The Whip Hand - A Tale of the Pine Country by Samuel Merwin

Author:Samuel Merwin [Merwin, Samuel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anboco
Published: 2017-02-02T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI—High Life at the Le Ducs

When at last they were on the cable-car, north bound, Craig broke the silence that had held through the latter half of the journey.

“Do you suppose we could get them all together to-night—the boy, and the girl and her husband? We could have a supper somewhere.”

“I think so. It will be a little late before I can get George back from Evanston—half-past eight or nine o’clock, probably.”

The Captain winced at the words. He knew now that George was a charity boy in the home of his own father.

“If you would like to set it for half-past eight, I will see Le Duc and then go out for George.” The Captain, whose head was in no condition for planning even so much as a supper, accepted this arrangement without a word. They were silent again until they left the car.

“I wonder if she’ll know me,” Craig mused, as they walked along, “I ain’t the same as I was then—it’s a long time, Mr. Halloran, a long time. She was a pretty girl—always had a laugh for one—I’ve often thought of her energy and nerve. She had a way of going at things, I tell you. When she got a notion she ought to earn her own living there couldn’t anything stop her. Are we getting near it?”

“Just a little way now.”

“That’s good. It’s queer how long a day can be—and after most twenty years, too.”

At the door Halloran paused. It was in a mean street, meaner even than the old quarters near Hoffman’s saloon, and the stairs leading up to the living-rooms above were crowded in between a cheap restaurant and a much less respectable saloon than Hoffman’s.

“Well, Captain, I’ll leave you here.”

“Why—aren’t you coming in?”

“No; I haven’t any too much time. I know Le Duc’s address—I read it in the paper this morning. We will meet here at half-past eight.” Craig was about to protest, but Halloran hurried off; and the Captain started alone up the stairway.

The Le Ducs were living at an apartment hotel not far from the Lake Shore Drive. From the appearance of the building and the neighbourhood Halloran inferred that the corn market was proving a profitable field for Apples. He inquired for him and was taken up in the elevator and shown into a neat little parlour on an upper floor, commanding a view of the lake. Being received by a maid in a cap and apron, he repeated his inquiry, only to learn that Mr. Le Duc was not at home—had not yet returned from his office. Could he see Mrs. Le Duc? The maid hesitated. But as time was pressing, he persisted. Would she please tell her mistress that Mr. Halloran had come with an important message from Mrs. Le Duc’s mother and grandfather. The maid turned away and had nearly crossed the room when she was intercepted by a loud whisper from behind the double doors of the next room:

“Ask him to wait.”

So Halloran sat down

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