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23 chapters
Buccaneer Books NEW YORK Copyright © 1913 by The Bobbs-Merrill Company Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 78-66864
Buccaneer Books NEW YORK Copyright © 1913 by The Bobbs-Merrill Company Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 78-66864
CHAPTER I " Weep No More, My Lady " CHAPTER II Enter a Lovelorn Haberdasher CHAPTER III Blondes and Suffragettes CHAPTER IV A Professional Hermit Appears CHAPTER V The Mayor Casts a Shadow Before CHAPTER VI Ghosts of the Summer Crowd CHAPTER VII The Mayor Begins a Vigil CHAPTER VIII Mr. Max Tells a Tale of Suspicion CHAPTER IX Melodrama in the Snow CHAPTER X The Cold Gray Dawn CHAPTER XI A Falsehood Under the Palms CHAPTER XII Woe in Number Seven CHAPTER XIII The Exquisite Mr. Hayden CHAPTER XIV
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"WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY"
"WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY"
A young woman was crying bitterly in the waiting-room of the railway station at Upper Asquewan Falls, New York. A beautiful young woman? That is exactly what Billy Magee wanted to know as, closing the waiting-room door behind him, he stood staring just inside. Were the features against which that frail bit of cambric was agonizingly pressed of a pleasing contour? The girl's neatly tailored corduroy suit and her flippant but charming millinery augured well. Should he step gallantly forward and in
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ENTER A LOVELORN HABERDASHER
ENTER A LOVELORN HABERDASHER
Baldpate Inn did not stand tiptoe on the misty mountain-top. Instead it clung with grim determination to the side of Baldpate, about half-way up, much as a city man clings to the running board of an open street-car. This was the comparison Mr. Magee made, and even as he made it he knew that atmospheric conditions rendered it questionable. For an open street-car suggests summer and the ball park; Baldpate Inn, as it shouldered darkly into Mr. Magee's ken, suggested winter at its most wintry. Abou
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BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES
BLONDES AND SUFFRAGETTES
Mr. Magee slipped into his dressing gown, seized a candle, and like the boy in the nursery rhyme with one shoe off and one shoe on, ran into the hall. All was silent and dark below. He descended to the landing, and stood there, holding the candle high above his head. It threw a dim light as far as the bottom of the stairs, but quickly lost the battle with the shadows that lay beyond. "Hello," the voice of Bland, the haberdasher, came out of the blackness. "The Goddess of Liberty, as I live! What
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A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT APPEARS
A PROFESSIONAL HERMIT APPEARS
Every morning at eight, when slumber's chains had bound Mr. Magee in his New York apartments, he was awakened by a pompous valet named Geoffrey whom he shared with the other young men in the building. It was Geoffrey's custom to enter, raise the curtains, and speak of the weather in a voice vibrant with feeling, as of something he had prepared himself and was anxious to have Mr. Magee try. So, when a rattling noise came to his ear on his first morning at Baldpate Inn, Mr. Magee breathed sleepily
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THE MAYOR CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE
THE MAYOR CASTS A SHADOW BEFORE
"From tears to smiles," said Mr. Magee, taking the girl's hand. "What worked the transformation? Not the Commercial House, I know, for I passed it last evening." "No, hardly the Commercial House," laughed the girl. "Rather the sunshine of a winter morning, the brisk walk up the mountain, and the sight of the Hermit of Baldpate with eyes like saucers staring at a little girl who once bought his postal cards." "Then you know Mr. Peters?" inquired Magee. "Is that his name? You see, I never met him
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GHOSTS OF THE SUMMER CROWD
GHOSTS OF THE SUMMER CROWD
"I wonder," Miss Norton smiled up into Mr. Magee's face, "if you ever watched the people at a summer hotel get set on their mark for the sprint through the dining-room door?" "No," answered Magee, "but I have visited the Zoo at meal-time. They tell me it is much the same." "A brutal comparison," said the girl. "But just the same I'm sure that the head waiter who opens the door here at Baldpate must feel much the same at the moment as the keeper who proffers the raw meat on the end of the pitchfo
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THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL
THE MAYOR BEGINS A VIGIL
One summer evening, in dim dead days gone by, an inexperienced head waiter at Baldpate Inn had attempted to seat Mrs. J. Sanderson Clark, of Pittsburgh, at the same table with the unassuming Smiths, of Tiffin, Ohio. The remarks of Mrs. Clark, who was at the time busily engaged in trying to found a first family, lingered long in the memory of those who heard them. So long, in fact, that Miss Norton, standing with Mr. Magee in the hotel office awaiting the signal from Peters that dinner was ready,
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MR. MAX TELLS A TALE OF SUSPICION
MR. MAX TELLS A TALE OF SUSPICION
An hour passed. Mr. Max admitted when pressed that a good cigar soothed the soul, and accepted another from Magee's stock. The professor continued to talk. Obviously it was his favorite diversion. He seemed to be quoting from addresses; Mr. Magee pictured him on a Chautauqua platform, the white water pitcher by his side. As he talked, Mr. Magee studied that portion of his delicate scholarly face that the beard left exposed to the world. What part had Thaddeus Bolton, holder of the Crandall Chair
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MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW
MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW
The justly celebrated moon that in summer months shed so much glamour on the romances of Baldpate Inn was no where in evidence as Mr. Magee crept along the ground close to the veranda. The snow sifted down upon him out of the blackness above; three feet ahead the world seemed to end. "A corking night," he muttered humorously, "for my debut in the hold-up business." He swung up over the rail on to the veranda, and walked softly along it until he came to a window opening into the office. Cautiousl
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THE COLD GRAY DAWN
THE COLD GRAY DAWN
The gayest knight must have a morning after. Mr. Magee awakened to his to find suite seven wrapped again in its favorite polar atmosphere. Filling the door leading to the outer room, he beheld the cause of his awakening—the mayor of Reuton. Mr. Cargan regarded him with the cold steely eye of a Disraeli in action, but when he spoke he opened the jaws of a cocktail mixer. "Well, young fellow," he remarked, "it seems to me it was time you got up and faced the responsibilities of the day. First of w
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A FALSEHOOD UNDER THE PALMS
A FALSEHOOD UNDER THE PALMS
"Make me a willow cabin at your gate," quoted Mr. Magee, looking at the hermit's shack with interest. "U-m-m," replied Miss Norton. Thus beautiful sentiments frequently fare, even at the hands of the most beautiful. Mr. Magee abandoned his project of completing the speech. The door of the hermit's abode opened before Mr. Max's masterful knock, and the bearded little man appeared on the threshold. He was clad in a purple dressing-gown that suggested some woman had picked it. Surely no man could h
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WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN
WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN
Inside, before the office fire, Miss Thornhill read a magazine in the indolent fashion so much affected at Baldpate Inn during the heated term; while the mayor of Reuton chatted amiably with the ponderously coy Mrs. Norton. Into this circle burst the envoys to the hermitage, flushed, energetic, snowflaked. "Hail to the chef who in triumph advances!" cried Mr. Magee. He pointed to the door, through which Mr. Max was leading the captured Mr. Peters. "You got him, didyu?" rasped Mrs. Norton. "Witho
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THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN
THE EXQUISITE MR. HAYDEN
It was past three o'clock. The early twilight crept up the mountain, and the shadows began to lengthen in the great bare office of Baldpate Inn. In the red flicker of firelight Mr. Magee sat and pondered; the interval since luncheon had passed lazily; he was no nearer to guessing which of Baldpate Inn's winter guests hugged close the precious package. Exasperated, angry, he waited for he knew not what, restless all the while to act, but having not the glimmer of an inspiration as to what his cou
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THE SIGN OF THE OPEN WINDOW
THE SIGN OF THE OPEN WINDOW
Undecided, Mr. Magee looked toward the kitchen door, from behind which came the sound of men's voices. Then he smiled, turned and led Mr. Peters back into the office. The Hermit of Baldpate fairly trembled with news. "Since I broke in on you yesterday morning," he said in a low tone as he took a seat on the edge of a chair, "one thing has followed another so fast that I'm a little dazed. I can't just get the full meaning of it all." "You have nothing on me there, Peters," Magee answered. "I can'
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TABLE TALK
TABLE TALK
The seventh key! Mr. Magee thrilled at the mention of it. So Elijah Quimby knew the identity and the mission of the man who hid in the annex. Did any one else? Magee looked at the broad acreage of the mayor's face, at the ancient lemon of Max's, at Bland's, frightened and thoughtful, at Hayden's, concerned but smiling. Did any one else know? Ah, yes, of course. Down the stairs the professor of Comparative Literature felt his way to food. "Is dinner ready?" he asked, peering about. The candles fl
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A MAN FROM THE DARK
A MAN FROM THE DARK
For fully five seconds Mr. Magee and the man with whom he had collided stood facing each other on the balcony. The identical moon of the summer romances now hung in the sky, and in its white glare Baldpate Mountain glittered like a Christmas-card. Suddenly the wind broke a small branch from one of the near-by trees and tossed it lightly on the snow beside the two men—as though it were a signal for battle. "A lucky chance," said Mr. Magee. "You're a man I've been longing to meet. Especially since
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THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP
THE PROFESSOR SUMS UP
In Upper Asquewan Falls the clock on the old town hall struck nine. Mr. Magee, on guard in Baldpate's dreary office, counted the strokes. She must be half-way down the mountain now—perhaps at this very moment she heard Quimby's ancient gate creaking in the wind. He could almost see her as she tramped along through the snow, the lovely heroine of the most romantic walk of all romantic walks on Baldpate to date. Half-way to the waiting-room where she had wept so bitterly; half-way to the curious s
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A RED CARD
A RED CARD
Mr. Magee turned back from the window to the dim interior of the hotel office. He who had come to Baldpate Inn to court loneliness had never felt so lonely in his life. For he had lost sight of her—in the great Reuton station of his imagination she had slipped from his dreams—to go where he could not follow, even in thought. He felt as he knew this great bare room must feel each fall when the last laugh died away down the mountain, and the gloom of winter descended from drab skies. Selecting a l
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EXEUNT OMNES, AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT
EXEUNT OMNES, AS SHAKESPEARE HAS IT
At four in the morning Baldpate Inn, wrapped in the arms of winter, had all the rare gaiety and charm of a baseball bleechers on Christmas Eve. Looking gloomily out the window, Mr. Magee heard behind him the steps on the stairs and the low cautions of Quimby, and two men he had brought from the village, who were carrying something down to the dark carriage that waited outside. He did not look round. It was a picture he wished to avoid. So this was the end—the end of his two and a half days of so
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THE ADMIRAL'S GAME
THE ADMIRAL'S GAME
The village of Upper Asquewan Falls gave a correct imitation of snow upon the desert's dusty face, and was no more. Bidding a reluctant good-by to up-state romance, Mr. Magee entered the solitary day coach which, with a smoker, made up the local to Reuton. He spent a few moments adjusting Mrs. Norton to her new environment, and listened to her voluble expressions of joy in the fact that her boarding-house loomed ahead. Then he started for the smoker. On his way he paused at the seat occupied by
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THE MAYOR IS WELCOMED HOME
THE MAYOR IS WELCOMED HOME
It was a good story—the story which the mayor, Max, the professor and Magee read with varying emotions there in the smoking-car. The girl had served her employers well, and Mr. Magee, as he read, felt a thrill of pride in her. Evidently the employers had felt that same thrill. For in the captions under the pictures, in the head-lines, and in a first-page editorial, none of which the girl had written, the Star spoke admiringly of its woman reporter who had done a man's work—who had gone to Baldpa
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THE USUAL THING
THE USUAL THING
"Hello, Mr. Hold-up Man!" The girl seized Mr. Magee's proffered hand and leaped down from the truck to his side. "Bless the gods of the mountain," said Magee; "they have given me back my accomplice, safe and sound." "They were black lonesome gods," she replied, "and they kept whispering fearful things in my ear I couldn't understand. I'm glad they didn't keep me." "So am I." The crowd surged about them; many in it smiled and spoke admiringly to the girl. "It's great to be acquainted with the her
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