Jerry (14 page)

'I know, Dad, but it's so funny--Tony an Italian officer! He can't pronounce the ten--'leven words he does know right.'

'Of course he can't; he doesn't know as much Italian as I do. Can't these fools tell an American citizen when they see one? I'll teach 'em to go about chucking American citizens in jail. I'll telegraph the consul in Milan; I'll make an international matter of it!'

He fumed up and down the terrace, while Constance rose to her feet and followed after with a pretence at pacification.

'Hush, Dad! Don't be so excitable. It was a very natural mistake for them to make. But if Tony is really what he says he is it will be very easily proved. You must be sure of your ground, though, before you act. I don't like to say anything against poor Tony now that he is in trouble, but I have always felt that there was a mystery connected with him. For all we know he may be a murderer or a brigand or an escaped convict in disguise. We only have his word, you know, that he is an American citizen.'

'His word!' Mr. Wilder fairly exploded. 'Are you utterly blind? He's exactly as much an American citizen as I am. He's----' He stopped and fanned himself furiously. He had sworn never to betray Tony's secret, and yet, the present situation was exceptional.

Constance patted him on the arm. 'There, Dad. I haven't a doubt his story is true. He was born in Budapest, and he's a naturalized American citizen. It's the duty of the United States Government to protect him--but it won't be difficult; I dare say he's got his naturalization papers with him. A word in the morning will set everything straight.'

'Leave him in jail all night?'

'But you can't do anything now; it's after ten o'clock; the authorities have gone to bed.'

She turned to Gustavo; her tone was reassuring.

'In the morning we'll get some American warships to bombard the jail.'

'Signorina, you joke!' His tone was reproachful.

She suddenly looked anxious. 'Gustavo, is the jail strong?'

'Ver' strong, signorina.'

'He can't escape and get over into Austria? We are very near the frontier, you know.'

'No, signorina, it is impossible.' He shook his head hopelessly.

Constance laughed and slipped her hand through her father's arm.

'Come, Dad. The first thing in the morning we'll go down to the jail and cheer him up. There's not the slightest use in worrying any more to-night. It won't hurt Tony to be kept in--er--cold storage for a few hours--I think on the whole it will do him good!'

She nodded dismissal to Gustavo, and drew her father, still muttering, toward the house.

CHAPTER XVII

Jerry Junior's letter of regret arrived from Riva on the early mail. In the light of Constance's effusively cordial invitation, the terse formality of his reply was little short of rude; but Constance read between the lines and was appeased. The writer, plainly, was angry, and anger was a much more becoming emotion than nonchalance. As she set out with her father toward the village jail, she was again buoyantly in command of the situation. She carried a bunch of oleanders, and the pink and white egg basket swung from her arm. Their way led past the gate of the Hotel du Lac, and Mr. Wilder, being under the impression that he was enjoying a very good joke all by himself, could not forgo the temptation of stopping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and Nannie had heard any news of the prodigal. They found the two at breakfast in the courtyard, an open letter spread before them. Nannie received them with lamentations.

'We can't come to the villa! Here's a letter from Jerry wanting us to start immediately for the Dolomites--did you ever know anything so exasperating?'

She passed the letter to Constance, and then as she remembered the first sentence, made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It was too late; Constance's eyes had already pounced upon it. She read it aloud with gleeful malice.

'"Who in thunder is Constance Wilder?"--If that's an example of the famous Jerry Junior's politeness, I prefer not to meet him, thank you.--It's worse than his last insult; I shall
never
forgive this!' She glanced down the page and handed it back with a laugh; from her point of vantage it was naïvely transparent. From Mr. Wilder's point, however, the contents were inscrutable; he looked from the letter to his daughter's serene smile, and relapsed into a puzzled silence.

'I should say, on the contrary, that he
doesn't
want you to start immediately for the Dolomites,' Constance observed.

'It's a girl,' Nannie groaned. 'I suspected it from the moment we got the telegram in Lucerne. Oh, why did I ever let that wretched boy get out of my sight?'

'I dare say she's horrid,' Constance put in. 'One meets such frightful Americans travelling.'

'We will go up to Riva on the afternoon boat and investigate.' It was Mrs. Eustace who spoke. There was an undertone in her voice which suggested that she was prepared to do her duty by her brother's son, however unpleasant that duty might be.

'American girls are so grasping,' said Nannie plaintively. 'It's scarcely safe for an unattached man to go out alone.'

Mr. Wilder leaned forward and reexamined the letter.

'By the way, Miss Nannie, how did Jerry learn that you were here? His letter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o'clock last night.'

Nannie examined the postmark. 'I hadn't thought of that! How could he have found out--unless that beast of a head waiter telegraphed? What does it mean?'

Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and raised his shoulders. 'You've got me!' A gleam of illumination suddenly flashed over his face; he turned to his daughter with what was meant to be a carelessly off-hand manner. 'Er--Constance, while I think of it, you didn't discharge Tony again yesterday, did you?'

Constance opened her eyes.

'Discharge Tony? Why should I do that? He isn't working for me.'

'You weren't rude to him?'

'Father, am I ever rude to any one?'

Mr. Wilder looked at the envelope again and shook his head. 'There's something mighty fishy about this whole business. When you get hold of that brother of yours again, my dear young woman, you make him tell what he's been up to this week--and make him tell the truth.'

'Mr. Wilder!' Nannie was reproachful. 'You don't know Jerry; he's incapable of telling anything but the truth.'

Constance tittered.

'What are you laughing at, Constance?'

'Nothing--only it's so funny. Why don't you advertise for him? Lost--a young man, age twenty-eight, height five feet eleven, weight one hundred and seventy pounds, dark hair, grey eyes, slight scar over left eyebrow; dressed when last seen in double-breasted blue serge suit and brown russet shoes. Finder please return to Hotel du Lac and receive liberal reward.'

'He isn't lost,' said Nannie. 'We know where he is perfectly; he's at the Hotel Sole d'Oro in Riva, and that's at the other end of the lake. We're going up on the afternoon boat to join him.'

'Oh!' said Constance meekly.

'You take my advice,' Mr. Wilder put in. 'Go up to Riva if you must--it's a pleasant trip--but leave your luggage here. See this young man in person and bring him back with you; tell him we have just as good mountains as he'll find in the Dolomites. If by any chance you shouldn't find him----'

'Of course, we'll find him!' said Nannie.

Constance looked troubled.

'Don't go, it's quite a long trip. Write instead and give the letter to Gustavo; he'll give it to the boat steward who will deliver it personally. Then if Jerry shouldn't be there----'

Nannie was losing her patience.

'Shouldn't be there? But he
says
he's there.'

'Oh! yes, certainly, that ends it. Only, you know, Nannie,
I
don't believe there really is any such person as Jerry Junior! I think he's a myth.'

Gustavo had been hanging about the gate looking anxiously up the road as if he expected something to happen. His brow cleared suddenly as a boy on a bicycle appeared in the distance. The boy whirled into the court and dismounted; glancing dubiously from one to the other of the group, he finally presented his telegram to Gustavo, who passed it on to Nannie. She ripped it open and ran her eyes over the contents.

'Can any one tell me the meaning of this? It's Italian!' She spread it on the table while the three bent over it in puzzled wonder.

'Ceingide mai maind dunat comtu Riva stei in Valedolmo geri.'

Constance was the first to grasp the meaning; she read it twice and laughed.

'That's not Italian; it's English, only the operator has spelt it phonetically--I begin to believe there is a Jerry,' she added, 'no one could cause such a bother who didn't exist.' She picked up the slip and translated--

'"Changed my mind. Do not come to Riva; stay in Valedolmo--JERRY."'

'I'm a clairvoyant, you see. I told you he wouldn't be there!'

'But where is he?' Nannie wailed.

Constance and her father glanced tentatively at each other, and were silent. Gustavo, who had been hanging officiously in the rear, approached and begged their pardon.

'
Scusi
, signora, but I sink I can explain.
Ecco
! Ze telegram is dated from Limone--zat is a village close by here on ze ozzer side of ze lake. He is gone on a walking trip, ze yong man, of two--tree days wif an Englishman who is been in zis hotel. If he expect you so soon he would not go. But patience, he will come back. Oh, yes, in a little while, after one--two day he come back.'

'What is the man talking about?' Mrs. Eustace was both indignant and bewildered. 'Jerry was in Riva yesterday at the Hotel Sole d'Oro. How can he be on a walking trip at the other end of the lake to-day?'

'You don't suppose'--Nannie's voice was tragic--'that he has eloped with that American girl?'

'Good heavens, my dear!' Mrs. Eustace appealed to Mr. Wilder. 'What are the laws in this dreadful country? Don't banns or something have to be published three weeks before the ceremony can take place?'

Mr. Wilder rose hastily.

'Yes, yes, dear lady. It's impossible; don't consider any such catastrophe for a moment. Come, Constance, I really think we ought to be going.--Er, you see, Mrs. Eustace, you can't believe--that is, don't let anything Gustavo says trouble you. With all respect for his many fine qualities, he has not Jerry's regard for truth. And don't bother any more about the boy; he will turn up in a day or so. He may have written some letters of explanation that you haven't got. These foreign mails----' He edged toward the gate.

Constance followed him and then turned back.

'We're on our way to the jail,' she said, 'to visit our donkey-driver, who has managed to get himself arrested. While we're there we can make inquiries if you like; it's barely possible that they might have got hold of Jerry on some false charge or other. These foreign jails----'

'Constance!' said Nannie reproachfully.

'Oh, my dear, I was only joking; of course it's impossible. Good-bye.' She nodded and laughed and ran after her father.

CHAPTER XVIII

If one must go to jail at all one could scarcely choose a more entertaining jail than that of Valedolmo. It occupies a structure which was once a palace; and its cells, planned for other purposes, are spacious. But its most gratifying feature, to one forcibly removed from social intercourse, is its outlook. The windows command the Piazza Garibaldi, which is the social centre of the town; it contains the village post, the fountain, the tobacco shop, the washing-trough, and the two rival cafés, the 'Independenza' and the 'Libertà.' The piazza is always dirty and noisy--that goes without saying--but on Wednesday morning at nine o'clock, it is peculiarly dirty and noisy. Wednesday is Valedolmo's market day, and the square is so cluttered with booths and hucksters and anxious buyers, that the peaceable pedestrian can scarcely wedge his way through. The noise moreover is deafening; above the cries of vendors and buyers rises a shriller chorus of bleating kids and squealing pigs and braying donkeys.

Mr. Wilder, red in the face and short of temper, pushed through the crowd with little ceremony, prodding on the right with his umbrella, on the left with his fan, and using his elbows vigorously. Constance, serenely cool, followed in his wake, nodding here and there to a chance acquaintance, smiling on every one; the spectacle to her held always fresh interest. An image vendor close at her elbow insisted that she should buy a Madonna and Bambina for fifty centesimi, or at least a San Giuseppe for twenty-five. To her father's disgust she bought them both, and presented them to two wide-eyed children who in bashful fascination were dogging their footsteps.

The appearance of the foreigners in the piazza caused such a ripple of interest, that for a moment the bargaining was suspended. When the two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell, as many of the bystanders as the steps would accommodate mounted with them. Nobody answered the first ring, and Constance pulled again with a force which sent a jangle of bells echoing through the interior. After a second's wait--snortingly impatient on Mr. Wilder's part; he was being pressed close by the none too clean citizens of Valedolmo--the door was opened a very small crack by a frowsy jailoress. Her eye fell first upon the crowd, and she was disposed to close it again; but in the act she caught sight of the Signorina Americana dressed in white, smiling above a bouquet of oleanders. Her eyes widened with astonishment. It was long since such an apparition had presented itself at that door. She dropped a curtsy, and the crack widened.

'Your commands, signorina?'

'We, wish to come in.'

'But it is against the orders. Friday is visiting-day at thirteen o'clock. If the signorina had a
permesso
from the
sindaco
, why then----'

The signorina shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. She had no
permesso
and it was too much trouble to get one. Besides, the
sindaco's
office didn't open till ten o'clock. She glanced down; there was a shining two-franc piece in her hand. Perhaps the jailoress would allow them to step inside away from the crowd, and she would explain?