The Green Mouse
"It would seem," he said laughingly, "as though we were doomed to meet
each other, anyway. It looks like a case of Destiny to me."
She started slightly: "What did you say?"
"I said that it looks as though Fate intended us to meet, anyhow. Don't
you think so?"
She remained silent.
He added cheerfully: "I never was afraid of Fate."
"Would you care for a--a book--or anything?" she asked, aware of a new
constraint in her voice.
"I don't believe I could see to read in here.... Are you--going?"
"I--ought to." Vexed at the feeble senselessness of her reply she found
herself walking down the landing, toward nowhere in particular. She
turned abruptly and came back.
"Do you want a book?" she repeated.
"Oh, I forgot that you can't see to read. But perhaps you might care to
smoke."
"Are you going away?"
"I--don't mind your smoking."
He lighted a cigarette; she looked at him irresolutely.
"You mustn't think of remaining," he said. Whereupon she seated herself.
"I suppose I ought to try to amuse you--till Ferdinand returns with a
plumber," she said.
He protested: "I couldn't think of asking so much from you."
"Anyway, it's my duty," she insisted. "I ought."
"Why?"
"Because you are under my roof--a guest."
"Please don't think----"
"But I really don't mind! If there is anything I can do to make your
imprisonment easier----"
"It is easy. I rather like being here."
"It is very amiable of you to say so."
"I really mean it."
"How can you _really_ mean it?"
"I don't know, but I do." In their earnestness they had come close to the
bars; she stood with both hands resting on the grille, looking in; he in
a similar position, looking out.
He said: "I feel like an occupant of the Bronx, and it rather astonishes
me that you haven't thrown me in a few peanuts."
She laughed, fetched her box of chocolates, then began seriously: "If
Ferdinand doesn't find anybody I'm afraid you might be obliged to remain
to dinner."
"That prospect," he said, "is not unpleasant. You know when one becomes
accustomed to one's cage it's rather a bore to be let out."
They sampled the chocolates, she sitting close to the cage, and as the
box would not go through the bars she was obliged to hand them to him,
one by one.
"I wonder," she mused, "how soon Ferdinand will find a plumber?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
She bent her adorable head, chose a chocolate and offered it to him.
"Are you not terribly impatient?" she inquired.
"Not--terribly."
Their glances encountered and she said hurriedly:
"I am sure you must be perfectly furious with everybody in this house.
I--I think it is most amiable of you to behave so cheerfully about it."
"As a matter of fact," he said, "I'm feeling about as cheerful as I ever
felt in my life."
"Cooped up in a cage?"
"Exactly."
"Which may fall at any--" The idea was a new one to them both. She leaned
forward in sudden consternation. "I never thought of that!" she
exclaimed. "You don't think there's any chance of its falling, do you?"
He looked at the startled, gray eyes so earnestly fixed on his. The sweet
mouth quivered a little--just a little--or he thought it did.
"No," he replied, with a slight catch in his voice, "I don't believe it's
going to fall."
"Perhaps you had better not move around very much in it. Be careful, I
beg of you. You will, won't you, Mr. Vanderdynk?"
"Please don't let it bother you," he said, stepping toward her
impulsively.
"Oh, don't, don't move!" she exclaimed. "You really must keep perfectly
still. Won't you promise me you will keep perfectly still?"
"I'll promise you anything," he said a little wildly.
Neither seemed to notice that he had overdone it.
She drew her chair as close as it would go to the grille and leaned
against it.
"You _will_ keep up your courage, won't you?" she asked anxiously.
"Certainly. By the way, how far is it to the b-basement?"
She turned quite white for an instant, then:
"I think I'd better go and ring up the police."
"No! A thousand times no! I couldn't stand that."
"But the car might--drop before----"
"Better decently dead than publicly paragraphed.... I haven't the least
idea that this thing is going to drop.... Anyway, it's worth it," he
added, rather vaguely.
"Worth--what?" she asked, looking into his rather winning, brown eyes.
"Being here," he said, looking into her engaging gray ones.
After a startling silence she said calmly: "Will you promise me not to
move or shake the car till I return?"
"You won't be very long, will you?"
"Not--very," she replied faintly.
She walked into the library, halted in the center of the room, hands
clasped behind her. Her heart was beating like a trip hammer.
"I might as well face it," she said to herself; "he is--by far--the most
thoroughly attractive man I have ever seen.... I--I _don't_ know what's
the matter," she added piteously.... "if it's that machine William made I
can't help it; I don't care any longer; I wish----"
A sharp crack from the landing sent her out there in a hurry, pale and
frightened.
"Something snapped somewhere," explained the young man with forced
carelessness, "some unimportant splinter gave way and the thing slid down
an inch or two."
"D-do you think----"
"No, I don't. But it's perfectly fine of you to care."
"C-care? I'm a little frightened, of course.... Anybody would be.... Oh,
I wish you were out and p-perfectly safe." "If I thought you could ever
really care what became of a man like me----"
Killian Van K. Vanderdynk's aristocratic senses began gyrating; he
grasped the bars, the back of his hand brushed against hers, and the
momentary contact sent a shock straight through the scion of that
celebrated race.
She seated herself abruptly; a delicate color grew, staining her face.
Neither spoke. A long, luminous sunbeam fell across the landing, touching
the edge of her hair till it glimmered like bronze afire. The sensitive
mouth was quiet, the eyes, very serious, were lifted from time to time,
then lowered, thoughtfully, to the clasped fingers on her knee.
Could it be possible? How could it be possible?--with a man she had never
before chanced to meet--with a man she had seen for the first time in her
life only an hour or so ago! Such things didn't happen outside of short
stories. There was neither logic nor common decency in it. Had she or had
she not any ordinary sense remaining?
She raised her eyes and looked at the heir of the Vanderdynks.
Of course anybody could see he was unusually attractive--that he had that
indefinable something about him which is seldom, if ever, seen outside of
fiction or of Mr. Gibson's drawings--perhaps it is entirely confined to
them--except in this one very rare case.
Sacharissa's eyes fell.
Another unusual circumstance was engaging her attention, namely, that his
rather remarkable physical perfection appeared to be matched by a
breeding quite as faultless, and a sublimity of courage in the face of
destruction itself, which----
Sacharissa lifted her gray eyes.
There he stood, suspended over an abyss, smoking a cigarette, bravely
forcing himself to an attitude of serene insouciance, while the basement
yawned for him! Machine or no machine, how could any girl look upon such
miraculous self-control unmoved? _She_ could not. It was natural that a
woman should be deeply thrilled by such a spectacle--and William Destyn's
machine had nothing to do with it--not a thing! Neither had psychology,
nor demonology, nor anything, with wires or wireless. She liked him,
frankly. Who wouldn't? She feared for him, desperately. Who wouldn't?
She----
"C-r-rack!"
"Oh--_what_ is it!" she cried, springing to the grille.
"I don't know," he said, somewhat pale. "The old thing seems--to be
sliding."
"Giving way!"
"A--little--I think----"
"Mr. Vanderdynk! I _must_ call the police----"
"Cr-rackle--crack-k-k!" went the car, dropping an inch or two.
With a stifled cry she caught his hands through the bars, as though to
hold him by main strength.
"Are you crazy?" he said fiercely, thrusting them away. "Be careful! If
the thing drops you'll break your arms!"
"I--I don't care!" she said breathlessly. "I can't let----"
"Crack!" But the car stuck again.
"I _will_ call the police!" she cried.
"The papers may make fun of _you_."
"Was it for _me_ you were afraid? Oh, Mr. Vanderdynk! What do I care for
ridicule compared to--to----"
The car had sunk so far in the shaft now that she had to kneel and put
her head close to the floor to see him.
"I will only be a minute at the telephone," she said. "Keep up courage; I
am thinking of you every moment."
"W-will you let me say one word?" he stammered.
"Oh, what? Be quick, I beg you."
"It's only goodbye--in case the thing drops. May I say it?"
"Y-yes--yes! But say it quickly."
"And if it doesn't drop after all, you won't be angry at what I'm going
to say?"
"N-no. Oh, for Heaven's sake, hurry!"
"Then--you are the sweetest woman in the world!... Goodbye--Sacharissa--
dear."
She sprang up, dazed, and at the same moment a terrific crackling and
splintering resounded from the shaft, and the car sank out of sight.
Faint, she swayed for a second against the balustrade, then turned and
ran downstairs, ears strained for the sickening crash from below.
There was no crash, no thud. As she reached the drawing-room landing, to
her amazement a normally-lighted elevator slid slowly down, came to a
stop, and the automatic grilles opened quietly.
As Killian Van K. Vanderdynk crept forth from the elevator, Sacharissa's
nerves gave way; his, also, seemed to disintegrate; and they stood for
some moments mutually supporting each other, during which interval
unaccustomed tears fell from the gray eyes, and unaccustomed words,
breathed brokenly, reassured her; and, altogether unaccustomed to such
things, they presently found themselves seated in a distant corner of the
drawing-room, still endeavoring to reassure each other with interclasped
hands.
They said nothing so persistently that the wordless minutes throbbed into
hours; through the windows the red west sent a glowing tentacle into the
room, searching the gloom for them.
It fell, warm, across her upturned throat, in the half light.
For her head lay back on his shoulder; his head was bent down, lips
pressed to the white hands crushed fragrantly between his own.
A star came out and looked at them with astonishment; in a little while
the sky was thronged with little stars, all looking through the window at
them.
Her maid knocked, backed out hastily and fled, distracted. Then Ferdinand
arrived with a plumber.
Later the butler came. They did not notice him until he ventured to cough
and announce dinner.
The interruptions were very annoying, particularly when she was summoned
to the telephone to speak to her father.
"What is it, dad?" she asked impatiently.
"Are you all right?"
"Oh, yes," she answered, carelessly; "we are all right, dad. Goodbye."
"We? Who the devil is 'We'?"
"Mr. Vanderdynk and I. We're taking my maid and coming down to Tuxedo
this evening together. I'm in a hurry now."
"What!!!"
"Oh, it's all right, dad. Here, Killian, please explain things to my
father."
Vanderdynk released her hand and picked up the receiver as though it had
been a live wire.
"Is that you, Mr. Carr?" he began--stopped short, and stood listening,
rigid, bewildered, turning redder and redder as her father's fluency
increased. Then, without a word, he hooked up the receiver.
"Is it all right?" she asked calmly. "Was dad--vivacious?"
The young man said: "I'd rather go back into that elevator than go to