A Fool There Was Part 11

Schuyler came hurrying down the deck, Blake and Parks close behind.

There was on his face the smile of great gladness. He placed one strong arm about his wife, the other about his child.

"I've some bully news for you, Kate, dear! The President has so arranged that I can complete my work and get back to you in less than a month.

Isn't that splendid? Just one little month and I'll be back again with you and baby."

The child raised her head in protest.

"But I'm not a baby, now. I'm six years old. Mother has to pay full fare for me on the cars. Don't you, mother?"

Schuyler picked her up from the deck, tossing her in the air.

"No matter what you may be to conductors, you'll always be baby to daddy, you little darling," he said, brightly. Then, turning to Blake, with lightness born of great earnestness:

"Take good care of them while I'm gone, won't you, old man. By Jove, I'd like to chuck it all, even at the last minute as it is, and stay at home--"

Facing his wife, child and friend, his eyes were up the broad deck. Came toward him The Woman--The Woman known of The Man Who Knew, and of Young Parmalee. Schuyler's voice died in his throat. Her eyes were upon him.

His eyes were upon her. She made no movement. She paused not in her indolent, sinuous walk. Her eyes were upon him; and that was all--dark eyes, glowing, inscrutable, beautiful with the beauty that was hers. And his eyes were on hers.... She turned up the narrow pa.s.sageway in which lay Schuyler's stateroom.... Blake saw, too. He was not of those who live in the froth of things--that froth of things that is the sc.u.m. But he was of the world; and they who are of the world have knowledge of all that that world contains--of all, that is, that it is for such as they to know.

Kathryn looked up, at length, anxiously. Schuyler was never abstracted.

She prompted:

"You were saying, Jack, dear--"

Schuyler drew his hand, palm out, across his forehead.

"Why--oh, yes," he floundered, trying to marshal his scattered thoughts.

"I was saying--" He appealed to Blake, half-helplessly, half-whimsically.

"By Jove, that's strange. What was I saying, Tom?"

Blake replied, shortly:

"You were asking me to take good care of them."

Schuyler nodded.

"Oh, yes," he a.s.sented. And then; "I don't understand. I--but you will take good care of them, won't you, old man? They're all I have; and more, they're all I want. Guard them, Tom, for me as though they were your own."

Waiting to take farewell of those one loves is indeed a sweetness tinged with bitterness. And if one loves very, very much, it is sometimes a bitterness tinged with sweetness. Kathryn, lower lip clenched between white teeth, herself unhappy would have kept that unhappiness as far as possible hers alone. There were those on board that she knew. To them she went; for there was still, since time was short, too much of it. Muriel she took with her.

Schuyler, in his eyes all the virile love that such as he feel for theirs, watched her vanish amid the throngs. Then, sauntering to the rail, leaned against it.... There came into his eyes a look of abstraction, of aberration, of puzzlement. Blake stood watching him-- stood for a long time, silent, unmoving.... At length he moved to Schuyler's side.

"Old man," he said, very slowly, very quietly, very earnestly; "old man, what's up?"

Schuyler turned, quickly

"What's up?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

Blake said, still slowly:

"There's something happened to you."

"Happened," cried Schuyler. "Something happened?" He laughed. "What could have happened?"

"d.a.m.ned if I know. But something has. I've got a hunch."

Schuyler answered, lightly:

"Well, you'd better take it to a doctor and have it diagnosed." He half turned. "It's only my natural nervousness at leaving Kathryn and Muriel-- and the importance of my mission. By the way," he asked, abruptly, "what was that crowd doing on the dock as I came up?"

Blake, selecting a cigarette, lighted it.

"Suicide," he said, curtly.

Schuyler started.

"You say it mighty cold-bloodedly," he a.s.serted. "Where did it happen?"

"Here, I believe. Almost where we are standing."

"Good G.o.d! Who was it?"

"Young chap, named Parmalee."

"What? The boy who's been in the papers so much lately--who disgraced himself, and his people, for a woman?"

Blake nodded, and continued:

"Did you happen to notice the woman who pa.s.sed a moment ago?--the one carrying the red roses?"

Schuyler bent his head.

"I noticed her," he replied, slowly. "What of her?"

"The woman."

"You don't mean Parmalee--?"

"Yes, I do."

"Because his love was not returned?"

"Because," replied Blake, smiling mirthlessly "it _was_ returned....

Did you ever read that! thing of Kipling's, _The Vampire_?"

"Why, yes, of course," returned Schuyler. "Almost everyone's read that."