 
 
 "You re a fine bunch," sneered Mr. Max. "Re 
 formers, eh? Well, you ll get what the rest of 
 em always got. We ll tie you up in knots and 
 leave you on the door-step of some orphan asylum 
 before we re through with you." 
 
 "Come on, Lou," said Cargan. "Drayton s a 
 smart guy, Doc. Where s his proof? Eloped 
 with the bundle of dry goods this young man s 
 taken a fancy to. And even if he had the money 
 I ve been up against this many a time. You re 
 wasting your talents, Doc. Good night! Come 
 on, boys." 
 
 The three stamped out through the dining- 
 room, and from the window Mr. Magee watched 
 them disappear down the road that stretched to 
 Asquewan Falls. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A RED CARD 
 
 MR. MAGEE turned back from the win 
 dow to the dim interior of the hotel 
 office. He who had come to Baldpate Inn to court 
 loneliness had never felt so lonely in his life. 
 For he had lost sight of her in the great Reuton 
 station of his imagination she had slipped from 
 his dreams to go where he could not follow, 
 even in thought. He felt as he knew this great 
 bare room must feel each fall when the last laugh 
 died away down the mountain, and the gloom 
 of winter descended from drab skies. 
 
 Selecting a log of the hermit s cutting from 
 the stock beside the hearth, Mr. Magee tossed it 
 on the fire. There followed a shower of sparks > 
 and a flood of red light in the room. Through 
 this light Kendrick advanced to Magee s side, and 
 the first of the Baldpate hermits saw that the 
 333 
 
334 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 man s face was lined by care, that his eyes were 
 tired even under the new light in them, that his 
 mouth was twisted bitterly. 
 
 "Poor devil," thought Magee. 
 
 Kendrick drew up chairs for himself and Ma- 
 gee, and they sat down. Behind them the bulky 
 Mrs. Norton dozed, dreaming perhaps of her 
 Reuton boarding-house, while Miss Thornhill 
 and the professor talked intermittently in low 
 tones. The ranks at Baldpate were thinning 
 rapidly; before long the place must settle back 
 with a sigh in the cold, to wait for its first sum 
 mer girl. 
 
 "Mr. Magee," said Kendrick nervously, "you 
 have become involved in an unkind, a tragic 
 story. I do not mean the affair of the bribe- 
 I refer to the matter between Hayden and my 
 self. Before Peters comes back with the men 
 he went for I should like to tell you some of 
 the facts of that story." 
 
 "If you had rather not " began Magee. 
 
 "No," replied Kendrick, "I prefer that you 
 should know. It was you who took the pistol 
 from his hand. I do not believe that even I 
 
A RED CARD 335 
 
 can tell you all that was in Hayden s mind when 
 he went into that other room and closed the door. 
 It seems to me preposterous that a man of his 
 sort should take his life under the circumstances. 
 I feel, somehow, that there is a part of the story 
 even I do not know. But let that be." 
 He bowed his head in his hands. 
 "Ever since I came into this room," he went 
 on, "the eyes of a pompous little man have been 
 following me about. They have constantly re 
 called to me the nightmare of my life. You have 
 noticed, no doubt, the pictures of the admiral 
 that decorate these walls?" 
 
 "I have," replied Magee. He gazed curiously 
 at the nearest of the portraits. How persistently 
 this almost mythical starched man wove in and 
 out of the melodrama at Baldpate Inn. 
 
 "Well," continued Kendrick, "the admiral s 
 eyes haunt me. Perhaps you know that he plays 
 a game a game of solitaire. I have good rea 
 son to remember that game. It is a silly in 
 consequential game. You would scarcely believe 
 that it once sent a man to hell." 
 He stopped. 
 
336 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I am beginning in the middle of my story," 
 he apologized. "Let me go back. Six years ago 
 I was hardly the man you see now I was at 
 least twenty years younger. Hayden and I 
 worked together in the office of the Suburban 
 Railway. We had been close friends at college 
 I believed in him and trusted him, although I 
 knew he had certain weaknesses. I was a happy 
 man. I had risen rapidly, I was young, . the 
 future was lying golden before me and I was 
 engaged. The daughter of Henry Thornhill, 
 our employer the girl you have met here at 
 Baldpate had promised to be my wife. Hayden 
 had also been a suitor, but when our engagement 
 was announced he came to me like a man, and I 
 thought his words were sincere. 
 
 "One day Hayden told me of a chance we 
 might take which would make us rich. It was 
 not altogether within the law. But it was the 
 sort of thing that other men were doing con 
 stantly, and Hayden assured me that as he had 
 arranged matters it was absolutely safe. My 
 great sin is that I agreed we should take the 
 
A RED CARD 337 
 
 chance a sin for which I have paid, Mr. Magee, 
 over and over." 
 
 Again he paused, and gazed steadily at the fire. 
 Again Magee noted the gray at his temples, the 
 aftermath of fevers in his cheeks. 
 
 "We took the chance," he went on. "For a 
 time everything went well. Then one bluster 
 ing March night Hayden came to me and told 
 me we were certain to be caught Some of his 
 plans had gone awry. I trusted him fully at the 
 time, you understand he was the man with 
 whom I had sat on the window-seat of my room 
 at college, settling the question of immortality, 
 and all the other great questions young men settle 
 at such times. I have at this moment no doubt 
 that4ie was quite truthful when he said we were 
 in danger of arrest. We arranged to meet the 
 next night at the Argots Club and decide on what 
 we should do. 
 
 "We met in the library of the club. Hayden 
 came in to me from the card-room adjoining, 
 where he had been watching the admiral dodder 
 ing over his eternal game. The old man had be- 
 
338 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 come a fixture at the club, like Parker down at 
 the door, or the great chandelier in the hall. No 
 one paid any attention to him; when he tried to 
 talk to the younger men about his game they fled 
 as from a pestilence. Well, as I say, Hayden 
 came to meet me, and just at that moment the ad 
 miral finished his game and went out. We were 
 alone in the library. 
 
 "Hayden told me he had thought the matter 
 over carefully. There was nothing to do but to 
 clear out of Reuton forever. But why, he argued, 
 should we both go? Why wreck two lives? It 
 would be far better, he told me, for one to as 
 sume the guilt of both and go away. I can see 
 him now how funny and white his face looked 
 in that half-lighted room how his hands trem 
 bled. I was far the calmer of the two. 
 
 "I agreed to his plan. Hayden led the way into 
 the room where the admiral had been playing. 
 We went up to the table, over which the green- 
 shaded light still burned. On it lay two decks of 
 cards, face up. Hayden picked up the nearest 
 deck, and shuffled it nervously. His face God, 
 it was like the snow out there on the mountain." 
 
A RED CARD 3S9 
 
 Kendrick closed his eyes, and Magee gazed at 
 him in silent pity. 
 
 "He held out the deck," went on the exile 
 softly, "he told me to draw. He said if the card 
 was black, he d clear out. But if it s red, David/ 
 he said, why you got to go/ I held my 
 breath, and drew. It was a full minute before I 
 dared look at the card in my hand. Then I 
 turned it pver and it was red a measly little 
 red two-spot. I don t suppose a man ever real 
 izes all at once what such a moment means. I 
 remember that I was much cooler than Hayden. 
 It was I who had to brace him up. I I even 
 tried to joke with him. But his face was like 
 death. He hardly spoke at all at first, and then 
 suddenly he became horribly talkative. I left 
 him talking wildly I left Reuton. I left the 
 girl to whom I was engaged/ 
 
 To break the silence that followed, Mr. Magee 
 Jeaned forward and stirred the logs. 
 
 "I don t want to bore you," Kendrick said, 
 trying to smile. "I went to a little town in South 
 America. There was no treaty of extradition 
 there nor anything else civilized and decent. I 
 
340 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 smoked cigarettes and drank what passed for 
 rum, on the balcony of an impossible hotel, and 
 otherwise groped about for the path that leads to 
 the devil. After a year, I wrote to Hayden. He 
 answered, urging me to stay away. He inti 
 mated that the thing we had done was on my 
 shoulders. I was ashamed, frightfully unhappy. 
 I didn t dare write to her. I had disgraced her. 
 I asked Hayden about her, and he wrote back 
 that she was shortly to marry him. After that I 
 didn t want to come back to Reuton. I wanted 
 most to die. 
 
 "The years crept by on the balcony pf that 
 impossible hotel. Six of them. The first in bit 
 ter memories, memories of a red card that danced 
 fiendishly before my eyes when I closed them 
 the last in a fierce biting desire to come back to 
 the world I had left. At last, a few months ago, 
 I wrote to another college friend of mine, Dray- 
 ton, and told him the whole story. I did not 
 know that he had been elected prosecutor in Reu 
 ton. He answered with a kind pitying letter 
 and finally I knew the horrible truth. Nothing 
 had ever happened. The thing we had done had 
 
A RED CARD 341 
 
 never been discovered. Hayden had lied. He 
 had even lied about his engagement to Myra 
 Thornhill. There, he had made a reality out 01 
 what was simply his great desire. 
 
 "You can imagine my feelings. Six years in 
 a tomb, a comic opera sort of tomb, where a 
 silly surf was forever pounding, and foolish palms 
 kept waving. Six years for nothing. Six 
 years, while Hayden, guiltier than I, stayed be 
 hind to enjoy the good things of life, to plead for 
 the girl whose lover he had banished. 
 
 "I lost no time in coming north. Three days 
 ago I entered Drayton s office. I was ready and 
 willing that the wrong Hayden and I had done 
 should be made public. Dray ton informed me 
 that legally there had been no crime, that Hayden 
 had straightened things out in time, that we had 
 defrauded no one. And he told me that for what 
 ever sin I had committed he thought I had more 
 than atoned down there in that town that God 
 forgot. I think I had. He explained to me about 
 the trap he had laid for Hayden up here at Bald- 
 pate Inn. I begged to help. What happened 
 after, you know as well as I." 
 
342 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Yes, I think I do," agreed Mr. Magee softly. 
 
 "I have told you the whole story," Kendrick 
 replied, "and yet it seems to me that still it is 
 not all told. Why should Hayden have killed 
 himself? He had lied to me, it is true, but life 
 was always sweet to him, and it hardly seems to 
 me that he was the sort to die simply because his 
 falsehood was discovered. Was there some other 
 act of cruelty some side to the story of which 
 we are none of us aware ? I wonder." 
 
 He was silent a moment. 
 
 "Anyhow, I have told you all I know," he said. 
 "Shall I tell it also to the coroner ? Or shall we 
 allow Hayden s suicide to pass as the result of his 
 implication in this attempt at bribery? I ask 
 your advice, Mr. Magee." 
 
 "My advice," returned Magee, "is that you be 
 fuddle no pompous little village doctor with the 
 complication of this unhappy tale. No, let the 
 story be that Hayden killed himself as the toils 
 closed in on him the toils of the law that pun 
 ishes the bribe giver now and then and oc 
 casionally. Mr. Kendrick, you have my deepest 
 sympathy. Is it too much for me to hope" he 
 
A RED CARD 343 
 
 glanced across the room to where Myra Thorn- 
 hill sat -beside the professor "that the best of 
 your life is yet to come that out of the wreck 
 this man made of it you may yet be happy ?" 
 
 Kendrick smiled. 
 
 "You are very kind," he said. "Twice we have 
 met and battled in the snow, and I do not hold it 
 against you that both times you were the victor. 
 Life in a tropic town, Mr. Magee, is not exactly 
 a muscle-building experience. Once I might have 
 given the whole proceeding a different turn. Yes, 
 Miss Thornhill has waited for me all these years 
 waited, believing. It is a loyalty of which I 
 can not speak without you understand. She 
 knows why I went away why I stayed away. 
 She is still ready to marry me. I shall go again 
 into the Suburban office and try to lift the road 
 from the muck into which it has fallen. Yes, 
 it is not too much for me to hope and for 
 you in your kindness that a great happiness is 
 still for me." 
 
 "Believe me, I m glad," replied Magee with 
 youthful enthusiasm, holding out his hand. "I m 
 sorry I spoiled your little game up here, but " 
 
344 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I understand/ smiled Kendrick. "I think 
 none the less of you for what you have done. 
 And who knows ? It may turn out to have been 
 the wisest course after all." 
 
 Ah, would it ? Mr. Magee walked to the win 
 dow, pondering on the odd tangle of events that 
 had not yet been completely straightened put. 
 Certainly her eyes were an honest blue as well 
 as a beautiful but who was she? Where was 
 she? The great figure of Mrs. Norton stirred 
 restlessly near at hand; the puffed lids of her 
 eyes opened. 
 
 "Mr. Magee," she said, when she had made 
 out his figure by the window, "you ve been a true 
 friend, as I might say, to a couple of mad fe 
 males who ought to have been at home by their 
 own firesides, and I m going to ask one more 
 favor of you. Find out when the next train goes 
 to Reuton, and see that I m at the station an 
 hour or two before it pulls out." 
 
 "I ll do that, Mrs. Norton," smikd Magee. 
 "By the way, is Norton the name?" 
 
 "Yes," answered the woman, "that s my name. 
 Of course, it ain t hers. I can t tell that." 
 
A RED CARD 345 
 
 "No matter," said Mr. Magee, "shell probably 
 change it soon. Can t you tell me something 
 about her just a tiny bit of information. Just 
 a picture of where she is now, and what she s 
 doing with that small fortune I gave her." 
 
 "Where is she now?" repeated Mrs. Norton. 
 "She s home and in bed in my second floor front, 
 unless she s gone clear crazy. And that s where 
 I wish I was this minute in bed though it s a 
 question in my mind if I ll ever be able to sleep 
 again, what with the uproar and confusion my 
 house is probably in by this time, leaving it in 
 charge of a scatter-brained girl. Norton always 
 used to say if you want a thing done right, do it 
 yourself, and though he didn t always live up to 
 the sentiment, letting me do most things he 
 wanted done right, there was a lot of truth in his 
 words. I certainly must get back to Reuton, just 
 as quick as the railroad will take me." 
 
 "Why did you come?" prodded Mr. Magee. 
 "Why did you leave your house on this strange 
 mission ?" 
 
 "The Lord knows," replied the woman. "I 
 certainly never intended to, but she begged and 
 
346 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 pleaded, and the first thing I knew, I was on a 
 train. She has winning ways, that girl maybe 
 you ve noticed ?" 
 
 "I have/ assented Billy Magee. 
 
 "I thought so. No, Mr. Magee, I can t tell you 
 nothing about her. I ain t allowed to even you 
 that has been so kind. She made me promise. 
 He ll know soon enough, she kept saying. But 
 I will tell you, as I told you before, there s no 
 occasion to worry about her unless you was to 
 think was she held up and murdered with all 
 that money on her, the brave little dear. If 
 you was considering offering yourself for the job 
 of changing her name, Mr. Magee, I say go in 
 and do it. It sure is time she settled down and 
 gave up this this gave it all up before some 
 thing awful happens to her. You won t forget 
 the very next train, Mr. Magee ?" 
 
 "The very next," Magee agreed. 
 
 In through the dining-room door stamped 
 Quimby, grave of face, dazed at being roused 1 
 from sleep, and with him an important little man 
 whose duty it was to investigate at Upper Asq-ue- 
 wan Falls such things as had happened that night 
 
A RED CARD 347 
 
 at Baldpate. Even from his slumber he rose with 
 the air of a judge and the manner of a Sherlock 
 Holmes. For an hour he asked questions, and 
 in the end he prepared to go in a seemingly satis 
 fied state of mind. 
 
 Quimby s face was very awed when he came 
 down-stairs after a visit to the room above. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" he said to Magee. "I m sorry 
 he was so young." For such as Quimby carry 
 no feud beyond the gates. He went over and 
 took Kendrick s hand. 
 
 "I never had a chance," he said, "to thank you 
 for all you tried to do for me and my invention." 
 
 "And it came to nothing in the end?" Ken- 
 drick asked. 
 
 "Nothing," Quimby answered. "I I had to 
 creep back to Baldpate Mountain finally broke 
 and discouraged. I have been here ever since. 
 All my blue prints, all my models they re locked 
 away forever in a chest up in the attic." 
 
 "Not forever, Quimby," Kendrick replied. "I 
 always did believe in your invention I believe in 
 it still. When I get back into the harness Fir 
 sure I can do something for you." 
 
348 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Quimby shook his head. He looked to be hall 
 asleep. 
 
 "It don t seem possible," he said. "No it s 
 all been buried so long all the hope all the 
 plans it don t seem possible it could ever come 
 to life again." 
 
 "But it can, and it will," cried Kendrick. "I m 
 going to lay a stretch of track in Reuton with 
 your joints. That s all you need they ll have to 
 use em then. We ll force the Civic into it. We 
 can do it, Quimby we surely can." 
 
 Quimby rubbed his hand across his eyes. 
 
 "Ypu ll lay a stretch of track " he repeated. 
 "That s great news to me, Mr. Kendrick. I I 
 can t thank you now." His voice was husky. 
 "I ll come back and take care of him," he said, 
 jerking his head toward the room up-stairs. "I 
 got to go now this minute I got to go and tell 
 my wife. I got to tell her what you ve said.* 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 EXEUNT OMNES, AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 
 
 AT FOUR in the morning Baldpate Inn, 
 wrapped in the arms pf winter, had all 
 the rare gaiety and charm of a baseball bleechers 
 on Christmas Eve. Looking gloomily out the 
 window, Mr. Magee heard behind him the steps 
 on the stairs and the low cautions of Quimby, 
 and two men he had brought from the village, 
 who were carrying something down to the dark 
 carriage that waited outside. He did not look 
 round. It was a picture he wished to avoid. 
 
 So this was the end the end of his two and 
 a half days of solitude the end of his light- 
 hearted exile on Baldpate Mountain. He thought 
 of Bland, lean and white of face, gay of garb, 
 fleeing through the night, his Arabella fiction 
 disowned in the real tragedy that had followed. 
 He thought of Cargan and Max, also fleeing, 
 349 
 
350 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 wrathful, sneering, by Eland s side. He thought 
 of Hay den, jolting down the mountain in that 
 black wagon. So it ended. 
 
 So it ended most preposterous end with 
 William Hallowell Magee madly, desperately, in 
 love. By the gods in love! In love with a fair 
 gay-hearted girl for whom he had fought, and 
 stolen, and snapped his fingers at the law as it 
 blinked at him in the person of Professor Bolton. 
 Billy Magee, the calm, the unsusceptible, who 
 wrote of a popular cupid but had always steered 
 clear of his shots. In love with a girl whose name 
 he did not know; whose motives were mostly in 
 the fog. And he had come up here to be alone. 
 
 For the first time in many hours he thought of 
 New York, of the fellows at the club, of what 
 they would say when the jocund news came that 
 Billy Magee had gone mad on a mountainside. 
 ,He thought of Helen Faulkner, haughty, unper 
 turbed, bred to hold herself above the swift catas- 
 ^rophies of the world. He could see the arch of 
 her patrician eyebrows, the shrug of her exquisite 
 shoulders, when young Williams hastened up the 
 avenue and poured into her ear the merry story. 
 
AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 351 
 
 Well so be it He had never cared for her. In 
 her superiority he had found a challenge, in her 
 icy indifference a trap, that lured him on to try 
 his hand at winning her. But he had never for a 
 moment caught a glimmering of what it was 
 really to care to care as he cared now for the 
 girl who had gone from him somewhere down 
 the mountain. 
 
 Quimby dragged into the room, the strain of a 
 rather wild night in Upper Asquewan Falls in his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Jake Peters asked me to tell you he ain t com 
 ing back," he said. "Mis Quimby is getting 
 breakfast for you down at our house. You better 
 pack up now and start down, I reckon. Your 
 train goes at half past six." 
 
 Mrs. Norton jumped up, proclaiming that she 
 must be aboard that train at any cost. Miss 
 Thornhill, the professor and Kendrick ascended 
 the stairs, and in a moment Magee followed. 
 
 He stepped softly into number seven, for the 
 tragedy of the rooms was still in the air. Vague 
 shapes seemed to flit about him as he lighted a 
 candle. They whispered in his ear that this was 
 
352 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 to have been the scene of achievement ; that here 
 he was to have written the book that should make 
 his place secure. Ah, well, fate had decreed it 
 .otherwise. It had set plump in his path the 
 melodrama he had come up to Baldpate to avoid. 
 Ironic fate, she must be laughing now in the 
 sleeve of her kimono. Feeling about in the 
 shadows Magee gathered his things together, put 
 them in his bags, and with a last look at number 
 seven, closed the door forever on its many excite 
 ments. 
 
 A shivering group awaited him at the foot of 
 the stair. Mrs. Norton s hat was on at an angle 
 even the most imaginative milliner could not have 
 approved. The professor looked older than ever; 
 even Miss Thornhill seemed a little less statu 
 esque and handsome in the dusk. Quimby led the 
 way to the door, they passed through it, and Mr. 
 Magee locked it after them with the key Hal 
 Bentley had blithely given him on Forty-fourth 
 Street, New York. 
 
 So Baldpate Inn dropped back into the silence 
 to slumber and to wait. To wait for the magiu 
 of muslin, the lilt of waltzes, the tinkle of laugh- 
 
AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 353 
 
 ter, the rhythm of the rockers of the fleet on its 
 verandas, the formal tread of the admiral s boots 
 across its polished floors, the clink of dimes in the 
 pockets of its bell-boys. For a few brief hours 
 strange figures had replaced the unromantic 
 Quimby in its rooms, they had come to talk of 
 money and of love, to plot and scheme, and as 
 they came in the dark and moved most swiftly in 
 the dark, so in the dark they went away, and 
 Baldpate s startling winter drama took reluctantly 
 its final curtain. 
 
 Down the snowy road the five followed Quim- 
 by s lead ; Mr. Magee picturing in fancy one who 
 had fled along this path but a short time before ; 
 the others busy with many thoughts, not the 
 least of which was of Mrs. Quimby s breakfast. 
 At the door of the kitchen she met them, ma 
 ternal, concerned, eager to pamper and to serve, 
 just as Mr. Magee remembered her on that night 
 that now seemed so long ago. He smiled down 
 into her eyes, and he had an engaging smile, 
 even at four-thirty in the morning. 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Quimby," he cried, "here is the 
 prodigal straight from that old husk of an inn. 
 
354 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 And believe me, he s pretty anxious to sit down 
 to some food that woman, starter of all the 
 trouble since the world began, had a hand in." 
 
 "Come right in, all of you," chirruped Mrs. 
 Quimby, ushering them into a pleasant odor of 
 cookery. "Take off your things and sit down. 
 Breakfast s most ready. My land, I guess you 
 must be pretty nigh starved to death. Quimby 
 told me who was cooking for you, and I says to 
 Quimby : What/ I says, that no account woman- 
 hater messing round at a woman s job, like that/ 
 I says. Heaven pity the people at the inn/ I 
 says. Mr. Peters may be able to amuse them 
 with stories of how Cleopatra whiled away the 
 quiet Egyptian evenings/ I says, and he may be 
 able to throw a little new light on Helen of Troy, 
 who would object to having it thrown if she was 
 alive and the lady I think her, but/ I says, when 
 it comes to cooking, I guess he stands about 
 where you do, Quimby/ You see, Quimby s rep 
 ertory consists of coffee and soup, and sometimes 
 it s hard to tell which he means for which." 
 
 "So Mr. Peters has taken you in on the secret 
 
AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 355 
 
 of the book he is writing against your sex?" re 
 marked Billy Magee. 
 
 "Not exactly that," Mrs. Quimby answered, 
 brushing back a wisp of gray hair, "but he s dis 
 cussed it in my presence, ignoring me at the time. 
 You see, he comes down here and reads his latest 
 chapters to Quimby o nights, and I ve caught 
 quite a lot of it on my way between the cook- 
 stove and the sink." 
 
 "I ain t no judge of books," remarked Mrs. 
 Norton from a comfortable rocking-chair, "but 
 I ll bet that one s the limit." 
 
 "You re right, ma am," Mrs. Quimby told her. 
 "I ain t saying that some of it ain t real pretty 
 worded, but that s just to hide the falsehood 
 underneath. My land, the lies there is in that 
 book! You don t need to know much about 
 history to know that Jake Peters has made it 
 over to fit his argument, and that he ain t made 
 it over so well but what the old seams show here 
 and there, and the place where the braid was is 
 plain as daylight." 
 
 After ten more minutes of bustle, Mrs. Quim- 
 
356 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 by announced that they could sit down, and they 
 were not slow to accept the invitation. The 
 breakfast she served them moved Mr. Magee to 
 remark : 
 
 "I want to know where I stand as a judge of 
 character. On the first night I saw Mrs. Quimby, 
 without tasting a morsel of food cooked by her, 
 I said she was the best cook in the county." 
 
 The professor looked up from his griddle cakes. 
 
 "Why limit it to the county ?" he asked. "I 
 should say you were too parsimonious in your 
 judgment." 
 
 Mrs. Quimby, detecting in the old man s words 
 a compliment, flushed an even deeper red as she 
 bent above the stove. Under the benign influence 
 of the food and the woman s cheery personality, 
 the spirits of the crowd rose. Baldpate Inn was 
 in the past, its doors locked, its seven keys scat 
 tered through the dawn. Mrs. Quimby, as she 
 continued to press food upon them, spoke with 
 interest of the events that had come to pass at 
 the inn. 
 
 "It s so seldom anything really happens around 
 here," she said, "I just been hungering for news 
 
AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 357 
 
 of the strange goings-on up there. And I must 
 say Quimby ain t been none too newsy on the 
 subject. I threatened to come up and join in the 
 proceedings myself, especially when I heard about 
 the book-writing cook Providence had sent you." 
 
 "You would have found us on the porch with 
 outstretched arms," Mr. Magee assured her. 
 
 It was on Kendrick that Mrs. Quimby show 
 ered her attentions, and when the group rose to 
 seek the station, amid a consultation of watches 
 that recalled the commuter who rises at dawn 
 to play tag with a flippant train, Mr. Magee heard 
 her say to the railroad man in a heartfelt aside : 
 
 "I don t know as I can ever thank you enough, 
 Mr. Kendrick, for putting new hope into Quim 
 by. You ll never understand what it means, 
 when you ve given up, and your life seems all 
 done and wasted, to hear that there s a chance 
 left." 
 
 "Won t I?" replied Kendrick warmly. "Mrs. 
 Quimby, it will make me a very happy man to 
 give your husband his chance." 
 
 The first streaks of dawn were in the sky when 
 the hermits of Baldpate filed through the gate into 
 
 
 
358 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 the road, waving good-by to Quimby and his 
 wife, who stood in their dooryard for the fare- 
 r well. Down through sleepy little Asquewan 
 Tails they paraded, meeting here and there a 
 tired man with a lunch basket in his hand, who 
 stepped to one side and frankly stared while the 
 odd procession passed. 
 
 In the station Mr. Magee encountered an old 
 friend he of the mop of ginger-colored hair. 
 The man who had complained of the slowness 
 of the village gazed with wide eyes at Magee. 
 
 "I figured," he said, "that you d come this way 
 again. Well, I must say you ve put a little life 
 into this place. If I d known when I saw you 
 here the other night all the exciting things you 
 had up your sleeve, I d a-gone right up to Bald- 
 pate with you." 
 
 "But I hadn t anything up my sleeve," pro 
 tested Magee. 
 
 "Maybe," replied the agent, winking. "There s 
 some pretty giddy stories going round about the 
 carryings-on up at Baldpate. Shots fired, and 
 strange lights flashing dog-gone it, the only 
 thing that s happened here in years, and I wasn t 
 
AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 359 
 
 in on it. I certainly wish you d put me wise 
 to it" 
 
 "By the way/ inquired Magee, "did you notice 
 the passengers from here on the ten-thirty train 
 last night?" 
 
 "Ten-thirty," repeated the agent. "Say, what 
 sort of hours do you think I keep? A man has 
 to get some sleep, even if he does work for a 
 railroad. I wasn t here at ten-thirty last night. 
 Young Cal Hunt was on duty then. He s home 
 and in bed now." 
 
 No help there. Into the night the girl and the 
 two hundred thousand had fled together, and 
 Mr. Magee could pnly wait, and wonder, as to 
 the meaning of that flight. 
 
 Two drooping figures entered the station the 
 mayof and his faithful lieutenant, Max. The 
 dignity of the former had faded like a flower, 
 j nd the same withered simile might have been 
 applied with equal force to the accustomed jaunt- 
 iness of Lou. 
 
 "Good morning," said Mr. Magee in greeting. 
 "Taking an early train, too, eh? Have a pleas 
 ant night ?* 
 
360 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Young man," replied Cargan, "if you ve evet 
 put up at a hotel in a town the size of this, called 
 the Commercial House, you know that last ques 
 tion has just one answer manslaughter. I heard 
 a minister say once that all drummers are bound 
 for hell. If they are, it ll be a pleasant change 
 for em." 
 
 Mr. Max delved beneath his overcoat, and 
 brought forth the materials for a cigarette, which 
 he rolled between yellow fingers. 
 
 "If I was a drummer," he said dolefully, "one 
 breakfast was that what they called it, Jim? 
 one breakfast like we just passed through would 
 drive me into the awful habit of reading one of 
 these here books of Drummers Yarns." 
 
 "Sorry," smiled Magee. "We had an excellent 
 breakfast at Mrs. Quimby s. Really, you should 
 have stayed. By the way, where is Bland ?" 
 
 "Got shaky in the knees," said Cargan. 
 "Afraid of the reformers. Ain t had much ex 
 perience in these things, or he d know he might 
 just as well tremble at the approach of a blue 
 bottle fly. We put him pn a train going the other 
 direction from Reuton early this morning. He 
 
AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 361 
 
 thinks he d better seek his fortune elsewhere." 
 He leaned in heavy confidence toward Magee, 
 "Say, young fellow/* he whispered, "put me wise. 
 That little sleight of hand game you worked last 
 night had me dizzy. Where s the coin ? Where s 
 the girl? What s the game? Take the boodle 
 and welcome it ain t mine but put me next to 
 what s doing, so I ll know how my instalment of 
 this serial story ought to read. 50 
 
 "Mr. Cargan," replied Magee, "you know as 
 much about that girl as I do. She asked me to 
 get her the money, and I did." 
 
 "But what s your place in the game ?" 
 
 "A looker-on in Athens," returned Magee. 
 "Translated, a guy who had bumped into a cy 
 clone and was sitting tight waiting for it to blow 
 over. I I took a fancy to her, as you might put 
 it. She wanted the money. I got it for her." 
 
 "A pretty fairy story, my boy," the mayor 
 commented. 
 
 "Absolutely true," smiled Magee. 
 
 "What do you think of that for an explanation, 
 Lou," inquired Cargan, "she asked him for the 
 money and he gave it to her?" 
 
362 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Mr. Max leered. 
 
 "Say, a Broadway chorus would be pleased to 
 meet you, Magee," he commented. 
 
 "Don t tell any of your chorus friends about 
 me," replied Magee. "I might not always prove 
 so complacent. Every man has his moments of 
 falling for romance. Even you probably fell 
 once and what a fall was there." 
 
 "Can the romance stuff," pleaded Max. "This 
 chilly railway station wasn t meant for such 
 giddy language." 
 
 Wasn t it? Mr. Magee looked around at the 
 dingy walls, at the soiled time-cards, at the dis 
 reputable stove. No place for romance? It was 
 here he had seen her first, in the dusk, weeping 
 bitterly over the seemingly hopeless task in which 
 he was destined to serve her. No place for ro 
 mance and here had begun his life s romance. 
 The blue blithe sailor still stood at attention in 
 the "See the World" poster. Magee winked at 
 him. He knew about it all, he knew, he knew 
 he knew how alluring she had looked in the blue 
 corduroy suit, the bit of cambric pressed ago- 
 
AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 36* 
 
 nizingly to her face. Verily, even the sailor of 
 the posters saw the world and all its glories. 
 
 The agent leaned his face against the bars. 
 
 "Your train," he called, "is crossing the Main 
 Street trestle." 
 
 They filed out upon the platform, Mr. Magee 
 carrying Mrs. Norton s luggage amid her effusive 
 thanks. On the platform waited a stranger 
 equipped for travel. It was Mr. Max who made 
 the great discovery. 
 
 "By the Lord Harry," he cried, "it s the Her- 
 mit of Baldpate Mountain." 
 
 And so it was, his beard gone, his hair clumsily 
 hacked, his body garbed in the height of an old 
 and ludicrous fashion, his face set bravely toward 
 the cities once more. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I walked the floor, thinking 
 it all over. I knew it would happen, and it has. 
 The winters are hard, and the sight pf you it 
 was too much. The excitement, the talk it did 
 for me, did for my oath. So I m going back to 
 her back to Brooklyn for Christmas." 
 
 "A merry one to you," growled Cargan. 
 
564 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Maybe," replied Mr. Peters. "Very likely, 
 if she s feeling that way. I hope so, I ain t 
 giving up the hermit job altogether I ll come 
 back in the summers, to my post-card business. 
 There s money in it, if it s handled right. But 
 I ve spent my last winter on that lonesome hill." 
 
 "As author to author," asked Magee, "how 
 about your book?" 
 
 "There won t be any mention of that," the 
 hermit predicted, "in Brooklyn. I ve packed it 
 away. Maybe I can work on it summers, if she 
 doesn t come up here with me and insist on run 
 ning my hermit business for me. I hope she 
 won t, it would sort of put a crimp in it but if 
 she wants to I won t refuse. And maybe that 
 book ll never get done. Sometimes as I ve sat in 
 my shack at night and read, it s come to me that 
 all the greatest works since the world began have 
 been those that never got finished." 
 
 The Reuton train roared up to them through 
 the gray morning, and paused impatiently at 
 Upper Asquewan Falls. Aboard it clambered the 
 hermits, amateur and professional. Mr. Magee, 
 
AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT 
 
 from the platform, waved good-by to the agent 
 standing forlorn in the station door. He watched 
 the building until it was only a blur in the dawn. 
 A kindly feeling for it was in his heart. After 
 all, it had been in the waiting-room 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 THE ADMIRAL S GAME 
 
 THE village of Upper Asquewan Falls gave 
 a correct imitation of snow upon the des 
 ert s dusty face, and was no more. Bidding a re 
 luctant good-by to up-state romance, Mr. Magee 
 entered the solitary day coach which, with a 
 smoker, made up the local to Reuton. He spent 
 a few moments adjusting Mrs. Norton to her 
 new environment, and listened to her voluble ex 
 pressions of joy in the fact that her boarding- 
 house loomed ahead. Then he started for the 
 smoker. On his way he paused at the seat occu 
 pied by the ex-hermit of Baldpate, and fixed his 
 eyes on the pale blue necktie Mr. Peters had res 
 urrected for his return to the world of men. 
 
 "Pretty, ain t it?" remarked the hermit, see 
 ing whither Mr. Magee s gaze drifted. "She, 
 picked it. I didn t exactly like it when she first 
 366 
 
THE ADMIRAL S GAME 367 
 
 gave it to me, but I see my mistake now. I m 
 wearing it home as a sort of a white flag of truce. 
 Or almost white. Do you know, Mr. Magee, 
 I m somewhat nervous about what I ll say when I 
 come into her presence again about my inau 
 gural address, you might put it. What would be 
 your conversation on such an occasion? If you d 
 been away from a wife for five years, what would 
 you say when you drifted back?" 
 
 "That would depend," replied Magee, "on the 
 amount of time she allowed me for my speech. 
 
 "You ve hit the nail on the head," replied Mr. 
 Peters admiringly. "She s quick. She s like 
 lightning. She won t give me any time if she 
 can help it. That s why I d like to have a won 
 derful speech all ready something that would 
 hold her spellbound and tongue-tied until I fin 
 ished. It would take a literary classic to do that." 
 
 "What you want," laughed Magee, "is a speech 
 with the punch." 
 
 "Exactly," agreed Mr. Peters. "I guess I 
 won t go over to Brooklyn the minute I hit New 
 York. I guess I ll study the lights along the 
 big street, and brush elbows with the world a 
 
368 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 bit, before I reveal myself to her. Maybe if I 
 took in a few shows but don t think I won t 
 go to her. My mind is made up. And I guess 
 she ll be glad to see me, too. In her way. I 
 got to fix it with her, though, to come back to 
 my post-card trade in the summers. I wonder 
 what she ll say to that. Maybe she could stay at 
 the inn under an assumed name while I was 
 hermiting up at the shack." 
 
 He laughed softly. 
 
 "It d be funny, wouldn t it," he said. "Her sit 
 ting on the veranda watching me sell post-cards to 
 the ladies, and listening to the various stories of 
 how a lost love has blighted my life, and so forth. 
 Yes, it d be real funny only Ellen never had 
 much sense of humor. That was always her 
 great trouble. If you ever marry, Mr. Magee, 
 and I suppose you will, take my advice. Marry 
 a sense of humor first, and a woman incidental- 
 
 Mr. Magee promised 1 to bear this counsel in 
 mind, and went forward into the smoking-car. 
 Long rows of red plush seats, unoccupied save 
 for the mayor and Max, greeted his eye. He 
 
THE ADMIRAL S GAME 369 
 
 strolled to where they sat, about half-way down 
 the car, and lighted an after-breakfast cigar. 
 
 Max slouched in the unresponsive company of 
 a cigarette on one side of the car ; across the aisle 
 the mayor of Reuton leaned heavily above a card- 
 table placed between two seats. He was playing 
 solitaire. Mr. Magee wondered whether this was 
 merely a display of bravado against scheming re 
 formers, or whether Mr. Cargan found in it real 
 diversion. Curious, he slid into the place across 
 the table from the mayor. 
 
 "Napoleon," he remarked lightly, "whiled away 
 many a dull hour with cards, I believe." 
 
 Clumsily the mayor shuffled the cards. He 
 flung them down one by one on the polished sur 
 face of the table rudely, as though they were re 
 form votes he was counting. His thick lips were 
 tightly closed, his big hands hovered with unac 
 customed uncertainty over the pasteboards. 
 
 "Quit your kidding," he replied. "I don t ber 
 lieve cards was invented in Nap s day. Was they? 
 It s a shame a fellow can t have a little admiration 
 for a great leader like Nap without all you funny 
 boys jollying him about it That boy sure knew 
 
370 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 how to handle the voters. I ve read a lot about 
 him, and I like his style." 
 
 "You let history alone," snarled Mr. Max, 
 across the aisle, "or it ll repeat itself and anothei 
 guy I know ll go to the island." 
 
 "If you mean me," returned Cargan, "forget it. 
 There ain t no St Helena in my future." He 
 winked at Magee. "Lou s a little peevish this 
 morning," he said. "Had a bad night." 
 
 He busied himself with the cards. Mr. Ma- 
 gee looked pn, only half interested. Then, sud 
 denly, his interest grew. He watched the mayor 
 build, in two piles; he saw that the deck from 
 which he built was thick. A weird suspicion shot 
 across his mind. 
 
 "Tell me," he asked, "is this the admiral s game 
 of solitaire ?" 
 
 "Exactly what I was going to ask," said a voice. 
 Magee looked up. Kendrick had come in, and 
 stood now above the table. His tired eyes werfl 
 upon it, fascinated ; his lips twitched strangely. 
 
 "Yes," answered the mayor, "this is the ad 
 miral s game. You d hardly expect me to know 
 }t, would you ? I don t hang out at the swell clubs 
 
THE ADMIRAL S GAME 371 
 
 where the admiral does. They won t have me 
 there. But once I took the admiral on a public 
 service board with me one time when I wanted 
 a lot of dignity and no brains pretty bad and he 
 sort of come back by teaching me his game in the 
 long dull hours when we had nothing to do but 
 serve the public. The thing gets a hold on you, 
 somehow. Let s see now the spade now the 
 heart." 
 
 Kendrick leaned closer. His breath came with 
 a noisy quickness that brought the fact of his 
 breathing insistently to Magee s mind. 
 
 "I never knew how it was played," he said. 
 
 Something told Mr. Magee that he ought to 
 rise and drag Kendrick away from that table. 
 Why? He did not know. Still, it ought to be 
 done. But the look in Kendrick s eyes showed 
 clearly that the proverbial wild horses could not 
 do it then. 
 
 "Tell me how it s played," went on Kendrick, 
 trying to be calm. 
 
 "You must be getting old," replied the mayor. 
 "The admiral told me the young men at his club 
 never took any interest in his game. Solitaire/ 
 
372 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 he says to me, is an old man s trade/ It s a great 
 game, Mr. Kendrick." 
 
 "A great game," repeated Kendrick, "yes, it s 
 a great game." His tone was dull. "I want to 
 know how it s played," he said again. 
 
 "The six of clubs," reflected the mayor, throw 
 ing down another card. "Say, she s going fine 
 now. There ain t much to it. You use two decks, 
 exactly alike shuffle em together the eight of 
 hearts the jack of say, that s great you lay 
 the cards down here, just as they come like 
 this" 
 
 He paused. His huge hand held a giddy paste 
 board. A troubled look was on his face. Then 
 he smiled happily, and went on in triumph. 
 
 "And then you build, Mr. Kendrick," he said. 
 "The reds and the blacks. You build the blacks 
 on the left, and the reds on the right do you 
 get me ? Then say, what s the matter ?" 
 
 For Kendrick had swayed and almost fallen on 
 the admiral s game the game that had once sent 
 a man to hell. 
 
 "Go on," he said, bracing. "Nothing s the 
 matter. Go on. Build, damn it, build !" 
 
THE ADMIRAL S GAME 373 
 
 The mayor looked at him a moment in surprise, 
 then continued. 
 
 "Now the king," he muttered, "now the ace. 
 We re on the home stretch, going strong. There, 
 it s finished. It s come out right A great game, 
 I tell you." 
 
 He leaned back. Kendrick s fever-yellowed 
 face was like a bronze mask. His eyes were 
 fiercely on the table and the two decks of cards 
 that lay there. 
 
 "And when you ve finished," he pointed. 
 "When you ve finished" 
 
 Mr. Cargan picked up the deck on the left. 
 
 "All black," he said, "when the game comes out 
 right" 
 
 "And the other?" Kendrick persisted softly. 
 He pointed to the remaining deck. A terrible 
 smile of understanding drew his thin lips taut. 
 "And the other, Mr. Cargan?" 
 
 "Red," replied Cargan. "What else could it 
 be? All red." 
 
 He picked it up and shuffled through it to prove 
 his point. Kendrick turned like a drunken man 
 and staggered back down the aisle. Magee rose 
 
374 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 and hurried after him. At the door he turned, 
 and the look on his face caused Magee to shud 
 der. 
 
 "You heard?" he said helplessly. "My God! 
 It s funny, isn t it?" He laughed hysterically, 
 and drawing out his handkerchief, passed it across 
 his forehead. "A pleasant thing to think about 
 a pleasant thing to remember." 
 
 Professor Bolton pushed open the smoker door. 
 
 "I thought I d join you," he began. "Why, 
 David, what is it? What s the matter?" 
 
 "Nothing," replied Kendrick wildly. "There s 
 nothing the matter. Let me by please." He 
 crossed the swaying platform and disappeared 
 into the other car. 
 
 For a moment the professor and Magee gazed 
 after him, and then without a word moved down 
 the car to join Cargan and Max. Magee s mind 
 was dazed by the tragedy he had witnessed. "A 
 pleasant thing to think about " He did not 
 envy Kendrick his thoughts. 
 
 The mayor of Reuton had pushed aside the 
 cards and lighted a huge cigar. 
 
 "Well, Doc," he remarked jocosely, "how s 
 
THE ADMIRAL S GAME 375 
 
 trade ? Sold any new schemes for renovating the 
 world to the up-state rubes? I should think this 
 would be sort of an off-season for the reform 
 (business. Peace on earth, good will toward men 
 that ain t exactly a good advertisement for the 
 reformers, is it?" 
 
 "It s an excellent one/ replied Professor Bol- 
 ton. "The first essential of good will toward mea 
 is not to rob and debauch them." 
 
 "Oh, well, Doc, don t let s argue the matter," 
 replied Cargan easily. "I ain t in the humor for 
 it, anyhow. You got your beliefs, and I got my 
 beliefs. And that ain t no reason why we should 
 not smoke a couple of good cigars together. 
 Have one?" 
 
 "Thanks. I " reluctantly the old man took a 
 gay-banded Havana from the mayor s huge fist. 
 "You re very kind." 
 
 "I suppose it s sort of a blow to you," the 
 mayor went on, "that your plans up there on the 
 mountain went all to smash. It ought to teach 
 you a lesson, Doc. There ain t nothing to the 
 reform gag." 
 
 The train slowed down at a small yellow sta- 
 
376 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 tion. Mr. Magee peered out the window. "Hoop- 
 erstown," he read, "Reuton 10 miles." He saw 
 Mr. Max get up and leave the car. 
 
 "Not a thing to it, Doc," Cargan repeated. 
 "Your bunch has tried to get me before. You ve 
 shouted from the housetops that you had the 
 goods on me. What s always happened ?" 
 
 "Your own creatures have acquitted you," re 
 plied the professor, from a cloud pf Cargan 
 cigar smoke. 
 
 "Fair-minded men decfded that I hadn t done 
 wrong. I tell you, Doc, there s dishonest graft, 
 and I m against that always. And there s honest 
 graft the rightful perquisites of a high office. 
 That s the trouble with you church politicians. 
 You can t see the difference between the two." 
 
 "I m not a church politician," protested the 
 professor. "I m bitterly opposed to the lily-white 
 crowd who continually rant against the thing they 
 don t understand. I m practical, as practical as 
 you, and when " 
 
 Noiselessly Mr. Max slid up to the group, and 
 stood silent, his eyes wide, his yellow face piti- 
 
THE ADMIRAL S GAME 377 
 
 ful, the fear of a dog about to be whipped in his 
 every feature. 
 
 "Jim," he cried, "Jim ! You got to get me out 
 of this. You got to stand by me." 
 
 "Why, what s the matter, Lou?" asked the 
 mayor in surprise. 
 
 "Matter enough," whined Max. "Do you 
 know what s happened? Well, I ll tell" 
 
 Mr. Max was thrust aside, and replaced by a 
 train newsboy. Mr. Magee felt that he should 
 always remember that boy, his straw colored hair, 
 his freckled beaming face, his lips with their 
 fresh perpetual smile. 
 
 "All the morning papers, gents," proclaimed 
 the boy. "Get the Reuton Star. All about the 
 bribery." 
 
 He held up the paper. It s huge black head 
 lines looked dull and old and soggy. But the 
 story they told was new and live and startling. 
 
 "The Mayor Trapped," shrilled the head-lines. 
 "Attempt to Pass Big Bribe at Baldpate Inn 
 Foiled by Star Reporter. Hayden of the Subur 
 ban Commits Suicide to Avoid Disgrace." 
 
378 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Give me a paper, boy," said the mayor. "Yes 
 a Star." His voice was even, his face un 
 moved. He took the sheet and studied it, with 
 an easy smile. Clinging in fear to his side, Max 
 read, too. At length Mr. Cargan spoke, looking 
 up at Magee. 
 
 "So," he remarked. "So reporters, eh? You 
 and your lady friend ? Reporters for this lying 
 sheet the Star? 1 
 
 Mr. Magee smiled up from his own copy of 
 the paper. 
 
 "Not I," he answered. "But my lady friend 
 yes. It seems she was just that. A Star reporter 
 you can call her, and tell no lie, Mr. Mayor." 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE MAYOR IS WELCOMED HOME 
 
 IT was a good story the story which the 
 mayor, Max, the professor and Magee read 
 with varying emotions there in the smoking-car, 
 The girl had served her employers well, and Mr, 
 Magee, as he read, felt a thrill of pride in her, 
 Evidently the employers had felt that same thrill, 
 For in the captions under the pictures, in the 
 head-lines, and in a first-page editorial, none of 
 which the girl had written, the Star spoke ad 
 miringly of its woman reporter who had done a 
 man s work who had gone to Baldpate Inn and 
 had brought back a gigantic bribe fund "alone 
 and unaided". 
 
 "Indeed?" smiled Mr. Magee to himself. 
 
 In the editorial on that first page the trium 
 phant cry of the Star arose to shatter its fellows 
 in the heavens. At last, said the editor, the long 
 379 
 
3.8o SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 campaign which his paper alone of all the Reuton 
 papers had waged against a corrupt city adminis 
 tration was brought to a successful close. The 
 victory was won. How had this been accom 
 plished ? Into the Star office had come rumors, 
 a few days back, of the proposed payment of a 
 big bribe at the inn on Baldpate Mountain. The 
 paper had decided that one of its representatives 
 must be on the ground. It had debated long 
 whom to send. Miss Evelyn Rhodes, its well- 
 known special writer, had got the tip in question ; 
 she had pleaded to go to the inn. The editor, 
 considering her sex, had sternly refused. Then 
 gradually he had been brought to see the wisdom 
 of sending a girl rather than a man. The sex of 
 the former would put the guilty parties under sur 
 veillance off guard. So Miss Rhodes was des 
 patched to the inn. Here was her story. It con 
 victed Cargan beyond a doubt. The very money 
 offered as a bribe was now in the hands of the 
 Star editor, and would be turned over to Prose 
 cutor Drayton at his request. All this under the 
 disquieting title "Prison Stripes for the Mayor". 
 The girl s story told how, with one companion, 
 
WELCOMED HOME 381 
 
 she had gone to Upper Asquewan Falls. There 
 was no mention of the station waiting-room, nor 
 of the tears shed therein on a certain evening, Mr. 
 Magee noted. She had reached the inn on the 
 morning of the day when the combination was to 
 be phoned. Bland was already there, shortly 
 after came the mayor and Max. 
 
 "You got to get me out of this," Magee heard 
 Max pleading over Cargan s shoulder. 
 
 "Keep still!" replied the mayor roughly. He 
 was reading his copy of the Star with keen in 
 terest now. 
 
 "I ve done your dirty work for years," whined 
 Max. "Who puts on the rubber shoes and sneaks 
 up dark alleys hunting votes among the garbage, 
 while you do the Old Glory stunt on Main Street? 
 I do. You got to get me out of this. It may 
 mean jail. I couldn t stand that. I d die." 
 
 A horrible parody of a man s real fear was in 
 his face. The mayor shook himself as though 
 he would be rid forever of the coward hanging 
 on his arm. 
 
 "Hush up, can t you?" he said. "I ll see you 
 through." 
 
382 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "You got to," Lou Max wailed. 
 
 Miss Rhodes story went on to tell how Hay- 
 den refused to phone the combination; how the 
 mayor and Max dynamited the safe and secured 
 the precious package, only to lose it in another 
 moment to a still different contingent at the inn; 
 how Hay den had come, of his suicide when he 
 found that his actions were in danger of ex 
 posure "a bitter smile for Kendrick in that" re 
 flected Magee and how finally, through a strange 
 series of accidents, the money came into the hands 
 of the writer for the Star. These accidents were 
 not given in detail. 
 
 "An amusing feature of the whole affair," said 
 Miss Evelyn Rhodes, "was the presence at the 
 inn of Mr. William Hallow ell Magee, the New 
 York writer of light fiction, who had come there 
 to escape the distractions of a great city, and to 
 work in the solitude, and who immediately on his 
 arrival became involved in the surprising drama 
 of Baldpate." 
 
 "I m an amusing feature," reflected Magee. 
 
 "Mr. Magee," continued Miss Rhodes, "will 
 doubtless be one of the state s chief witnesses 
 
WELCOMED HOME 383 
 
 when the case against Cargan comes to trial, as 
 will also Professor Thaddeus Bolton, holder of 
 the Crandall Chair of Comparative Literature at 
 Reuton University, and Mr. David Kendrick, 
 formerly pf the Suburban, but who retired six 
 years ago to take up his residence abroad. The 
 latter,two went to the inn to represent Prosecutor 
 Drayton, and made every effort in their power 
 to secure the package of money from the reporter 
 for the Star, not knowing her connection with 
 the affair." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Magee?" asked Professor Bolton, 
 laying down the paper which he had been perus 
 ing at a distance of about an inch from his nose. 
 
 "Once again, Professor," laughed Magee, "re 
 porters have entered your life." 
 
 The old man sighed. 
 
 "It was very kind of her," he said, "not to 
 mention that I was the person who compared 
 blondes of the peroxide variety with suffragettes. 
 Others will not be so kind. The matter will be 
 resurrected and used against me at the trial, I m 
 sure. A plucky girl, Mr. Magee a very plucky 
 girl. How times do change. When I was young, 
 
384 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 girls of her age would scarcely have thought of 
 venturing forth into the highways on such peril 
 ous missions. I congratulate you. You showed 
 unusual perception. You deserve a great reward 
 the young lady s favor, let us say." 
 
 "You got to get me out of this," Max was still 
 telling the mayor. 
 
 "For God s sake," cried Cargan, "shut up and 
 let me think." He sat for a moment staring at 
 one place, his face still lacking all emotion, but 
 his eyes a trifle narrower than before. "You 
 haven t got me yet," he cried, standing up. "By 
 the eternal, I ll fight to the last ditch, and I ll 
 win. I ll show Drayton he can t play this game 
 on me. I ll show the Star. That dirty sheet 
 has hounded me for years. I ll put it out of 
 business. And I ll send the reformers howling 
 into the alleys, sick of the fuss they started them 
 selves." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Professor Bolton. "But only 
 after the fight of your life, Cargan." 
 
 "I m ready for it," cried Cargan. "I ain t 
 down and out yet. But to think a woman a 
 little bit of a girl I could have put in my pocket 
 
WELCOMED HOME 385 
 
 it s all a big joke. I ll beat them I ll show 
 them the game s far from played out I ll win 
 and if I don t" 
 
 He crumbled suddenly into his seat, his eyes 
 on that unpleasant line about "Prison Stripes for 
 the Mayor". For an instant it seemed as though 
 his fight was irrevocably lost, and he knew it. 
 Lines of age appeared to creep from out the fat 
 folds of his face, and stand mockingly there. He 
 looked a beaten man. 
 
 "If I don t," he stammered pitifully, "well, 
 they sent him to an island at the end. The re 
 formers got Napoleon at the last. I won t be 
 alone in that." 
 
 At this unexpected sight of weakness in his 
 hero, Mr. Max set up a renewed babble of fear 
 at his side. The train was in the Reuton sub 
 urbs now. At a neat little station it slowed down 
 to a stop, and a florid policeman entered the 
 smoking-car. Cargan looked up. 
 
 "Hello, Dan," he said. His voice was lifeless; 
 the old-time ring was gone. 
 
 The policeman removed his helmet and shifted 
 it nervously. 
 
386 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I thought I d tell you, Mr. Cargan," he said. 
 "I thought I d warn you. You d better get off 
 here. There s a big crowd in the station at Reu- 
 ton. They re waiting for you, sir; they ve heard 
 you re on this train. This lying newspaper, Mr. 
 Cargan, it s been telling tales I guess you know 
 about that. There s a big mob. You better get 
 off here, sir, and go down-town on a car." 
 
 If the mighty Cargan had looked limp and 
 beaten for a moment he looked that way no more. 
 He stood up, and his head seemed almost to 
 touch the roof of the car. Over that big patrol 
 man he towered; his eyes were cold and hard 
 again ; his lips curved in the smile of the master. 
 
 "And why," he bellowed, "should I get off 
 here? Tell me that, Dan." 
 
 "Well, sir," replied the embarrassed copper, 
 "they re ugly. There s no telling what they might 
 do. It s a bad mob this newspaper has stirred 
 em up." 
 
 "Ugly, are they?" sneered Cargan. "Ever 
 seen the bunch I would go put of my way for, 
 Dan?" 
 
WELCOMED HOME 387 
 
 "I meant it all right, sir/ said Dan. "As a 
 friend to a man who s been a friend to me. No, 
 I never saw you afraid of any bunch yet, but 
 this" 
 
 "This," replied Cargan, "is the same old bunch. 
 The same lily-livered crowd that I ve seen in the 
 streets since I laid the first paving stone under 
 em myself in 91. Afraid of them? Hell! I d 
 walk through an ant hill as scared as I would 
 through that mob. Thanks for telling me, Dan, 
 but Jim Cargan won t be in the mollycoddle class 
 for a century or two yet." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the patrolman admiringly. He 
 hurried out of the car, and the mayor turned to 
 find Lou Max pale and fearful by his side. 
 
 "What ails you now?" he asked. 
 
 "I m afraid," cried Max. "Did you hear what 
 he said? A mob. I saw a mob once. Never 
 again for me." He tried to smile, to pass it off 
 as a pleasant jest, but he had to wet his lips with 
 his tongue before he could go on. "Come on, 
 Jim. Get off here. Don t be a fool." 
 
 The train began to move. 
 
388 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Get off yourself, you coward," sneered Car- 
 gan. "Oh, I know you. It doesn t take much 
 to make your stomach shrink. Get off." 
 
 Max eagerly seized his hat and bag. 
 
 "I will, if you don t mind," he said. "See you 
 later at Charlie s." And in a flash of tawdry at 
 tire, he was gone. 
 
 The mayor of Reuton no longer sat limp in 
 his seat. That brief moment of seeming sur 
 render was put behind forever. He walked the 
 aisle of the car, fire in his eyes, battle in his 
 heart. 
 
 "So they re waiting for me, eh?" he said 
 aloud. "Waiting for Jim Cargan. Now ain t 
 it nice of them to come and meet their mayor?" 
 
 Mr. Magee and the professor went into the 
 day coach for their baggage. Mrs. Norton mo 
 tioned to the former. 
 
 "Well," she said, "you know now, I suppose. 
 And it didn t do you no harm to wait. I sure 
 am glad this to-do is all over, and that child is 
 safe. And I hope you ll remember what I said. 
 It ain t no work for a woman, no how, what with 
 the shooting and the late hours." 
 
WELCOMED HOME 389 
 
 "Your words/ said Mr. Magee, "are engraven 
 on my heart." He proceeded to gather her bag 
 gage with his own, and was thus engaged when 
 Kendrick came up. The shadow of his discovery 
 in the smoking-car an hour before still haunted 
 his sunken eyes, but his lips were half smiling 
 with the new joy of living that had come to him. 
 
 "Mr. Magee," he began, "I hardly need men 
 tion that the terrible thing which happened in 
 there is between you and me and the man 
 who s dead. No one must know. Least of all, 
 the girl who is to become my wife it would em 
 bitter her whole life as it has mine." 
 
 "Don t say that," Magee pleaded. "You will 
 forget in time, I m sure. And you may trust me 
 I had forgotten already." And indeed he had, 
 on the instant when his eyes fell upon the Reuton 
 Star. 
 
 Miss Thornhill approached, her dark smiling 
 eyes on Magee. Kendrick looked at her proudly, 
 and spoke suddenly, determinedly : 
 
 "You re right, I will forget. She shall help 
 me." 
 
 "Mr. Magee," said the girl, "I m so pleased 
 
390 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 at the splendid end to your impulsive philan 
 thropy. I just knew the adventure couldn t have 
 anything but a happy ending it was so full of 
 youth and faith and and charity or its synonym. 
 This mustn t be good-by. You must come and 
 see me come and see us all." 
 
 "I shall be happy to," answered Magee sin 
 cerely. "It will always be a matter of regret to 
 me that I was not able to serve you also on 
 Baldpate Mountain. But out of it you come with 
 something more precious than fine gold, and that 
 shall be my consolation." 
 
 "Let it be," smiled Myra Thornhill, "as it is 
 surely mine. Good-by." 
 
 "And good luck," whispered Magee, as he took 
 Kendrick s hand. 
 
 Over his shoulder, as he passed to the platform, 
 he saw them look into each other s eyes, and he 
 felt that the memory of the admiral s game would 
 in time cease to haunt David Kendrick. 
 
 A shadow had fallen upon the train the 
 shadow of the huge Reuton station. In the half- 
 light on the platform Mr. Magee encountered 
 the mayor of Reuton. Above the lessening roar 
 
WELCOMED HOME 391 
 
 of the train there sounded ahead of them the 
 voices of men in turmoil and riot. Mr. Cargan 
 turned upon Magee a face as placid and dispas 
 sionate as that of one who enters an apple or 
 chard in May. 
 
 "The boys," he smiled grimly, "welcoming me 
 home." 
 
 Then the train came to a stop, and Mr. Magee 
 looked down into a great array of faces, and 
 heard for the first time the low unceasing rumble 
 of an angry mob. Afterward he marveled at that 
 constant guttural roar, how it went on and on, 
 humming like a tune, never stopping, disconnected 
 quite from the occasional shrill or heavy voices 
 that rang out in distinguishable words. The 
 mayor looked coolly down into those upturned 
 faces, he listened a moment to the rumble pf a 
 thousand throats, then he took off his derby with 
 satiric politeness. 
 
 "Glad to see one and all !" he cried. 
 
 And now above the mutterings angry words 
 could be heard, "That s him," "That s two- 
 hundred-thousand-dollar Cargan," "How s the 
 weather on Baldpate?" and other sarcastic flings. 
 
392 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 Then a fashion of derisive cat-calls came and 
 went. After which, here and there, voices spoke 
 of ropes, of tar and feathers. And still the 
 mayor smiled as one for whom the orchard gate 
 swung open in May. 
 
 A squad of policemen, who had entered the car 
 from the rear/ forced their way put on to the 
 platform. 
 
 "Want us to see you through the crowd, Mr. 
 Cargan ?" the lieutenant asked. 
 
 New hoots and cries ascended to the station 
 rafters. "Who pays the police?" "We do." 
 "Who owns em?" "Cargan." Thus question 
 and answer were bandied back and forth. Again 
 a voice demanded in strident tones the ignomin 
 ious tar and feathers. 
 
 Jim Cargan had not risen from the slums to 
 be master of his town without a keen sense of the 
 theatric. He ordered the police back into the 
 car. "And stay there," he demanded. The lieu 
 tenant demurred. One look from the mayor sent 
 him scurrying. Mr. Cargan took from his pocket 
 a big cigar, and calmly lighted it. 
 
 "Some of them guys out there," he remarked 
 
WELCOMED HOME 393 
 
 to Magee, "belong to the Sunday-school crowd. 
 Pretty actions for them pillars of the church 
 howling like beasts." 
 
 And still, like that of beasts, the mutter of the 
 mob went on, now in an undertone, now louder, 
 and still that voice that first had plead for tar 
 and feathers plead still for feathers and tar. 
 And here a group preferred the rope. 
 
 And toward them, with the bland smile of a 
 child on his great face, his cigar tilted at one 
 angle, his derby at another, the mayor of Reuton 
 walked unflinchingly. 
 
 The roar became mad, defiant. But Cargan 
 stepped forward boldly. Now he reached the 
 leaders of the mob. He pushed his way in among 
 them, smiling but determined. They closed in 
 on him. A little man got firmly in his path. He 
 took the little man by the shoulders and stood 
 him aside with some friendly word. And now 
 he was past ten rows or more of them on his way 
 through, and the crowd began to scurry away. 
 They scampered like ants, clawing at one an 
 other s backs to make a path. 
 
 And so finally, between two rows of them, the 
 
394 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 mayor of Reuton went his way triumphantly. 
 Somewhere, on the edge of the crowd, an ad 
 miring voice spoke. "Hello, Jim !" The mayor 
 waved his hand. The rumble of their voices 
 ceased at last. Jim Cargan was still master of 
 the city. 
 
 "Say what you will," remarked Mr. Magee 
 to the professor as they stood together on the 
 platform of the car, "there goes a man." 
 
 He did not wait to hear the professor s answer. 
 For he saw the girl of the Upper Asquewan sta 
 tion, standing on a baggage truck far to the left 
 of the mob, wave to him over their heads. 
 Eagerly he fought his way to her side. It was 
 a hard fight, the crowd would not part for him 
 as it had parted for the man who owned the city, 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE USUAL THING 
 
 "TTELLO, Mr. Hold-up Man!" The girl 
 
 1 1 seized Mr. Magee s proffered hand and 
 leaped down from the truck to his side. 
 
 "Bless the gods of the mountain," said Ma- 
 gee; "they have given me back my accomplice, 
 safe and sound." 
 
 "They were black lonesome gods," she re 
 plied, "and they kept whispering fearful things in 
 my ear I couldn t understand. I m glad they 
 didn t keep me." 
 
 "So am I." The crowd surged about them; 
 many in it smiled and spoke admiringly to the 
 girl. "It s great to be acquainted with the hero 
 ine of the hour," Mr. Magee continued. "I con 
 gratulate you. You have overthrown an empire 
 of graft, it seems." 
 
 "Alone and unaided," she quoted, smiling 
 mockingly up into his face. 
 395 
 
396 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Absolutely alone and entirely unaided," said 
 Billy Magee. "I ll swear to that in court." 
 
 Mrs. Norton panted up to them. 
 
 "Hello, dearie!" she cried. "Thank heaven 
 you re safe. Have you been up to the house? 
 How s Sadie getting along? I just know every 
 thing is topsyturvy." 
 
 "Not at all," replied Miss Rhodes. "Breakfast 
 passed .off like clockwork at seven, and even Mr. 
 Golden had no complaints to offer. Dear, I 
 must thank you for all you ve done for me. It 
 was splendid " 
 
 "Not now," objected Mrs. Norton. "I got to 
 get up to the house now. What with Christmas 
 only two days away, and a lot of shopping to be 
 done, I can t linger in this drafty station for 
 thanks. I want you to bring Mr. Magee right 
 up to the house for lunch. I ll have a meal ready 
 that ll show him what suffering must have been 
 going on inside me while I sat still watching that 
 hermit man burlesquing the cook business." 
 
 "Delighted," said Magee. "I ll find you a cab." 
 He led the way to a row of such vehicles, Mrs. 
 Norton and the girl following. 
 
THE USUAL THING 397 
 
 "Seems like you re always putting me in a cab," 
 remarked the older woman as she climbed inside. 
 "I don t know what Mary and me would have 
 done if it hadn t been for you. You re a mighty 
 handy person to have around, Mr. Magee. Ain t 
 he, dearie?" She winked openly at Magee. 
 
 "And a delightful one," agreed the girl, in a 
 matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 Mrs. Norton was driven away up the snowy 
 street. As Mr. Magee and the girl turned, they 
 beheld the Hermit of Baldpate staring with un 
 disguised exultation at the tall buildings of Reu- 
 ton. 
 
 "Why, it s Mr. Peters!" the girl cried. 
 
 "Yes," replied Magee. "His prediction has 
 come true. We and our excitement proved too 
 much for him. He s going back to Brooklyn and 
 to her." 
 
 "I m so glad," she cried. She stretched out 
 her hand to the hermit. He took it, somewhat 
 embarrassed. 
 
 "Glad to see you," he said. "You certainly 
 appear to have stirred things up, miss. But 
 women are good at that. I ve always said " 
 
398 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "Mr. Magee tells me you re going back, after 
 all?" she broke in. 
 
 "Yes," returned Peters. "I knew it. I told 
 you so. It was all right in the summer, when 
 the bands played, and the warm wind was her- 
 miting on the mountain, too. But in the fall, it s 
 always been hard, and I ve heard the white lights 
 calling, calling why, I ve even heard her heard 
 Ellen. This fall you came, and there was some 
 thing doing on Baldpate and I knew that when 
 you went, I d just naturally have to go, too. So 
 I m going." 
 
 "Splendid," commented the girl. 
 
 "It ll be somewhat delicate," continued the her 
 mit, "bursting in on Ellen after all these years. 
 As I told Mr. Magee, I wish I had an inaugural 
 address, or something like that." 
 
 "I have it," responded Evelyn Rhodes. "I ll 
 write a story about you for to-morrow morning s 
 paper. All about how the Christmas spirit has 
 overcome the Hermit of Baldpate, and how he s 
 going back to his wife, with his heart filled with 
 love for her it is filled, isn t it ?" 
 
THE USUAL THING 399 
 
 "Well, yes," agreed Mr. Peters. "I reckon 
 you might call it that." 
 
 "And then you can send her a copy of the 
 paper, and follow it up in person." 
 
 "A good idea," commented Billy Magee. 
 
 "At first glance, yes," studied Peters. "But, 
 on the other hand, it would be the death knell 
 of my post-card business, and I m calculating to 
 go back to Baldpate next summer and take it 
 up again. No, I m afraid I can t let it be gen 
 erally known that I ve quit living in a shack on 
 the mountain for love of somebody or other." 
 
 "Once more," smiled Magee, "big business 
 muzzles the press." 
 
 "Not that I ain t obliged to you for the offer," 
 added the hermit. 
 
 "Of course," said the girl, "I understand. And 
 I wish you the best of luck along with a merry 
 Christmas." 
 
 "The same to you," replied the hermit heartily. 
 
 "Miss er Miss Rhodes and I will see you 
 again," predicted Mr. Magee, "next summer at 
 Baldpate Inn." 
 
400 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 The hermit looked at the girl, who turned her 
 face away. 
 
 "I hope it ll turn out that way, I m sure," he 
 said. "I ll let you have a reduction on all post 
 cards, just for old times sake. Now I must find 
 out about the New York trains." 
 
 He melted into th^ crowd, an odd figure still, 
 his garb in a fashion long forgotten, his clumsily 
 hacked hair brushing the collar of his ancient 
 coat. Magee and the girl found the check room, 
 and after he had been relieved of the burden of 
 his baggage, set out up the main street of Reuton. 
 It was a typical up-state town, deep in the throes 
 of the holiday season. The windows of the stores 
 were green with holly ; the faces of the passers-by 
 reflected the excitements of Christmas and of the 
 upheaval in civic politics which were upon them 
 almost together. 
 
 "Tell me," said the girl, "are you glad at the 
 way it has turned out? Are you glad I was no 
 lady Captain Kidd?" 
 
 "It has all turned outor is about to turn out 
 beautifully," Mr. Magee answered. "You may 
 remember that on the veranda of Baldpate Inn I 
 
THE USUAL THING 401 
 
 spoke of one summer hotel flirtation that: was 
 going to prove more than that. Let me " 
 
 Her laugh interrupted. 
 
 "You don t even know my name." 
 
 "What s the matter with Evelyn Rhodes?" 
 suggested Magee. 
 
 "Nothing. It s a perfectly good name. But it 
 isn t mine. I just write under it." 
 
 "I prefer Mary, anyhow," smiled Billy Magee. 
 "She called you that. It s Mary." 
 
 "Mary what?" 
 
 "You have no idea," said he, "how immaterial 
 that is." 
 
 They came upon a throng blocking the sidewalk 
 in front pf a tall building of stone. The eyes of 
 the throng were on bulletins ; it muttered much as 
 they had muttered who gathered in the station. 
 
 The office of the Star explained the girl. 
 "The crowd is looking for new excitement. Do 
 you know, for two whole hours this morning we 
 had on exhibition in the window a certain pack 
 age a package of money!" 
 
 "I think," smiled Magee, "I ve seen it some 
 where." 
 
402 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 "I think you have. Drayton came and took it 
 from us as soon as he heard. But it was the very 
 best proof we could have offered the people. They 
 like to see for themselves. It s a passion with 
 them. We ve done for Cargan forever." 
 
 "Cargan says he will fight." 
 
 "Of course he will," she replied. "But this will 
 prove Napoleon s Waterloo. Whether or not he 
 is sent to prison and perhaps he can escape that, 
 he s very clever his power in Reuton is broken. 
 He can t possibly win at the next election it 
 comes very soon. I m so glad. For years our 
 editor has been fighting corruption, in the face of 
 terrible odds and temptations. I m so glad it s 
 yver now and the Star has won." 
 
 "Through you," said Magee softly. 
 
 "With some one to help," she smiled. "I 
 must go up-stairs now and find out what new task 
 is set for me." 
 
 Mr. Magee postponed the protest on the tip of 
 his tongue, and, climbing the gloomy stairs that 
 newspapers always affect, they came into the city 
 room of the Star. Though the paper had been 
 long on the street, the excitement of the greatest 
 
THE USUAL THING 403 
 
 coup of years still lingered in the place. Magee 
 saw the deferential smiles that greeted the girl, 
 and watched her as she made her way to the city 
 editor s desk. In a moment she was back at his 
 side. 
 
 "I ve got my assignment," she smiled ruefully. 
 They descended to the street. "It s wonderful," 
 she went on, "how curt a city editor can be with 
 any one who pulls off a good story. The job I ve 
 got now reminds me of the experience of an old 
 New York reporter who used to work on the 
 Star. 9 
 
 With difficulty they threaded their way through 
 the crowd, and moved along beside the green- 
 decked windows. 
 
 "He was the first man sent out by his paper on 
 Park Row on the Spanish War assignment," she 
 went on, "and he behaved rather brilliantly, I be 
 lieve. Well, he came back after the fight was 
 over, all puffed up and important, and they told 
 him the city editor wanted him. They re going 
 to send me to the Philippines, he told me he 
 thought as he went into the presence. When the 
 city editor ordered him to rush down to a two- 
 
404 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 alarm fire in Houston Street he nearly collapsed. 
 I know how he felt. I feel that way now." 
 
 "What was it a one-alarm fire?" asked Ma- 
 gee. 
 
 "No," she replied, "a sweet little story about 
 the Christmas toys. I ve done it to death every 
 Christmas for three years. Oh, well, I can do 
 it again. But it ll have to wait until after Mrs. 
 Norton s lunch." 
 
 She led him into a street where every house 
 was like its neighbor, even to the "Rooms" sign 
 in the windows, and up the steps of one she could 
 have recognized only by counting from the cor- 
 ner. They entered the murky and stereotyped 
 atmosphere pf a boarding-house hallway, with 
 its inevitable hat-rack and the uncollected letters 
 of the homeless on a table. Mrs. Norton came 
 breezily forth to meet them. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Magee," she said, "I certainly am 
 glad you ve came. I m busy on that lunch now. 
 Dearie, show him into the parlor to wait." 
 
 Mr. Magee was shown in. That rooming- 
 house parlor seemed to moan dismally as it re 
 ceived him. He strolled about and gazed at the 
 
THE USUAL; THING 405 
 
 objects of art which had at various times accrued 
 to Mrs. Norton s personality: a steel engraving 
 called Too Late, which depicted an angry father 
 arriving at a church door to find his eloping 
 daughter in the arms of stalwart youth, with 
 the clergy looking on approvingly; another of 
 Mr. John Drew assuming a commanding posture 
 as Petruchio in The Taming of the Shrew; some 
 ennuied flabby angels riding on the clouds; a 
 child of unhealthy pink clasping lovingly an in 
 flammable dog; on the mantel a miniature ship, 
 under glass, and some lady statuettes whose toil 
 ettes slipped down down. 
 
 And, on an easel, the sad portrait of a gentle 
 man, undoubtedly the late lamented Norton. His 
 uninteresting nose appeared to turn up at the con 
 stant odor of cookery in which it dwelt; his hair 
 was plastered down over his forehead in a 
 gorgeous abandoned curve such as some of the 
 least sophisticated pf Mr. John T. McCutcheon s 
 gentlemen affect. 
 
 Mr. Magee stared round the room and smiled. 
 Was the romance of reality never to resemble the 
 romance of his dreams? Where were the dim 
 
406 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 lights, where the distant waltz, where the magic 
 of moonlight amid which he was some day to 
 , have told a beautiful girl of his love ? Hardly in 
 Mrs. Norton s parlor. 
 
 She came and stood in the doorway. Hatless, 
 coatless, smiling, she flooded the place with her 
 beauty. Mr. Magee looked at the flabby angels 
 on the wall, expecting them to hide their faces in 
 shame. But no, they still rode brazenly their un 
 stable clouds. 
 
 "Come in," he cried. "Don t leave me alone 
 here again, please. And tell me is this the gen 
 tleman who took the contract for making Mrs, 
 Norton happy?" 
 
 "I I can t come in," she said, blushing. She 
 seemed to wish to avoid him. "Yes, that is Mr. 
 Norton." She came nearer the easel, and smiled 
 at the late lamented s tonsorial crown. "I must 
 leave you just a moment " 
 
 Billy Magee s heart beat wildly. His breath 
 came fast. He seized her by the hand. 
 
 "You re never going to leave me again," he 
 cried. "Don t you know that? I thought you 
 knew. You re mine. I Ipve you. I love you. 
 
THE USUAL THING 407 
 
 It s all I can say, my dearest. Look at me look 
 at me, please." 
 
 "It has happened so quickly," she murmured. 
 "Things can t be true when they happen so 
 quickly." 
 
 "A woman s logic," said Mr. Magee. "It has 
 happened. My beautiful girl. Look at me." 
 
 And then she looked. Trembling, flushed, 
 half frightened, half exultant, she lifted her eyes 
 to his. 
 
 "My little girl !" he cried down at her. 
 
 A moment longer she held off, and then limply 
 she surrendered. And Billy Magee held her close 
 in his arms. 
 
 "Take care of me," she whispered. "I I love 
 you so." Her arm went timidly about his shoul 
 ders. "Do you want to know my name? It s 
 Mary" 
 
 Mary what? The answer was seemingly of no 
 importance, for Mr. Magee s lips were on hers, 
 crushing the word at its birth. 
 
 So they stood, amid Mrs. Norton s gloomy ob 
 jects of art. And presently she asked : 
 
 "How about the book, dear?" 
 
408 SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE 
 
 But Mr. Magee had forgot. 
 
 "What book?" he asked. 
 
 "The novel you went to Baldpate to write. 
 Don t you remember, dearest no melodrama, no 
 wild chase, no love?" 
 
 "Why " Mr. Magee paused for a moment in 
 the joy of his discovery. Then he came back to 
 the greater joy in his arms. 
 
 "Why, darling," he explained gently, "this 
 is it" 
 
 THE END 
 
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