Ramshackle House. Footner Hulbert

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СКАЧАТЬ was not at all abashed. “My paper was the only one got the tip last night, and I’ve got to get my story over the phone in time for the evening edition. You have a phone here I see. The wires were the first things I looked for. It’ll be a rare scoop. There’ll be a mob down later.”

      Pen shivered inwardly and looked down. She was much confused, things were so different from what one imagined. Only last night she had said to herself: “If I could get hold of the men who write for newspapers I’d make them be fair to Don.” (She already called him Don in her thoughts.) Well, here was her chance, but the brash young Danner antagonized her so she could scarcely be civil to him. She struggled with her feelings.

      “You’ll have to excuse me. I don’t consider that the public has any interest in me…or any right to intrude upon my privacy! I hate to read that sort of story in the newspapers… But of course that’s not your fault… I’m willing to answer any proper questions, but I must not be quoted. There must be no descriptions of me or of my home!”

      The young man’s face fell. “But I’ve got to tell my story,” he protested. “It’ll be the scoop of the year. If I don’t tell all about you the others will. I can appreciate your feelings, but the others are hard-boiled guys I assure you. But you’ll like what I write about you when you see it. Everybody does.”

      Pen smiled wryly. “I don’t know… You’ll have breakfast with us?”

      “Oh no!” he said.

      “You must. There’s no place else for you to go. And you’ve been up all night.”

      He saw that she did not like him, and he appreciated her invincible hospitality. “Say, I wish I wasn’t here on a story!” he said impulsively.

      “So do I,” said Pen. “I must ask you to wait here until I get things started in the house.”

      “But my story?”

      “I’ll be back shortly.”

      Pen went in and put away the things in her basket with a heavy heart. No chance now of seeing Don until night. All day he would be watching for her. In the course of time Aunt Maria turned up and breakfast was set in train.

      The “interview” that followed was hardly a success. So few of Danner’s questions came under the head of what Pen called “proper” questions. And the way he kept sizing her up out of the corners of his eyes made her stiffer and stiffer. She wished not to be stiff; she wished to win Danner to Don’s side. But she soon discovered that it was hopeless; that the young reporter’s sole business was to cater to the public taste. The sly look that appeared in Danner’s eyes when she casually expressed a doubt of Don’s guilt soon put her off that line. Meanwhile she was suffering horribly at the thought of having their poverty exposed in the newspapers. Obviously Banner missed nothing; the rotting porch, the patched screens, that ridiculous barricade around her sprouting dahlias.

      Pendleton Broome presently came downstairs and Danner got along much better with him. The reporter knew just how to set up the little man in his own esteem. Pendleton admired the newspapers and his greatest pleasure was to see his name in print. So far he had only won to the correspondence columns. Pendleton encouraged, adopted a throaty voice and a magisterial air that caused poor Pen to squirm afresh, thinking of the fun the clever young man could have with her father.

      During breakfast Pen was obliged to hear the story of the previous day’s happenings told and retold with much irrelevant detail. Danner exerted himself to please her; he was not a bad sort of fellow; but Pen thinking of the other breakfasting on cold victuals and water, resented every swallow of hot coffee that he took.

      “When I first read the story in the paper,” thus Pendleton, “the fellow was still in the house. He was talking to my daughter in the drawing-room—a very gentlemanly, attractive sort of fellow you understand…”

      “So I understand,” said Danner, glancing sidelong at Pen.

      “But there was something in his eye…!”

      Pen could not stand for this. “Why, father,” she protested with as good-natured and offhand a smile as she could muster, “be fair! You never discovered that ‘something’ until you read the paper.”

      “You are wrong, my dear. From the first I was aware of a curious prejudice against him. But of course I could not let it show while he was our guest.”

      Pen smiling at whatever cost, let it go.

      “Where was I?” asked Pendleton.

      Danner prompted: “He was in the drawing-room.”

      “Oh yes! For the moment I was at a loss. Frightfully awkward situation. By the time I had resolved on a course of action he had left the house without bidding me good-night!”

      “Without bidding you good-night!” echoed Danner.

      “Without bidding me good-night!”

      Danner turned to Pen. “Why do you suppose he didn’t say good-night to your father?”

      “I don’t know,” said Pen carelessly. “I suppose he forgot.”

      “Perhaps he had a glimpse of the newspaper?”

      “He couldn’t see my father from where he was.”

      “Did he seem agitated?”

      “Not in the least.”

      “What did you do then?” Danner asked Pendleton.

      “My first plan was to get the lighthouse keeper to help me apprehend the fellow. But as I was setting out from the house my daughter had a sudden attack…”

      Danner had the grace not to look at Pen, but she was aware of his sharp spring to attention.

      “And as I was obliged to go to the Island for the doctor I decided to let him help me. But when we got back the fellow had struck his tent and pushed off.”

      “That taken in connection with his failure to bid you good-night…” suggested Danner.

      “Exactly!” said Pendleton.

      Pen felt she would scream if she were obliged to listen to any more of this. Making believe to discover an errand in the kitchen, she left the room.

      When she came back Danner asked with hypocritical solicitude: “Are you quite well again this morning?”

      “Perfectly,” said Pen.

      Useless to expect anything from Danner. Though he was clearly sensible to Pen’s charm, the story was everything to him, and his nostrils were quivering now on the scent of a story much more dramatic than he had expected.

      Pendleton went on: “Doctor Hance is coming back in a motor-boat this morning, and we will search the bay shore.… We have an idea of the direction he took,” he added mysteriously.

      “Wish you luck,” said Danner. “We had a message from New York last night that a reward of five thousand dollars had been offered for Counsell’s capture.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ