Broken to the Plow Part 17

Fred smiled wanly. "I don't suppose you saw my wife, by any chance,"

he ventured.

"No... Fact is, she's in bed... Hilmer said the news completely bowled her over... That's another reason you've got to buck up--for _her_ sake, you know!"

It ended in Watson putting up the bail money and their departing in a yellow taxicab for an obscure hotel in Ellis Street.

"This is the best arrangement, under the circ.u.mstances," Watson explained. "You'll want to be quiet and lie low."

Fred a.s.sented indifferently. He was very tired and all he longed for was a chance to sleep.

In less than fifteen minutes after his release Fred Starratt found himself alone in the narrow impersonal room where Hilmer's emissary had installed him. He did not wait to undress--he threw himself upon the bed and slept until midnight.

He awoke startled and unrefreshed. A newsboy just under his window was calling the morning papers with monotonous stridency. Fred jumped to his feet and peered out. People drifted by on the homeward stretch in little pattering groups--actors, chorus girls, waiters, and melancholy bartenders. The usual night wind had died ... it had grown warmer. He turned toward his bed again. The walls of the room seemed suddenly to contract. He had a desire to get out into the open... He freshened up and felt better.

He did not wait for the elevator, but walked down the dim stairway to the narrow hotel lobby, flooded by a white, searching light. For a moment he stood in curious confusion at the foot of the stairs that had so suddenly spewed him from half-light to glare, his eyes blinking aimlessly. At that moment he saw a familiar figure rising from one of the morris chairs near the plate-gla.s.s window. He stared--it was the private detective who had hounded him all day Sat.u.r.day. Slowly he retraced his steps and found his way back to his room again... No doubt Brauer, fearful lest his victim would escape before he arranged the proper warrants for arrest, had been responsible for this man's presence in the first instance, but who was hiring him now?...

Hilmer?... Well, why not? Surely a man who risked bail money was justified in seeing that the object of his charity kept faith... Fred Starratt sat down and laughed unpleasantly. What a contempt everybody must have for him! What a contempt he had for himself! He threw himself sprawling his full length upon the rumpled bed. But this time it was not to sleep. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and puffed cigarette after cigarette until morning flooded the room... At eight o'clock he phoned down to have his breakfast sent up.

Toward noon Watson came in. "I saw Brauer yesterday and again this morning... What did you do to make him so sore?"

Fred shrugged. "I guess I took a superior air... A man who plays up his honesty is always nasty... I meant well--most fools do!"

Watson stared uncomprehendingly. "The best thing I can get this man Brauer to agree to is a compromise... He's eager for his pound of flesh."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants to punish you ... even the score some way... After I saw him yesterday I went out and talked to Hilmer... We outlined a plan that Brauer is willing to accept. Hilmer has a pull, you know ... and if the scheme goes through there'll be no trial, no notoriety, nothing disagreeable... We'll make it plain to the authorities that you gave out this check when you were drunk. Habitual intemperance ... that's to be our plea... It means a few months for you at the state's Home for Inebriates ... a bit of a rest, really... I'd say you were extremely lucky."

Fred was beyond so futile an emotion as anger. Somehow he was not even surprised, but he had energy enough left for sarcasm. He looked squarely at Watson as he said:

"Why not tell the truth? If any judge is willing to convict me on my intentions I'll go to jail gladly. It seems to me that it ought to be easy enough to prove that I gave that check to Brauer with every prospect in the world that I could cover it. He tricked me, really."

"Yes, but how can you prove it?"

"Why, there's my wife. She heard every bit of the--"

"My dear man, you're not going to drag _her_ into this mess, I hope.

What we're trying to do is to hush this thing up, so that in due time you can come back and take your place in society again without scandal."

"How are you going to stop Brauer's tongue?"

"Oh, we'll see that he keeps his counsel... Hilmer will throw him a sop... He's going in with this man Kendrick, you know."

Fred rose and went over to the washbasin and drew himself a drink.

Finally he spoke. "It's a d.a.m.ned lie--the whole thing. That is enough to queer it with me. I'm not a common drunkard, and you know it."

"You were drunk when they arrested you."

"Well ... yes."

"And that's what gives us such a good chance... Now look here, Starratt, you can take a tip from me or leave it, just as you see fit.

A trial for a charge such as you're up against is a d.a.m.ned nasty business. You get publicity that you never live down. And just now there's a big sentiment developing against letting people off easily once the thing is made public. The judges are soaking people hard...

You might get off, and then again you _might not_. Would you like to put your wife in the position of having a convict for a husband? ...

Think it over."

Fred sat down. He was not beaten yet. After all, what did Helen think about this arrangement? Had they spoken to her? Some of her methods in the past had not been to his taste, but they were the best means to an end that she knew. And she always had been loyal. Ah yes, in a scratch women did rise to the occasion! For an instant he remembered the parting comment of his cell companion of Sat.u.r.day night:

"If you've got a dame stuck on you there's always a chance."

He turned to Watson with a smile of triumph.

"I'll leave the thing to Mrs. Starratt," he said, confidently. "I think I can depend upon her to stand by me, whatever happens..."

Watson reached into his inner coat pocket.

"I've a note from her here," he said, handing Starratt a square envelope.

Fred broke the seal and unfolded the contents deliberately. He read very slowly... When he had finished he read it through again. He sat for some moments on the edge of the bed, tapping his lips with a tentative finger. Finally he rose.

"Well, Mr. Watson," he said, bitterly, "I said I'd stand by Mrs.

Starratt's decision. And I'm a man of my word."

Watson rose also. "You won't regret this, I'm sure," he ventured, heartily. "Meanwhile I'll get busy pulling wires at once. It won't do to let this thing get cold. I'll go right out and see Hilmer now...

Any message you'd like to give your wife?"

Fred looked at the man before him searchingly. "No ... none!"

Watson bowed himself out... Fred Starratt put both hands to his temples.

CHAPTER X

The days that followed pa.s.sed in a blur. Fred Starratt went through the motions of living, but they were only motions. Between the intervals of legal adjustments, court examinations, and formal red tape he would lie upon his narrow bed at the hotel reading his wife's message--that sharp-edged message which had shorn him of his strength--as if to dull further his blunted sensibilities. In all this time he saw only Watson. He did not ask for Hilmer or Helen. But one day the attorney said to him:

"Your wife is still ill, otherwise--" "Yes, yes ... of course," Fred a.s.sented, dismissing the subject with an impatient shrug.

Finally, on a certain afternoon at about two o'clock, Watson came in quite unexpectedly.

"I think by to-night everything will be settled. ... What can I do for you? ... Perhaps you would like to go to your apartment and get some things together... Or see a friend... Just say the word." Fred roused himself. A fleeting rebellion flickered and died. He wanted nothing ... least of all to so much as see his former dwelling place. He made only one request.

"If you're pa.s.sing that dance hall where they arrested me--you know, near Jackson Street--drop in and ask for a girl called Ginger. I'd like to see her."