Willy Cameron glanced at his watch. He had discounted
the worst before it came, and unlike the older man,
was ready for action. It was he who took hold
of the situation.
“Order a car, Mr. Cardew, and go to the hotels,”
he said. “And if you will drop me downtown—I’ll
tell you where—I’ll follow up something
that has just occurred to me.”
In one way Howard had been correct in his surmise.
It had been Lily’s idea to go to a hotel until
she had made some definite plan. She would telephone
Louis then, and the rest—she did not think
beyond that. She called a taxi and took a small
bag with her, but in the taxicab she suddenly realized
that she could not go to any of the hotels she knew.
She would be recognized at once.
She wanted a little time to herself, time to think.
And before it was discovered that she had left Cardew
Way she must see Louis, and judge again if he intended
to act in good faith. While he was with her,
reiterating his promises, she believed him, but when
he was gone, she always felt, a curious doubt.
She thought then of finding a quiet room somewhere,
and stopping the cab, bought a newspaper. It
was when she was searching for the “rooms for
rent” column that she saw he had been attacked
and slightly injured.
They had got him. He had said that if they ever
suspected him of playing them false they would get
him, and now they had done so. That removed the
last doubt of his good faith from her mind. She
felt indignation and dismay, and a sort of aching consciousness
that always she brought only trouble to the people
who cared for her; she felt that she was going through
her life, leaving only unhappiness behind her.
He had suffered, and for her.
She told the chauffeur to go to the Benedict Apartments,
and sitting back read the notice again. He had
been attacked by two masked men and badly bruised,
after putting up a terrific resistance. They
would wear masks, of course. They loved the theatrical.
Their very flag was theatrical. And he had
made a hard fight That was like him, too; he was a
fighter.
She was a Cardew, and she loved strength. There
were other men, men like Willy Cameron, for instance,
who were lovable in many ways, but they were not fighters.
They sat back, and let life beat them, and they took
the hurt bravely and stoically. But they never
got life by the throat and shook it until it gave
up what they wanted.
She had never been in a bachelors’ apartment
house before, and she was both frightened and self-conscious.
The girl at the desk eyed her curiously while she
telephoned her message, and watched her as she moved
toward the elevator. “Ever seen her before?”
she said to the hall boy.
“No. She’s a new one.”
“Face’s kind of familiar to me,”
said the telephone girl, reflectively. “Looks
worried, doesn’t she? Two masked men!
Huh! All Sam took up there last night was a
thin fellow with a limp.”
