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  IV

  Before night Susannah had found a room which exactly suited her purpose.This was as much a matter of design as of luck. She had heard of theplace before. It was a large building in the West Twenties which hadformerly been the imposing parsonage of an imposing and very importantchurch. The church had long ago gone the way of all old Manhattanbuildings. But the parsonage, divided into an infinite number ofcubby-hole rooms, had become a lodging-house. A lodging-house with adifference, however. For whereas in the ordinary establishment of thiskind, one paid rent to a landlady who lived on the spot, here one paidit to an agent who came from somewhere, promptly every Monday morning,for the purpose of collection. It was a perfect hiding-place. You didnot know your neighbor. Your neighbor did not know you. With due care,one could plan his life so that he met nobody.

  Susannah, except for a choice of rooms, did not for an interval plan herlife at all. She made that choice instantly, however. Of two roomssituated exactly opposite each other at the back of the second floor,she chose one because it overlooked a yard containing a tree. It was atiny room, whitewashed; meagerly and nondescriptly furnished. But thedoor-frame and window-frame offered decoration. Following theecclesiastical design of the whole house, they peaked into triangles ofcarved wood.

  Susannah gave scant observation to any of these things. Once alone inher room, she locked the door. Then she removed two things from hersuitcase--a nightgown and the miniature of Glorious Lutie. The lattershe suspended by a thumbtack beside the mirror of her bureau. Then sheundressed and went to bed. She slept fitfully all the rest of that dayand all that night. Early in the morning she crept out, bought herself,at a Seventh Avenue delicatessen shop, a jar of milk and a loaf ofbread. She lunched and dined in her room. She breakfasted next morningon the remains.

  Her sleep was deep and dreamless; but in her waking moments her thoughtspursued the same treadmill.

  "Glorious Lutie," she began one of the wordless monologues which she wasalways addressing to the miniature, "I ought to have known long ago thatthey were a gang of crooks! Why don't we trust our intuitions? I supposeit's because our intuitions are not always right. I can't quite go withanything so magic, so irrational as intuition! And then again I'm afraidI'm too logical. But I'm always having the same thing happen to me.Perhaps I'm talking with somebody I have met for the first time.Suddenly that person makes a statement. Instantly--it's like a littlehammer knocking on my mind--something inside me says: 'That is a lie. Heis lying deliberately and he knows he lies.' Now you would think that Iwould trust that lead, that I would follow it implicitly. But do I? No!Never! I pay no more attention to it than as though it never happened.And generally my intuition is right. But always I find it out too late.Now that little hammer has been knocking its warnings about theWarner-Byan-O'Hearn bunch ever since I started to work for them. But Icould not _make_ myself pay any attention to it. I did not want tobelieve it, for one thing. And then of course the work was awfullyinteresting. I kept calling myself all kinds of names for thinking-- Andthey _were_ kind. I _wouldn't_ believe it. But my intuition kept tellingme that Warner was a hypocrite. And as for Byan--"

  Perhaps Susannah could not voice, even to Glorious Lutie, the thoughtsthat flooded her mind when she conjured up the image of Byan. For in herheart Susannah knew that Byan admired her overmuch, that he would haveliked to flirt with her, that he had started-- But Warner had called himoff. The enigmatic phrase, which had come to her from Warner's officeand in Warner's voice, recurred. "Keep off clients and office employ--"Susannah knew the end of it now--"employees" of course. Warner's rulefor his fellow crooks was that they must not flirt with clients or theoffice force. Again and again in her fitful wakefulness she saw Byanstanding before her; slim, blade-like; his smartly cut suit adhering, asthough pasted there, to the lithe lines of his active body. And thensuddenly that revolver which came from--where? Byan was of course themost attractive of them all. That floating, pathetic smile revealed suchwhite teeth! That deep look came from eyes so long-lashed! Warner withhis pseudo-clergyman, pseudo-actor oratory, deep-voiced and vibrant, wasthe most obvious. O'Hearn, his lids perpetually down, except when theylifted swiftly to let his glance lick up detail, was the mostmysterious. But Byan was the most attractive--

  "Yes, Glorious Lutie, I was always receiving letters which started thatlittle hammer of intuition knocking. I was always overhearing bits ofconversation which started it; although often I could not understand aword. I was always trying to piece things together--wondering-- Well,the next time I'll know better. I've learned my lesson. But oh--think,think, _think_ what I've helped to do. They robbed widows and orphansand all kinds of helpless people. Of course I didn't know I was doingit. But that's going to haunt me for a long, long time. I wish therewere some way I could make up. I've come out of it safe. But they--oh, Imustn't think of this. I _mustn't_. I can't stand it if I do. Oh,Glorious Lutie, believe me, my guardian angel was certainly on _that_job. Otherwise I don't know what would have become of me. Are you myguardian angel, I wonder?"

  When Susannah finally arose for good, she discovered, naturally enough,that she was hungry. She went out immediately and, in the nearestChild's restaurant, ordered a dinner which she afterward described toGlorious Lutie as "magnanimously, munificently, magnificentlymasculine." It consisted mainly of sirloin steak and boiled potatoes,"and I certainly ate my fill of them both." Then she took a littleaimless, circumscribed walk; returned to her room. She unpacked hertightly stratified suitcase; hung her clothes in her little closet;ranged her small articles in the bureau drawer. As though she were goingto start clean in her new career, she bathed and washed her hair in thepublic bathroom on the second floor. Coming back into her room, she satfor a long time before the window while her dripping locks dried. Shesat there through the dusk.

  "After all, Glorious Lutie," she reflected contentedly, "why do I everlive in anything bigger than a hall bedroom? All a girl needs is a bed,a bureau, one chair and a closet, and that is exactly what I've got. Andfor full measure they have thrown in all those ducky little backyardsand a tree. I don't expect you to believe it, but I tell you true. Atree in Manhattan. How do you suppose it got by the censor! And justnow, if you please, a tiny new moon all tangled up in its branches. It'strying its best to get out, but it can't make it. I never saw a new moonstruggle so hard. Honest, I can hear it pant for breath. It looks like asilver fish that tried to leap out of this window and got caught in agreen net. I suppose your Glorious Susie must be thinking of annexing ajob sometime, Glorious Lutie. Or else we'll cease to eat. But for a fewdays I won't, if you don't mind; I'm fed up on jobs. And I've lost mytaste for offices. No, I think I'll take those few days off and do arubberneck trip around Manhattan. I feel like looking on innocentobjects that can't speak or think. And for a time I don't want to go anyplace where I'd be likely to see my friends of the Carbonado MiningCompany. After a while the thought of them won't bother me so. Probablyby this time they have hired some other poor girl. Perhaps she won'tmind Mr. Cowler though. Anyway, I'm free of them."

  When Susannah awoke the next morning, which was the third of heroccupancy of the little room, some of her normal vitality had flowedback, her spirits began to mount. She sang--she even whistled--as shebathed and dressed; and she indulged in no more than the usual number ofexasperated exclamations over the uncoilableness of her freshlyshampooed, sparkling hair. "Why do we launder our tresses, I ask you,Glorious Lutie?" she questioned once. "And oh, why didn't I have regulargold hair like yours instead of this garnet mane? I look like--I looklike--Azinnia! But oh, I ought never to complain when I reflect thatI've escaped the curse of white eyelashes."

  A consideration first of the shimmery day outside, and next of theclothes hanging in her closet, deflected her attention from thisgrievance. She chose from her closet a salmon-colored linen gown,slightly faded to a delicate golden rose. It was a long, slim dress andit made as much as possible of every inch of Susannah's long slimness.Moreover, it was notably successful in bringing out the blue
of herbrilliant eyes, the red of her brilliant hair, the contrasting white ofher smooth warm skin. That face now so shone and smelled of soap that,the instant she caught sight of it in the glass, she pulled open the topdrawer of her bureau and powdered it frantically.

  "I always shine, Glorious Lutie, as though I had washed with brasspolish. I don't remember that you ever glistened. But I do remember thatyou always smelled as sweet as--roses, or new-mown hay, or heliotrope. Iwonder what powder you did use? And it was a very foxy move on yourpart, to have yourself painted in just that soft swirl of blue tulle.You look as though you were rising from a cloud. I wonder what yourdresses were like? I seem to remember pale blues and pinks; verydelicate yellows and the most silvery grays. It seems to me that tulleand tarlatan and maline were your dope. Do you think, Glorious Lutie,when I reach your age, I shall be as good-looking as you?"

  Glorious Lutie, with that reticence which distinguishes the inhabitantsof portraits, made no answer. But an observer might have said that theyoung face, staring alternately at the mirror and at the miniature,would some day mature to a face very like the one which stared back atit from the gold frame. Both were blonde. But where Glorious Lutie'seyes were a misty brown-lashed azure, Glorious Susie's were a spiriteddark-lashed turquoise. Glorious Lutie's hair was like a golden crown,beautifully carved and burnished. Glorious Susie's turbulent mane wasred, and it made a rumpled, coppery bunch in her neck. However, familyresemblances peered from every angle of the two faces, althoughdifferences of temperament made sharp contrast of their expressions.Glorious Lutie was all soft, dreamy tenderness; Susannah, all spirit,active charm, resolution.

  Susannah spent three days--almost carefree--of of what she described tothe miniature as "touristing." She had very little time to converse withGlorious Lutie; for the little room saw her only at morning and night.But she gave her confidante a detailed account of the day's adventures."It was the Bronx Zoo this morning, Glorious Lutie," she would say."Have you ever noticed how satisfactory little beasties are? They don'tlay traps for you and try to put you in a tortured position that youcan't wriggle out of?" Though her question was humorous in spirit,Susannah's eyes grew black, as with a sudden terror. "No, _we_ lay trapsfor _them_. I guess I've never before even tried to guess what it meansto be trapped?" Or, "It was the Art Museum this afternoon, GloriousLutie. I've looked at everything from a pretty nearly life-size replicaof the Parthenon to a needle used by a little Egyptian girl ten millionyears ago. I'm so full of information and dope and facts that, if anautopsy were to be held over me at this moment, it would be found thatmy brain had turned into an Encyclopaedia Britannica. In fact, I willmodestly admit that I know everything." Or, "It was the Aquarium thismorning, Glorious Lutie. Why didn't you tell me that fish wereinteresting? I've always hated a fish. They won't roll over or jumpthrough for you and practically none of them bark or sing--or anything.I have always thought of them only as something you eat unwillingly onFridays. But some of them are really beautiful; and interesting. Istayed there three hours; and I suppose if it hadn't been for the horridstenchy smell I'd be there yet."

  But in spite of these vivacious, wordless monologues, her spirits were along time rising to their normal height. The frightened look had notcompletely left her eyes; and often on her long, lonely walks, she wouldstop short suddenly, trembling like a spirited horse, as though someinner consideration harassed her. Then she would take up her walk at afrantic pace. Ultimately, however, she succeeded in leaving thoseterrifying considerations behind. And inevitably in the end, theresilience of youth conquered. The day came when Susannah leaped out ofbed as lightly as though it were her first morning in New York.

  "Glorious Lutie," began her ante-breakfast address, "we are not amillionairess; ergo, today we buy all the morning papers and read themat breakfast in order to hunt for a job via the ads. And perhaps thenext time your Glorious Susie begins to earn money, you might advise herto save a little against an unexpected situation. Of course I shouldn'thave squandered my money the way I did. But I never had had so muchbefore in my life--and oh, the joy of having cut-steel buckles and aperfectly beautiful raincoat--and my first set of furs--and perfumeryand everything."

  The advertising columns were not, she found (and attributed it to thereturn of so many men from France), very fecund. Each newspaper offeredonly from two to six chances worth considering. One, which appeared inall of them, seemed to afford the best opening. It read:

  "_Wanted_: A stenographer, lady-like appearance and address, with some executive experience. Steady job and quick advancement to right woman. Apply between 9 and 11, room 1009, Carman Building."

  "I am requested to apply for this spectacular job at the office itself,Glorious Lutie," she confided on her return to her room, "and I'm goingout immediately after it. It's a romantic thing, getting a job throughan advertisement. I hope I float up to the forty-sixth floor of askyscraper, sail into a suite of offices which fill the entire topstory; all Turkish rugs on the highly polished floor; all expensivepaintings on the delicately tinted walls; all cut flowers with yard-longstems in the finely cut crystal vases. I should like to find there a newemployer; tall, young, handsome, and dark. Dark he must be, GloriousLutie. I cannot marry a blond; our children would be albinos. He wouldaddress me thus: 'Most Beauteous Blonde--you arrive at a moment when weare so much in need of a secretary that if you don't immediately seatyourself at yon machine, we shall go out of business. Your salary is onehundred dollars a week. This exquisite rose-lined boudoir is for yourprivate use. You will find a bunch of fresh violets on your desk everymorning. May I offer you my Rolls-Royce to bring you back and forth towork? And,' having fallen in love with me instantly, 'how soon may I askyou to marry me?'"

  Susannah took the Subway to Wall Street; walked through that busycity-canyon to the Carman Building. She strode into the elevator, almostempty in the hour which followed the morning rush; started to emerge, asdirected by the elevator-man, at the tenth floor. But she did notemerge. Instead, her face as white as paper, she leaped back into theelevator; ascended with it to the top floor; descended with it;hurriedly left the building.

  That first casual glance down the corridor had given her a glimpse of H.Withington Warner sauntering slowly away from the elevator.

  "Say, Eloise," she said late that afternoon over the telephone to thefriend she had made at the Dorothy Dorr Home. "When can I see you?...Yes.... No.... Well, you see I'm out of a job at present.... No, I can'ttell you about it. This is a rooming-house. There is no telephone in myroom. I am telephoning from the hall. And so I'd rather wait until I seeyou. But in brief, I'm eating at Child's, soda-fountains and even peanutstands. I'm really getting back my girlish figure. Only I think I'mgoing to be a regular O. Henry story. Headlines as follows: _BeautifulTitian-haired_ (mark that _Titian-haired_, Eloise) _Blonde Dead ofStarvation. Drops Dead on Fifth Avenue. Too Proud to Beg._ I hope thatnone of those wicked reporters will guess that my new shoes with thecut-steel buckles cost thirty-five dollars. All right! All right.... The'Attic' at seven. I'll be there promptly as usual and you'll get therelate as usual.... Oh yes, you will! Thanks awfully, Eloise. I feel justlike going out to dinner."

  Eloise, living up to her promise, made so noble an effort that she wasonly ten minutes late. Then, as usual, she came dashing and sparklinginto the room; a slim brown girl, much browner than usual, for her coatof seashore tan; with narrow topaz eyes and deep dimples; very smart inembroidered linen and summer furs. The Attic restaurant occupied thewhole top floor of a very high, downtown West Side skyscraper. Its mainbusiness came at luncheon, so the girls sat almost alone in its long,cool quiet. They found a table in a little stall whose window overhungthe gray, fog-swathed river which seamlessly joined gray fog-misted sky.A moon, opaque as a scarlet wafer, seemed to be pasted at a spot thatcould be either river or sky. The girls ordered their inconsequentdinner. They talked their inconsequent girl chatter. They drank each aglass of May wine.

  Susannah had quite recovered her poise and he
r spirit. She described hernew room with great detail. She suggested that Eloise, whom sheinvariably addressed as, "you pampered minion of millions, you!" shouldcall on her in that scrubby hall bedroom. In fact, her narrative wentfrom joke to joke in a vein so steadily and so augmentingly gay that,when Eloise had paid the bill and they sat dawdling over their coffee,suddenly she found herself on the verge of breaking her vow of secrecy,of relating the horrors of the last week.

  "Eloise," she began, "I'm going to tell you something that I don't wantyou ever to--"

  And then the words dried on her lips. Her tongue seemed to turn to wood.She paled. She froze. Her eyes set on--

  O'Hearn was walking into the Attic.

  He did not perceive that instant terror of petrification; for ithappened he did not even glance in their direction. He walked,self-absorbed apparently, to the other end of the room. But hisface--Susannah got it clearly--was stony too. It had the look somehow ofa man about to perform a deed repugnant to him.

  "What's the matter, Sue?" Eloise asked in alarm. "You look awfully illall of a sudden."

  "The fact is," Susannah answered with instant composure, "I feel alittle faint, Eloise. Do you mind if we go now? I really should like tohave a little air."

  "Not at all," Eloise answered. "Any time you say. Come on!"

  They made rapidly for the elevator. Susannah did not glance back. Butinwardly she thanked her guardian-angel for the fortuitous miracle bywhich intervening waiters formed a screen. Not until they had walkedblock after block, turning and twisting at her own suggestion, didSusannah feel safe.

  "Oh, what was it you were going to tell me, Susannah," Eloiseinterrupted suddenly, "just before we left the Attic?"

  "I don't seem to remember at this moment," Susannah evaded. "Perhaps itwill come to me later."

  * * * * *

  Susannah did not sleep very well that night. But by morning she hadrecovered her poise. "Glorious Lutie," she said wordlessly from her bed,"I think I'll go seriously to the business of getting a job. It'll takemy mind off--things. I'm going to ignore that little _rencontre_ ofyesterday. Don't you despair. The handsome young employer with hisromantic eyes and movie-star eyelashes awaits me somewhere. And just assoon as we're married, you shall be hung in a manner befitting yourbirth and station in a drawing-room as big as Central Park. I wish itweren't so darn hot. Somehow too, I don't feel so strong about answeringads in _person_ as I did two days ago."

  On her way to breakfast she bought all the newspapers. She spent hermorning answering advertisements by letter. She received no replies tothis first batch; but she pursued the same course for three days.

  "Glorious Lutie," she addressed the miniature a few days later, "this isbeginning to get serious. I am now almost within sight of the end billin my wad. In point of fact I will not conceal from you that today Ipawned my one and only jewel--my jade ring. You don't know how naked Ifeel without it. It will keep us for--perhaps it will last three weeks.And after that-- However, I don't think we'll either of us starve. Youdon't take any sustenance and I take very little these days. I wish thisweather would change. You are so cool living in that blue cloud,Glorious Lutie, that you don't appreciate what it's like when it'sninety in the shade and still going up. I'm getting pretty sick of it. Iguess," she concluded, smiling, "I'll make out a list of the friends Ican appeal to in case of need."

  The idea seemed to raise her spirits. She sat down and turned to theunused memorandum portion of her diary. Her list ran something likethis:

  New York--

  No. 1--First and foremost--Eloise, who, being an heiress and the ownerof a check-book, never has any real cash and always borrows from me.

  Providence--

  No. 2--Barty Joyce--Always has money because he's prudent--and the saltof the earth--

  P.S. Eloise never pays the money back that she borrows from me--

  "Will you tell me, Glorious Lutie, why I don't fall in love with Bartyand why he doesn't fall in love with me? There's something awfully outabout me. I don't think I've been in love more than six times; and theonly serious one was the policeman on the beat who had a wife and fivechildren."

  Providence again--

  No. 3--The Coburns--nice, comfy, middle-aged folks; not rich; the bestfriends a girl could possibly have.

  No. 4--

  But here she yawned loudly and relinquished the whole proceeding.

  That afternoon Susannah visited several employment agencies which dealtwith office help. She answered all the inquiries that theirquestionnaires put to her; omitting any reference to the CarbonadoMining Company. It was late in the afternoon when she finished. Shewalked slowly homeward down the Avenue. Outside of her own door, shetried to decide whether she would go immediately to dinner or lie downfirst. A sudden fatigue forced decision in favor of a nap. She walkedwearily up the first flight of stairs. Ahead, someone was ascending thesecond flight--a man. He turned down the hall. She followed. He stoppedat the room opposite hers; fumbled unsuccessfully with the key. As sheapproached, she glanced casually in his direction.

  It was Byan.