The Dominant Dollar Part 36

"Thank you."

The next stop was at the office, dark with a Sabbath darkness; but not for long. Within the s.p.a.ce of a few minutes after he came, every light switched on, the windows open wide, his coat dangling from a chair in the corner, Roberts was at work upon a small mountain of correspondence collected upon his desk, a mountain of which each unit was marked "personal" or "private." At almost the same time a waiter from a near-by _cafe_ entered with a tray of sandwiches and coffee. Thereafter he ate as he worked.

An hour pa.s.sed. The sandwiches disappeared entirely and the mountain grew slightly smaller. A second hour dragged by and the mountain suffered a second decline. For the first time Roberts halted and glanced at the clock. A moment later he took down the receiver from the 'phone on his desk and gave a number.

"That you, Randall? Has Armstrong been at your place to-night? You haven't seen him at all to-day, then. No; nothing. Just wanted to know, that was all. Good-night."

Another half-hour pa.s.sed; then, without pausing in his work, Roberts pulled the buzzer lever for a messenger. When the latter appeared he scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper, addressed an envelope, and gave it to the boy with half a dollar.

"There's a mate to that coin waiting here for you if you can get me an answer within half an hour," he said. "You know the party, don't you?"

"Sure. Yes, sir."

"Follow up the trail, then. You've lost one minute of your thirty already."

For the third time he returned to his work, halting only when the messenger in blue returned.

"Can't deliver it, sir," explained the latter curtly. "I've been all over town and no one has seen him. Thank you, sir. Good-night."

For several minutes this time Darley Roberts sat in his desk chair thinking, quite motionless. The clock on the wall recorded midnight and he compared the time with his watch to make certain of its accuracy. Once more he took down the telephone receiver.

"This you, Elice?" he asked after a moment. "Can I be of service? Never mind, no need to explain. I understand. I'll be right up."

In spite of the city speed limit the big red car made those twelve blocks intervening in sixty-four seconds flat.

"How did you ever know?"--infinite wonder, infinite relief as well in the tone. "Tell me that, please."

"I didn't know, of course. I merely guessed. Has it been long?"

Involuntarily the girl shuddered, then held herself steady with an effort.

"Yes, since dinner. He came while we were eating; and father--"

"I understand," preventingly. "Don't worry. It's all over with now. Did any one else see--any of the neighbors, I mean?"

"I think not. It was after dark and--Oh, it's simply horrible!

horrible!"

"Yes," gently. "I appreciate that. Let's not speak about it. Your two roomers are both in?"

The girl nodded.

"They didn't suspect anything wrong either?"

"No, the hammock was dark--and father watched. They went right up to their rooms without stopping."

Roberts nodded, and looked out of the window. The light in the residence district of the town was on a midnight schedule and was now cut off. He turned back. A moment he stood so, silent, facing the girl there in the dimly lighted hall. Under a sudden instinct he reached out and laid a hand compellingly on each of her shoulders, holding her captive.

"You don't misunderstand my intruding here to-night, do you, Elice?" he asked directly.

"Misunderstand!" The girl looked at him steadily, the dark circles about her eyes eloquent. "Never. How can you fancy such a thing! Never."

"And you're willing to trust me to bring everything out right? It will be all right, take my word for that."

Still the girl did not stir, but gazed at him. "Yes, I trust you implicitly, always," she said.

A moment longer the hands held their place before they dropped.

"All right, then," he said perfunctorily, "go to bed. I'll take care of Steve--to-night and in the future. Don't worry. Good-night."

"Wait," a hand was upon his arm, a compelling hand. "You mean--"

Roberts smiled deliberately, his slow, impersonal smile.

"Exactly what I said. This will be a lesson Steve should never forget. I can't imagine his repeating it--ever. Besides, I'll help him not to. I have a plan."

"You mean to help him as--as you helped Harry Randall and Margery?"

A moment the man was silent, though he smiled.

"No, not exactly. I'll merely a.s.sist him to help himself. I think perhaps it's only my duty anyway, that maybe I'm more or less responsible. By the way, don't be surprised if he disappears for a bit. He may possibly decide to go out of town. That's all, for now."

The girl drew a long breath.

"You responsible!" she echoed. "If you're responsible, how, then, about--myself?"

"Elice!" Roberts cut her off peremptorily. "I refuse to listen. Go to bed at once, I insist. I'll come to-morrow and talk if you wish. Just now it's all too near. Good-night again."

An instant later, on the darkened porch without, he had the arm of the doddering old man in the grip of a vise.

"Leave everything here to me," he said swiftly, "and see to Elice." He was leading the other toward the entrance. "Listen. See that she goes to bed--at once; and you too. I'll attend to everything else. Trust me," and very gently he himself closed the door behind the other two.

It was after office hours of the day following when Stephen Armstrong, a bit pale but carefully groomed this time, entered the outer room of Darley Roberts' office and, with decided reluctance, approached the private apartment beyond. The door was open. Seated before the big desk, s.h.i.+rt-sleeved as usual, Roberts sat working. As the newcomer approached he wheeled about.

"Come in," he said simply. "I'm glad to see you."

The visitor took a seat by the open window and looked out rather obviously.

"I just received your note a bit ago," he began perfunctorily, "and called instead of giving you an appointment, as you asked. It's the least I could do after last night." He halted, looking at the building opposite steadily. "I want you to know that I appreciate thoroughly what you did for me then. I--I'm heartily ashamed, of course."

"Don't speak of it, please," swiftly. "I've forgotten it and I'm sure Miss Gleason and her father have done the same. No one else knows, so let's consider it never occurred. It never will again, I'm sure, so what's the use of remembering? Is it agreed?"

Armstrong's narrow shoulders lifted in silence.

"As for not speaking of it again," he answered after a moment, "yes.

Whether or not in the future, however--I'm not liar enough to promise things I can't deliver."