Coming Through the Rye (24 page)

“Oh, I can't talk to him tonight!” she cried. “I simply
can't!
He's a terrible man! I wish I didn't have to see him ever! I can't bear the way he looks at me!”

“Well, you don't have to!” declared the woman. “Just you go up the stairs quick and get to bed! I'll teach him to hang up on me that way!
I'll
go down and see him!”

“He'll only put it off until tomorrow,” wailed Romayne, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, I wish I could run away! It seems as though I couldn't stand anymore!”

The nurse's answer was to lift the girl gently from her chair and lead her toward the stairs.

“There, child!” she said. “I'll help you to run away if you want to.”

The nurse's lips were set in a grim line.

“We might lock the door and turn out the lights,” suggested Romayne wearily.

“But that would be all to do over again, as you say,” answered the nurse. “You leave him to me!”

“He said it was about my brother,” said the troubled voice hesitatingly. “He won't tell it to you.”

“Do you
want
to talk to him?” asked the nurse sharply. “Do you think you
have
to?”

“I don't know,” said Romayne with a frightened tone in her voice.

“Well, then, I'll tell him you said he was to say his say to me! If he don't want to, he can keep it to himself. But I want you to know that whatever he says will go no farther. And when I tell it to you, that's the end of it. I
forget
. It's my business to forget what people say that's none of my business, so you needn't be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid,” said the worn-out child. “And I'm very grateful to you!”

The nurse answered by a little pat on her hand, a sign of deep emotion for Nurse Bronson, who was nothing if not adamant.

Romayne was soon in bed with the light out, and the nurse took care there should be only a dim light down in the hall when the caller arrived.

Grimly, in an old red cotton crêpe bathrobe and night slippers, with her hair in crimping pins—which, by the way, were an addition for the occasion—Nurse Bronson never was known to crimp her hair—she descended the stairs with a thump on each step.

Grudgingly she opened the door an inch or two and told the visitor that Miss Ransom was gone to bed.

“Well, just tell her I'm here. She'll get up,” he announced. “She wants to see me.”

“No, she doesn't want to see anybody tonight!” said the nurse firmly. “And she won't get up if she does, for I'm her nurse, and I'm here to take care of her. She's all beat out, and she'll have a fit of sickness if she don't get some sleep.”

“Sorry, but this is important. It's about her brother. She'll want to know. He's in trouble.”

“I guess that's no news to her,” said the nurse sarcastically. “If all I hear's true, he's been there a good many times. He'll probably live through it.”

“Look here, my good woman,” said the arrogant Krupper, inserting a fashionable toe inside the door. “You don't know what you're talking about. This is serious business—a matter of life and death, as it were—and Miss Ransom has got to know this tonight.”

“Very well, you'll have to send a message by me then,” said Nurse Bronson. “I'll see if she's awake yet.”

By this time young Krupper had inserted the most of himself into the hall.

“That's quite impossible!” said the young man. “This is private business.”

“There's nothing too private to tell me if you want her to hear it tonight. She said I was to tell you you could say anything you liked to me. She doesn't have secrets from me.”

“My dear lady, as I said before, you don't know what you are talking about!” said Kearney condescendingly, perceiving he could not sweep this stout lady aside quite so easily as he had expected. “I will write her a note, and when she finds out what I have to say, you will see she will get up and come downstairs.”

“Write yer note,” said Nurse Bronson, waving toward the desk in the office.

Kearney got out a fountain pen and wrote forcefully a few lines. The nurse took the folded paper in a contemptuous thumb and finger and went plunk, plunk, on her expressive rubber heels upstairs.

She opened a door—it happened to be the door of Mr. Ransom's room—closed it softly, snapped on the light, and read the note without guilt. Nurses learn to take responsibilities sometimes when the life of a patient is at stake. She had no respect whatever for the young man downstairs. He was of a class whom she despised.

The note was blunt and written in a bold scrawl:

“H'm!” sniffed the nurse, folding the paper thoughtfully and putting it into her pocket. Then she opened the door noiselessly, went with her silent sickroom tread to Romayne's room, and, entering, closed the door before she spoke in a whisper: “Do you want me to follow my own idea in dealing with this young man?”

“Oh yes,” said Romayne, shrinking from the thought of him. “I don't like him.”

“Well then, answer me this. Have you got much money? Because I need to know.”

“Oh no,” said Romayne anxiously. “I've got less than five hundred dollars, and I owe a good deal more than that for the funeral and everything—”

“That's all right,” said the nurse. “Of course you do. Now, is there any reason why you should have to give money to that scapegrace of a brother of yours?”

“Oh, I don't know.…” said Romayne, bursting into tears. “I—”

“That's all right, too,” said the nurse. “Let me give you a piece of advice. If you ever
do
have to,
don't
give it through that weak-chinned little monkey downstairs, because I don't believe your brother would ever get it! Now lie down, and I'll settle this. When I get rid of him, I'll come up and tell you what I mean.”

So the nurse swept rubberly down the stairs again with triumph in her wake.

“She says she hasn't any money,” repeated the nurse arrogantly.

The young man arose and tried to make himself tall and important.

“My good woman, I happen to know that she has five hundred dollars! Her brother told me so, and he wants it at once! In fact he
must have it!
”

“It cost more than that five hundred dollars to pay expenses here,” said the nurse. “That's all spent! She hasn't got a cent for herself. A pretty pair you two are, coming to a
girl
for money! Let him get his own money! She hasn't any!”

“My good woman, you don't understand,” drawled Kearney as if he were being the most patient of mortals. “This is a peculiar situation. Miss Ransom understands, and if she knew the critical need tonight, she would get the money at once without further delay. Every moment is dangerous for one she loves.”

“I tell you she hasn't got any money! How can she get what she hasn't got?”

“Miss Ransom knows that she has friends who will give her any amount she needs if she lets them know by telegraph how much she wants. She has only to mention that she is aware her brother has evidence against them, and she will have no trouble—”

“Look here, young man! That sounds like blackmail!”

“That shows how little you understand,” he said sadly. “You see, it is imperative that I see Miss Ransom herself! If you don't call her down, I shall be obliged to go upstairs and find her.”

He started toward the stairs, but the nurse placed herself in front of him.

“Just you set down,” she said firmly. “I've got to telephone for some medicine Miss Ransom needs. I forgot it, and I'll be too late.…” She stepped to the desk and took up the telephone, calling up a number.

The young man paused, watching her annoyedly. He was in haste to see Romayne. He meditated a bold dash up the stairs while the nurse was occupied, but was held listening to her message.

“Chris there? Well, why don't he bring that medicine? Yes, we need it right away. Miss Ransom ain't feeling so good, and she's got a visitor. Can you hurry it right up? All right.”

She clicked the telephone in place and glanced at the young man.

“I was just coming down to get a hot-water bag,” she said. “I suppose you won't mind waiting a little.…”

She whisked into the dining room door but did not go far beyond the door, with an ear alert to the hall, and she whisked back again in a jiffy.

“Just set down and wait, if you must.” She waved her hand toward a chair again. “I'll see what I can do.”

And Nurse Bronson made a sound of bustling about above stairs.

In about three minutes' time a hoarse little Ford drew up in front of the door, somebody flung out and up the steps, and a key clicked in the lock, startling the caller into sudden alert attention. He half arose, with a furtive look about him, as the door swung open, and Chris Hollister's broad shoulders and round ruddy face appeared in full uniform, a heavy frown upon his straight young brows.

To say that he glared at the young man who stood in the office is putting it mildly. He seemed to be piercing the intruder through and through with his gaze. Justice fairly could possibly call him a boy. Manliness spoke in every line of his sturdy figure.

They glared at each other for a full second. Then Chris opened the argument in a voice of authority.

“You—are waiting for—somebody?”

There was deliberation in each syllable.

The caller bowed haughtily.

“I am waiting for Miss Ransom. She will be down presently.
You?
” There was a nasty snarl in the word, a kind of upward inflection that was intended for a reflection upon the other. “You—seem to be rather—at
home
here!” There was insult flung with the final word.

“Yes,” said Chris gravely. “This house is under my protection.”

“Oh, I
see
! And all its inhabitants, I suppose!”

Chris paid no attention to the sneering laugh. He strode over to the dining room door, where he could see a light from the kitchen beyond. He paused with the door half-open, still keeping the front part of the house in view, and held a brief and inaudible conversation with the nurse, who stood within the shadow.

“I see!” said Chris at length in a clear voice. “All right, Mrs. Bronson. Your word is law here!”

Then he swung the dining room door shut and strode back to the waiting visitor.

“I am told that Miss Ransom has retired and that she cannot see you tonight. She has, I believe, sent you an answer to your message, and the nurse wishes me to say to you that her answer is final. She cannot possibly accept your suggestions!”

Anger rolled hot in the face of Kearney Krupper.

“Oh!” he jeered. “So
you
have a date with her, have you? Well, two can play at that game, and my turn comes first. I'm not taking any secondhand messages from a kid like you just out of high school. Miss Ransom understands the importance of my message, and if she knew I was down here, she would come down at once. I don't believe that wall-eyed woman took my message at all. I want Miss Ransom called down at once, or I'm going up! It's absolutely necessary to Miss Ransom's happiness that she know what I have to tell her, and if you don't know enough to send for her at once, I'll go and get some
real
police officers and have you chucked from your fancy job before you know where you're at! I know you! You're only one of those fool League men. You haven't any real authority!”

Then down the stairway came a clear voice from above.

“Chris, please tell Mr. Krupper that I have entire confidence in you, and that he may say whatever is necessary to you. I shall not come down tonight. As for extracting money by threats from any of the people who have caused my father's downfall, I would rather my brother and I both spent the rest of our lives in prison than touch a cent of such money!”

Then swift steps went into a room, and the door was shut and noticeably locked with a decided click.

There was a moment's startled hush in the hall below, while the two men faced each other, and the dining room door swung slowly open, revealing Nurse Bronson in her red bathrobe and crimping pins, a light of grim triumph in her eyes.

A wave of pride rolled into Chris's face, a great light of restored self-respect in his eye. And a new dignity fell upon him like a garment.

By those few words Romayne had lifted a cloud from his honest heart and taken away the blight she had put upon him the night of her father's arrest. She had, as it were, in the presence of witnesses, handed him a crown of honor. He was her trusted friend again! It was more than he had ever hoped to have, and he accepted it humbly and joyfully.

The face of Kearney was dark with wrath, and in his eyes gleamed something like fear. It was as if Romayne's clear voice had cut through the secrecy with which he had sought to veil his errand and thrown all open for the enemy to see. He cast about for a way out of his dilemma and smothered his anger in a semblance of condescension.

“Miss Ransom little knows what she has done,” he said haughtily. “I am here to represent the son of this house—”

Chris interrupted him coldly.

“The son of this house is in prison—or ought to be! It is his own rascality that has put him there and left his sister unprotected to face the rottenest situation a girl ever was in. I am here to represent the daughter of this house, who has had enough to bear today without anything else that you have to say. If you wish to discuss this matter any further, we will go down to my office and do so. My car is waiting outside—”

“I have not wish to discuss anything—
with you!
” he said contemptuously. “There are important things this girl ought to know, and she will be sorry if she lets them go.…” Here he raised his voice louder and looked up the stairs. “But if she refuses to talk with me, she'll have to take the consequences. I see you have it all framed up to suit your own devices, and I suppose you expect to profit thereby, but the time will come”—here his voice was still louder—“when she will bitterly regret that she turned away her only brother's confidential friend and put her trust in
traitors
!”