DUSKIN (5 page)

A
t breakfast the two men came and sat down at a table opposite hers and seemed to take delight in watching her.

Though she kept her glance out the window at the new country which, but for them, would have been interesting, she still felt their gaze. It seemed to her that they were trying to disconcert her, that they understood she did not like it and for that reason fiendishly continued to annoy her.

She finished her breakfast sooner than she would have chosen and slipped back to her own car, leaving the door of the drawing room open for the convenience of the conductor, but drawing the inner curtain shut and keeping herself well out of sight on the seat that backed toward the rest of the car. It seemed bitter to her that even the pleasure she might have taken from the journey into a new part of the country had to be spoiled by her dread of these men.

She took out the memorandum she had made of their half-whispered conversation the afternoon before and reread it, wondering if perhaps she had misconstrued some of their sentences, for she had been tired then. But no, they seemed more incriminating than when she had first heard them, and she put them away and began to ponder just how she should use them.

It was a serious thing of course, to make a charge against them, especially so grave a charge as the evidence she held made necessary. And she was a girl alone, with no one whom she dared trust to advise her. If Mr. Fawcett had only been well it would have been a simple enough matter to have handed him the sheets on which she had typed their conversation and turned the whole thing over to him. But here she was in Mr. Fawcett’s place, possessed of knowledge that no one else in the company knew, and sworn to act according to her best judgment in everything regarding the Fawcett Construction Company.

Should she have consulted someone in the office before she left? Her judgment told her no. She tried to think of one who could have been trusted with the information. Mr. Clough, the bookkeeper, would have been for having the men arrested without further ado, and perhaps that was what should have been done. If she only knew! And yet on the other hand, it might have been disastrous to precipitate matters if it should turn out that these men were in the confidence of the owner, for instance.

It seemed to her that really the first thing she ought to do was to find out who the men were—where they lived and what relation they sustained to the matter. And how was she to go about it? Perhaps she had better telegraph tonight to the office boy and get him to wire the names of the two men. Their cards would likely be at the desk by the elevator, or perhaps lying on Mr. Fawcett’s desk. Harry was a smart boy. She would say, “Send all information possible about two men you brought to the office yesterday at two o’clock. Wire answer care Duskin.” Then perhaps it would be there when she arrived. That would help greatly. Only where then would the two men be? Her birds might already have flown. Well, it was the best she could do. Perhaps she might get some clue in Chicago that would make things plainer, or she might even find it wise to ask the younger Fawcett’s advice. One thing was certain: she did not intend to give those men any more opportunities of seeing her than were necessary. To this end she managed to watch their movements, from the shelter of her curtain, and when she saw them get up and go to the smoking room, their hands obviously searching for cigars in their upper pockets, she drew a long breath and relaxed her vigilance.

The men had to pass her door to go to the diner, and she kept a diligent watch on their movements when it came near mealtime—knew when they went to the diner and when they returned to their seats, and timed her own meals accordingly—so that she did not again come in direct contact with them. But she could not get them out of her mind. They were like carrion crows that continued to hang over her head.

The afternoon’s monotony was broken by a telegram which the porter brought to her. As she took it, she noticed with eyes that were business-wise that the envelope had been torn open, and she gave the porter a questioning glance.

“It’s been opened?”

“Yes, miss,” the porter apologized. “The gemmen, he done make a mistake. He expected it were fer him. He sends his regrets. Gemmen back dere where you was last night, miss. He see de number of de seckshum on de emvelup and take it de message was fer him.”

Carol felt a sinister apprehension stealing over her. Those men again! They had managed to read her telegram!

She gave the porter a quarter and got rid of him, but her heart felt uneasy as she opened the telegram and read:

Carol sat in a daze and stared at the telegram. Well, at least there was nothing there that would give any information to those two prying men! But what kind of a situation was she in now? She couldn’t stay over and attend a dinner with a lot of men! Didn’t they know she was a woman?

She examined the telegram but found no Mr. or Miss on either message or envelope, just her initials. Hadn’t she said Miss in her telegram?

Surely they wouldn’t expect a woman to speak; yet the telegram that she had sent from the office gave all reason to suppose that the coming representative was fully capable of taking Fawcett’s place. What should she do? She grew hot and cold, and a constriction of fright came in her throat. Ah, now indeed she saw clearly that her mother had been right and this was no situation for Carol Berkley to be in!

Gradually, however, out of the daze and horror her thoughts began to clear as she read and reread that message. Certain catchwords stuck in her mind: “His representative!” “Great opportunity!” and “Several important men present!” Ideas began to shape themselves in her thoughts. She began to wish she were a man and could make a speech to those men whom her employer had so earnestly desired to influence in favor of the company. Loyalty to her cause which she had not known she possessed came to the forefront. Her business mind longed to be able to use this opportunity. Of course she couldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t! But she wished it were possible all the same. She began to set about planning a speech for Frederick Fawcett to make in her place. She would outline to him several of the things she had heard Mr. Fawcett discuss with his brother Edgar before the latter left to go abroad.

She began jotting them down on a pad, and as she wrote, other ideas came to her, and strangely, a funny story that had been told in connection with one of the items. Well, she couldn’t put that down. She mustn’t furnish wit as well as wisdom for this speech. If she knew Frederick Fawcett at all—though she had seen him but once briefly when he visited the office a year before—he was not the kind of man who would want a speech written for him, though of course he would not resent a few facts jotted down.

When he came on the train she would give them to him and say that she must go on her way that night. She would get right into the subject she had come to talk about, and when she was through, he ought to have plenty of material for a speech. He was a Fawcett and it was his dinner; let him attend to it. She was only here to furnish facts and straighten out tangles. Of course when he saw that she was a girl he would not urge her. He would be glad to have her refuse. But it really was amusing that he had taken her for a man. How Betty would enjoy that! It would furnish good material for the letter she meant to write home tomorrow.

The items to be incorporated in Mr. Frederick Fawcett’s speech were neatly tabulated and ready for him long before the landscape began to indicate that Chicago might be near, and Carol had made herself as immaculate as it is possible to do on board a train and was ready for her interview. An overwhelming sense of her responsibility began to come down upon her the last half hour of her wait, and she wished numberless times that she had never come; yet there was still an eagerness to make good and represent Mr. Fawcett as well as possible.

The train paused for just an instant in a well-populated town and then hurried on again. Carol pressed her face against the windowpane and tried to see if anyone was getting on but could not tell. She finally decided they had not reached the right station yet. She sat watching the little villages go by and wishing the ordeal over, rehearsing carefully what she meant to say at first and how she would make it very plain that there was no possibility whatever of her staying to that dinner. There was no need for her to be on the lookout for Fawcett, because she had rung for the porter and given him explicit orders to bring the gentleman to the drawing room at once when he should arrive. There was nothing left for her to do but try to quiet her excited heart and steady herself for the interview.

It must have been five minutes later that, glancing out the door of her drawing room, she saw him coming down the aisle to her.

She knew him at once and remembered instantly how she had made fun of his affected walk and the way he wore his hat—carried it tenderly as if it was human and a respected part of himself.

Frederick Fawcett was a man of the world. He was accustomed to veiling his thoughts. After the first brief flicker of astonishment he was courtesy itself.

For Carol had risen at once and met him at the door with the cool little air she was accustomed to settle visitors with who were too insistent to see her employer when he was busy.

“Mr. Fawcett!” she began when he paused uncertainly before the door. “I am Miss Berkley.”

She left him no opportunity to be perplexed, and he adjusted himself instantly and perfectly to the situation.

“Miss Berkley! I believe I met you before in my uncle’s office, did I not? I wasn’t quite sure of the name, but now that I see your face, I recognize you. You were my uncle’s secretary?” he hazarded. “I am so glad it was you who came because you will fit in so perfectly with our plans.”

Carol felt that somehow her cool businesslike manner was being ignored and she was being put on the level of a social acquaintance. Just why did he do that? Had he some ax to grind, or was she growing suspicious?

“Shall we sit down while I explain the situation, and then we shall have the preliminaries out of the way by the time we reach the city and you can have time to rest and dress for the evening?”

Carol caught her breath and had her lips ready to stop him, but he gave her no opportunity. He motioned her to a seat and took the one opposite her. She had a fleeting vision as she turned away from the outer door of two heads at the far end of the car craned in her direction, and the curious expectant look on those two faces hovered over her and hindered her in saying the things she had planned to say. Had it been possible that Mr. Frederick Fawcett had been in conference with those two before he came to her? He came from that direction.

Oh of course! He had naturally gone to that section first to inquire for her. How foolishly anxious she was growing, and almost childishly suspicious! Then she roused herself to protest.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fawcett, but it will be quite impossible for me to remain tonight and equally impossible for me to make a speech if I could remain. I am not a public speaker. Of course you did not expect the representative to be a woman or you would not have suggested it.” She smiled pleasantly, and turning to the briefcase which she had open on the seat ready for use, she began to take out the papers she had prepared.

“I assure you, Miss Berkley, it is all the more interesting that you are a woman—and a young and attractive one as well. This is the age of women. I think my uncle did wisely in sending you in his place, and I believe we are going to have a great evening. As for the speech, it is not necessary for you to say much. We can talk that over later. I will just tell you what I have planned.”

“But really, Mr. Fawcett, it’s impossible for me to stay,” broke in Carol in a panic. “It’s quite important that I get on my way tonight. I must see Mr. Duskin at the earliest possible moment. Mr. Fawcett impressed that upon me.”

“Mr. Duskin has been in Chicago all day and will not return before tomorrow sometime,” said Fawcett smiling, “so you would not gain anything by going on tonight. In fact it is quite possible that you may be able to see him this evening—I’m not sure.”

Carol’s face darkened, but she closed her lips on the exclamation of disapproval that she had almost uttered. She must not let this man know how utterly she disapproved of the other one. If he realized how inadequate to the job Duskin was proving himself it might affect his attitude toward the whole thing. Nobody must know that the Duskin job was in jeopardy until she had pulled it up and set it on its feet.

“Really, Mr. Fawcett,” she said firmly, bringing forward the excuse that is always a woman’s final refuge, “it’s quite impossible for me to appear anywhere at an evening function. I’m not dressed properly. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I came straight from the office. I hadn’t much time after the accident, you know, and every second had to be spent in getting ready to leave my work.”

“Oh, why, really, Miss Berkley! You don’t suppose we’re going to let a little thing like an evening dress hinder us, do you? We can surely beg, borrow, or steal something for the occasion.” He glanced at his watch. “We shall get into the city before the stores are closed, I think; and anyhow, if we don’t, I have a good friend at Marshall and Fields. I’m sure he can slip us in and somehow serve us under the circumstances, even if we are a little late. I’ll telephone him as soon as we get into the station, and we’ll go right up there. The company will of course stand for anything you need to get, Miss Berkley. You don’t realize what all this means. I’m sure if my uncle were here he would say that you really must stay and help us out. You see this has been planned for a long time, and some of the invited guests are men of great importance. We had obstacles far greater than evening dresses to overcome before we gathered all our guests together. In fact, just now I had the good luck to meet with Schlessinger and Blintz, the men we’re building that Duskin job for, you know, and I certainly want you to use your personality on them. They’re being a bit difficult the last few weeks, and if we don’t get done right on time I’m afraid we’re going to have to pay the last pound of flesh.”