DUSKIN (19 page)

“Why, no,” said Carol, “not personally, but they are friends of Mrs. Fawcett.”

“Which Mrs. Fawcett, Chicago or New York?” he asked sharply.

“New York.”

“Oh, well, they’re probably all right then.
Fred
Fawcett’s wife runs with a pretty speedy lot. Well, I hope you won’t have too hard a time, and you’ll be careful, won’t you? Don’t be too ready to trust strangers.”

He suddenly looked down at her and laughed.

“I guess you won’t.” And they both remembered how he had told her yesterday that she did not trust him.

“By the way,” he said as he slipped off his high stool and helped her down, “what’s become of Delaplaine? Where does he fit in in this scheme of things?”

“He fits in,” said Carol, her cheeks flaming.

“I see. But how? Did you dismiss him?”

Carol hesitated, then she lifted honest, humiliated eyes.

“No, he dismissed himself!”

Duskin laughed, a merry twinkle in his eyes.

“Good old Delaplaine. I knew he wouldn’t come if he understood, but I’m sorry
you
didn’t do it. I hoped that perhaps you had come to have a little more confidence in me by yourself. Just in the nature of things.”

“I have.”

“You would, naturally, after talking with Delaplaine. He’s that way. He can’t help it.”

“But I have,” persisted Carol, “by myself.”

He looked at her wistfully.

“I hope someday that’ll really be true,” he said earnestly. Then he opened the door for her and they were out in the street once more.

“I must hurry,” he said with another glance at his watch. “I had a phone call in for half past, long distance. Excuse me, won’t you? Come down tomorrow afternoon about two, and maybe I’ll have been able to straighten out my desk before that and have some letters for you to write.”

“But I’m coming along now,” she said firmly. “I can straighten out that desk much quicker and better than you can. It’s my business. You needn’t worry I’ll read any of your private correspondence. I’m not that kind.”

“Help yourself.” He laughed. “I haven’t had any time for private correspondence for a year. It seems awful for me to let you attack that mess in my office, but go to it if that’s what you want. Sorry I can’t help you.”

He was up the steps and at the telephone, which was wildly ringing as he reached it, and was saying, “Duskin at the phone.” A few words of conversation, a quick, “Send it by fast express this afternoon. If it doesn’t reach me by tomorrow morning the deal’s all off. Good-bye.”

Carol had lingered in the hall until he was through, and when he dashed by her to give some directions to the men at work on the elevator, he did not seem to see her. Perhaps he had already forgotten her. Strange she had ever thought that he was lazy and indifferent to his job. How wrong she had been.

She went into the office and took stock of the situation. Then she went to the telephone and called up a typewriter agency, ordering a machine sent down to the building at once for immediate use. After a quick investigation of the supply of stationery in the desk drawers, she looked up a stationery store and ordered some paper, pencils, erasers, and a few other supplies. Then she took off her hat and set to work.

She had just gathered up the first layer of papers from the desk when a shadow loomed in the doorway, stealthily, and did not pass on like the other shadows that came and went. Looking up she saw Schlessinger standing there watching her with fond, foxy eyes and a smile!

C
arol experienced a sudden feeling of fright when she saw who it was. Yet there were plenty of people around, and of course her feeling was foolish. Still there had been something sinister in Duskin’s warning.

“So, I have found you at last!” said Schlessinger with an intimacy in his tone which she resented.

“Oh, Mr. Schlessinger, were you looking for me?” she asked in her most businesslike tone. “Did you get the letter from the office you said you were expecting?”

“Why, no, I’m not sure whether one came or not,” said Schlessinger indifferently. “It wasn’t about that. I was looking for you to take you to lunch, little girl! How sweet you are looking today. Girls of today know how to look sweet, don’t they?”

Carol flushed angrily, but then decided to ignore his compliments.

“It is impossible for me to take time for social engagements, Mr. Schlessinger. I’m sorry if you have not received your answer from the office. They are probably very busy. With Mr. Fawcett and me both away it makes the office a little short on staff, you know, and there is a lot to do. I’ll wire them to forward your reply by telegraph if you are in a hurry.”

“Oh, not at all, not at all. There’s no hurry whatever. But why are you so shy of social engagements, little girl? I want you to meet some of my friends. It isn’t every day we have a visitor to our little old city so distinguished both for her beauty and her cleverness!”

“Excuse me, Mr. Schlessinger. I would rather you wouldn’t talk like that. I am here for business and nothing else and have no desire for social engagements.”

“But you are going out to dinner tonight with Mrs. Arthwait.”

Suddenly, with relief, Carol saw that Duskin was standing in the doorway just behind Schlessinger, glaring at his back.

“Now, Schlessinger,” he fairly roared, “if you will follow me I will show you what arrangements we are making for the lights in your private office. Just step this way quickly, please. The lift is about to go up, and the men have had to stop working until it is out of the way.”

Schlessinger turned sharply, almost angrily, and his aplomb disappeared as soundlessly as the air goes out of a balloon.

“Oh, Duskin! That you? Why such haste? Oh— Ah—Well—I’ll see you in a few minutes, Miss Berkley,” and he bowed himself after the frowning Duskin.

Carol was not in the office when Schlessinger came down a few minutes later, assiduously attended by Duskin. Schlessinger went prowling around every room and even insisted on going down to the cellar on some trifling excuse or other, wasting a good half hour of Duskin’s time keeping tab on him, but he could not find any trace of the secretary. She had taken her hat and fled as soon as the lift was up out of sight and was even then biding her time in a telephone booth of the drugstore across the way, where she could watch the door and yet be hidden from the street.

It was not until Schlessinger’s car had turned the corner and was out of sight that she came out of her hiding and went back to her work in the office. It certainly was going to be strenuous work being secretary for Duskin in that building.

But she had the letters in neatly assorted piles, duly strapped with rubber bands, labeled, and put away in the drawers before she left the building at half past six. She was all ready to go to work bright and early the next morning, and she decided on the way back to the hotel that she would ask Duskin to see that there was a lock and key for the door of the office before another day passed. She simply could not work if she had to keep an eye out for Schlessinger and his sort all the time.

She would rather have remained at the office that evening, and if she had not promised to go to dinner with Mrs. Arthwait, she would have risked another meal at the hot dog place and gotten a lot of letters answered for Duskin to sign the next day.

She had telephoned the hotel to get in touch with the Arthwaits if possible and give them a message that she would not be able to dine with them, but she had utterly failed to locate them, and there seemed nothing to be done at that late hour but to keep her engagement.

She took a taxi back to the hotel knowing that she would have all she could do to get ready before the hour set, which was half past seven.

She hesitated on what to wear, for she had no idea where they were going, but finally decided on the black dress once more. She wanted to keep her character of a businesswoman and not look too festive, although she was longing to try out the little blue chiffon which her mother had finished only a few days before she left and which looked like a dream as it hung in the closet. But the memory of Paisley Arthwait’s chinless face and affected waxed moustache made her firm. She did not want to seem to dress up for him.

She looked very lovely, however, in the severe lines of the black frock and her little black hat. She was just fastening the silver rose on her shoulder more securely when the telephone buzzed and word came that the Arthwait car was awaiting her pleasure.

She hurried down, wishing the evening were over. She wanted to get a good sleep tonight to be ready for work early in the morning. If it was at all possible she would beg to be excused as soon as dinner was over and ask to be taken back to the hotel. Of course she must be polite, however, if she found they had bought tickets for something. She would probably have to see the whole thing through on Mrs. Fawcett’s account. Although, why should Mrs. Fawcett care whether her husband’s secretary socialized with one of her old schoolmates or not? There really was no obligation.

She found young Paisley standing by the desk awaiting her.

“The car is just out here,” he said, leading her toward the door. She came out to the entrance to find a limousine drawn up in the shadow at one side. Paisley opened the door and she stepped in expecting to find Mrs. Arthwait. Paisley slammed the door shut and hurried around to the other side of the car, and when Carol looked she saw that she was seated in the front seat, with Paisley getting in beside her and no one else in the backseat.

“Why, where is your mother?” she asked, startled.

“Oh, that’s so,” he replied. “I forgot to explain, didn’t I? Why, Mother—” Just then he got in a particularly congested bit of traffic and for a moment or two had all he could do to extricate himself, and Carol had a few thrills on her own account as the car nearly collided with two others, escaping by a hairsbreadth.

“Pardon me,” he resumed, as they sped around a corner into a quieter street. “Where was I? Oh yes, Mother has been having a fierce time today. She is subject to terrific headaches, and worse luck one came on today. She’s been doctoring up all day, tried all her usual remedies, but though the severe pain has left her, she’s as weak as a rage and not fit to sit up, much less eat any dinner. She’s awfully sorry to miss it, but she said to tell you she’d go next time, and we must enjoy it for her, too.”

“Oh, but—really—” gasped Carol, sitting up straight in her seat and speaking earnestly. “Won’t you please turn back and let us wait until your mother is better? I couldn’t think of going without her, and I am very tired myself.”

“Oh, no indeedy!” refused the young man, laughing and stepping on the gas. “Mother wouldn’t forgive me if I let you do that. Besides, our table is reserved and everything arranged for.”

“Well, but,” said Carol, looking wildly around her and wishing she could jump out, “couldn’t you call up and cancel the reservation? I really would be much happier to wait till your mother can go along. Besides, I’ve been trying to get you on the telephone all the afternoon to tell you that I was afraid I should have to put it off on account of other things that have come up. It was only because I failed to get you up to the last minute that I hurriedly got ready to go. It really would be much more convenient to me if you would take me back and let me go some other evening.”

“Nothing doing,” grinned the young man fiendishly and stepped on the gas still harder. “Aw, you needn’t worry if it’s chaperones you’re thinking about. There’ll be plenty of Mother’s friends out there. I’ll ring in one of them if you insist, though Mother thought we’d have a much better time by ourselves, and nobody bothers about chaperones anymore.”

Carol said nothing. She was trying to think of a way out of it, and a sudden memory of Duskin’s warning and Schlessinger’s last sentence—“You’re going to dinner with Mrs. Arthwait”—came to her. She had forgotten it in her busy afternoon. How did Schlessinger happen to know about the dinner? Was he a friend of the Arthwaits’? Her heart began to beat rapidly. It was then that she had for the first time a sudden memory of Schlessinger’s walking over toward the big couch to speak to someone as she was being carried up in the elevator the night before. Was that only the night before? So many things had happened since then. Yes, and hadn’t those same two people sat on that couch as Schlessinger first approached her? A purple dress and white hair!

But it was no use thinking things like this now. She must either coax this youth to take her back or make the best of it.

“I really would be obliged to you if you would take me back,” she said gravely.

“Aw now, be a good sport,” he laughed. “I’ll show you a good time all right, just as good as if the old dame had gone along. Besides, we’re almost there now.”

Carol glanced out and saw that they were out in the country, speeding along at a terrific rate. The car careened from one side to the other whenever they struck a rough bit of road, and the few lighted dwellings along the way were far between and seemed to shoot by like comets. Even if she could force him to let her out here, what could she do? She would not know how to get back alone.

“Where are we going?” she asked anxiously.

“Oh, out to a dandy place where they have great eats! Make a specialty of chicken and waffles and things like that. Have wonderful mushrooms, too; steak and mushrooms to make your mouth water! People come from Chicago down here to get their steak and mushroom dinners. Greatest ever. Plenty to drink, too. Get anything you want. Have a cigarette?”

He offered her a gold cigarette case.

“No, thank you,” she declined coldly, “I don’t smoke.”

“Why not?” he asked unabashed. “All the girls are doing it. Better learn tonight. No time like the present.”

“Thank you, I don’t care to!” Carol’s tone was freezing. She began to feel more and more uncomfortable. She decided that she would demand to be taken home immediately after dinner. She wished with all her heart that she had never come. Here again was another of her fatal mistakes. Oh, why had she been sent to this terrible city! What would her mother say if she could see her now, speeding along through the night to nobody knew where with a stranger who talked in a tongue that belonged to another world than hers?