Delphi Complete Works of Thorne Smith (Illustrated), page 75
Slowly Daniel climbed into his car. He appeared not to have heard his old friend. How tired and strangely remote he felt . . . old for his thirty years. When at last he spoke he did not look at Munson, but continued to stare vacantly ahead over the arc of the steering wheel.
“Scott,” he said, “there’s only one person can help now and she — I mean, that person won’t help. That person who could help, who could so easily help, only wants to hurt, to injure and destroy. I know that.” He drummed nervously on the wheel with the tips of his long brown fingers. “Yet something’s got to be done,” he added as if to himself. “Something . . . what?”
“Maybe together we could dope that something out,” suggested Munson.
Then Daniel turned and asked Munson a strange question, one that troubled his friend’s thoughts considerably throughout the tragic days to follow. “Tell me, Scott,” he began, as if he were inwardly puzzling over a certain problem, “tell me this. A man purchases deliberately a number of high-powered guns, arranges his business affairs, and, let us say, travels all the way to Africa at no small trouble and expense. Well, once there this man proceeds to organize and equip a small army of carriers and what-nots. Then, after several weeks of crouching, stalking, and false-dealing in general, he brings down a fine, great elephant or a tiger — animals that are minding their own affairs, keeping to their own land, and living according to their own savage code. What would you call that man, Scott? What would the world call him?”
“Why, don’t be childish, Dan!” laughed Munson. “At the worst he’s nothing more than a fanatical hunter, a waster of time, money, and animal life. Why?”
Daniel nodded appreciatively. “Just so,” he went on, “but the idea of it has always puzzled me somewhat. I know I’m a bit childish about wantonly killing things — always have been.” He hesitated a moment, then continued: “And suppose that same chap removes from the face of the earth a person who wrecks and strikes at one’s very being — one’s so-called soul, a person far more deliberately cruel and dangerous to society than the most treacherous beast or reptile that lurks in the jungle, a creature who is not only evil but also one who can create evil in others — what, Scott, would you call that person?”
There was fever in Daniel’s eyes as he turned and confronted his friend.
“I see what you’re driving at, Dan,” slowly replied Munson, “and I can’t say that in a manner of speaking I don’t sympathize with your point of view. But again you’re all wrong. You can’t trifle with human life—”
“How about human hearts and souls?” snapped Daniel.
“As things stand today the law fails to take them strictly into consideration,” said Munson, “although they play a part. But, by and large, it has a hard enough time dealing with the body. There are no doubt soul-murderers or heart-murderers or mind-murderers, but as a rule they escape unpunished in this world. Daniel, the man you spoke of, no matter what the circumstances, is in this world a murderer, and there’s no getting away from that. We’re living in this world, you see. Remember that, Dan, remember that.”
Again Daniel nodded agreement. “I guess you’re right at that, Scott,” he said with a twisted smile. “No doubt about it. But, after all, it does seem sort of goofy, doesn’t it? Damn goofy I’d call it, if you ask me. Murderer — a nice, bright, homelike word, that!” He paused and smiled at Munson, and this time his smile was natural and friendly. “Just like some of the crazy discussions we used to have back at college. Thanks, Scott. See you soon. You’re lunching at the club, I suppose?”
Without waiting for an answer he set his car in motion.
Chapter Three: Daniel and Barney
FOR A MOMENT Scott Munson stood poised in the driveway watching the gliding roadster until it raced round a curve, then, going swiftly through a rear door of the club-house, he reached the veranda just in time to see Emily-Jane Seabrook signal Daniel to stop. For a moment it looked to Munson as if Daniel were going to disobey the summons of the gracefully fluttering hand, but slowly the car slackened speed and came to a reluctant stop.
At that moment Munson became aware of a figure standing beside him, and turned to inspect the tense body and clenched hands of Sam Stoughten. Munson’s eyes swept to the other’s face and lingered there fascinated by what he saw written on the tight lips, the grim jaw, and the chin aggressively out-thrust. And behind the lenses of the glasses Scott caught a glimpse of the fires of hell itself. Stoughten stood there thus for a moment, his guard of reserve down, then his body relaxed as if defeated, the chin dropped, the hands swung helplessly, and the man turned back to the club-house.
In this brief flash of self-revelation Sam had furnished Scott Munson with still more food for thought. And Munson’s first thought was that Emily-Jane had more than one seeming friend who did not wish her any too well.
“Half a mo’,” cried that young lady, as she ran down the steps and gaily approached her prospective brother-in-law, now waiting sullenly behind the wheel of his car.
Munson saw that much, but what he did not see, nor did anyone else for that matter, was the swift change of expression that took possession of Emily-Jane’s features the exact moment she felt sure she was free from the observation of others.
No more of the frank-eyed Emily-Jane. Gone — vanished! Here was a new creature, a thing ridden by a hot venomous fury. Laughing Emily-Jane had become a hard-voiced, blazing young devil, something a trifle subhuman. At first she had nothing to say but much to look, then gradually an unpleasant smile rearranged the lines of her lips.
“Don’t do that again, Daniel,” she said evenly. “You wanted to make a fool of me in front of the whole damn club. Well, don’t do it, Daniel. Don’t do it, my ex-slave.”
She laughed, as Daniel’s face darkened. And had she but known it each ringing note was doing a terrible thing to her.
“Wipe that look off your face, Daniel,” she went on softly. “Look like you used to, or have you forgotten how?”
“Yes,” said Daniel at last. “It didn’t make sufficient impression, but you seem to remember.”
“You’re going to live to regret that, Daniel,” she said, leaving a pause of ice between each word.
“I doubt that,” replied Daniel, looking at her strangely. “But what do you want? I’m waiting.”
“Tell your brother I’m lunching at the club,” she said, “and explain to him in words of one syllable about tonight. You’re going to make the formal announcement and drink to our happiness. You’ll like that, won’t you, Daniel? You’re the head of the family, you know, such as it is. That’s about all for now,” she went on, after a short pause during which she had been enjoying the effect of her words. “That’s about all except that I suggest you stop treating Lane Holt as if he didn’t belong. He’s a particular friend of mine. I’m fond of Lane. Very. And, Daniel dear, you might as well make up your mind to be a good boy right now. We’ll be better friends that way . . . much better friends. If you don’t behave” — once more she paused and looked at him consideringly— “if you don’t, Daniel, I’ll kick over the whole damn apple cart. You have more to lose than I, you and your precious friends. And the harm that I can do can never be undone. Remember that, Daniel. Now you may go.”
Her silvery laughter fell pleasantly on the soft quiet air and brought a responsive smile to the lips of several sentimental dowagers clucking round their daughters on the veranda. Emily-Jane was always passing happiness along.
She had just passed great quantities of it to Daniel, but there was little suggestion of a smile on his lips as he sent his car, like a whirring curse, down the sweeping driveway of the Coastal Country Club.
Emily-Jane’s short talk with Daniel had done her small good. If she had not been altogether popular with him before, she was far less now. As he went brooding over the country road on his way homeward, Daniel Crewe swore both darkly and deeply in his heart that for once in her life Emily-Jane was not going to have anything like her way. She would never defeat him. He knew this now. And he also knew why she would never defeat him. But this knowledge, instead of bringing to him the relief one would expect, filled him with a sort of dull horror. He experienced a desire not to be alone with himself, and at the same time felt a strong inclination to lie down somewhere and hide like an animal — not like a man.
Already he felt the world withdrawing a little from him. Already he stood aside as if he were another person and criticized the determination that was solidifying in his mind. He had a strange feeling that within his very being he was hiding and protecting a stranger, a furtive, stealthy stranger with whom he must become friendly so that he should no longer fear his promptings.
This furtive stranger was assuring him in no equivocal language that he had been a damn fool to ask Scott Munson those revealing questions just now. That had been a decidedly false step. Daniel must be more careful. There must be no more false steps. From now on he must avoid arousing the slightest suspicion. Tonight, for instance, tonight of all nights, he must convince the world that he admired and respected his brother’s future wife. He must go through with it successfully. A man can do anything if he tries. Another thing, he must attempt to erase all traces of suspicion that might lie in the mind of his friend Scott Munson. No. Better leave Scott alone. Let that conversation pass. The harm had already been done.
Daniel stopped the car at the side of the road and wiped his forehead. Why was he sweating so? He held up his hands before his eyes and looked at them intently. Then for a long minute he studied his features in the driver’s mirror. Any change? No. None that he could see. Quite the same old Daniel. A trifle pale perhaps. Still, there was that unaccustomed sensation of trembling, of trembling inwardly. Better take a drink, suggested the stranger, and Daniel, acting on this never unwelcome suggestion, drew a silver flask from the side pocket of the roadster and helped himself.
As he did so a car, filled with acquaintances, flashed by, some of its occupants being just human enough to look back, as if to make sure of having seen something unusual.
“Strange thing for Dan Crewe to be doing,” said a man named Jackson. “Never saw Daniel drinking all alone before. Must have needed it badly. Had to stop his car and pull up at the roadside. The thirsty devil couldn’t wait till he reached home.”
But Daniel had not heeded the passing of the car. His nerves had ceased jumping. Yes, he would go home now and make one last effort. He would try his luck with Barney.
If he only could. If he only could. At the thought of possible success his world came back a little. Daniel almost prayed.
Back on the club-house veranda Emily-Jane was chatting spiritedly with young and old alike. That was one of her many charms. She always found time to be gracious to the mothers and fathers of her friends.
“If only the other young people would try to be more like her,” was a general observation.
“Dan’s such a lovable old bear,” she was saying, “but such a goose. He’s so fussy and nervous about tonight that he looks for all the world like an undertaker trying to sympathize with a corpse.”
Prophetic utterances not lost on the ears of two men who were standing a little apart from the group. Its effect was to cause the color momentarily to withdraw from Sam Stoughten’s ruddy face. He turned abruptly away and sought a secluded chair. Scott Munson idly moved in his direction.
“Yes,” continued Emily-Jane, “the poor man’s elected to make the formal announcement, and he doesn’t seem to have the vaguest idea how to go about it. He’ll probably begin with, ‘Come, all ye. Come, all ye. The honorable judge is now sitting’!”
Amid general laughter she escaped from the circle and flashed down the veranda. As she passed Sam Stoughten’s chair she paused lightly — tauntingly.
“Hello there, Sambo,” she said. “All alone and sullen. Where’s black-eyed Susan?”
“Why, haven’t you seen her?” asked Stoughten in a casually bitter tone. “Why not write to her? You admit yourself you’re good with letters.”
“Perhaps some day I’ll take your advice, Sambo,” she replied.
“Then you’d better be quick,” said Stoughten.
“Meaning what?” asked Emily-Jane.
Stoughten did not answer.
“Don’t be a fool, Sambo,” said the girl, after a moment of thoughtful silence. “And don’t try to frighten me. Admit you’re licked and behave yourself. Good-by, Sambo, dear.”
She passed lightly on down the veranda.
Presently Scott Munson moved quietly from the shadow of an alcove near the water-cooler and, seating himself by Stoughten, deliberately lighted a cigarette.
“Smoke, Sam?” he asked, extending his case.
The hand that selected a cigarette trembled slightly. “Thanks,” said Sam, but for several minutes he made no attempt to light the cigarette.
Daniel found his brother contentedly at work in the dining-room, the last place in the world any normal painter would select for his efforts. The room was almost dark, the curtains being drawn, but Barney seemed to be either unaware of the lack of light or indifferent to it. Today he was engaged in seeing the most uncompromisingly yellow bananas in shades of girlish pink. On the table at his elbow was a bowl of fruit, pieces of which he had already partly eaten as if to make sure that his subjects were authentic. It would have been a pity to waste so much talent on stuffed fruit. Daniel stood looking down at the painting over his brother’s shoulder.
“Even the specks are wrong,” he observed at last, with a note of the old bantering challenge in his voice.
“Don’t take them too much to heart,” replied his brother, without troubling to look up. “They’re my specks, after all. I see ’em that way, so they are that way. Go paint some specks of your own. I’ll match my specks against yours, speck for speck, catch as catch can.”
“Oh, all right,” said Daniel. “It’s a wonder to me you can paint any specks at all in this light.”
He sat down at the long table and stretched his arms wearily across its deep, glowing surface.
“I’ve decided to accustom myself to painting in entire darkness,” announced Barney. “I may even start a new school of painting. It will be altogether intellectual, uninfluenced by externals, dependent on neither color nor form. Just pure thought — the brain transferred to canvas.”
“Yours transferred to canvas would leave it quite unspoiled,” observed Daniel.
“In that there would be some deep significance,” said his brother.
“When you paint in the dark,” asked Daniel, not in the least interested, “how will you know what you’re painting?”
“It is better not to sometimes,” replied Barney soberly. “Far, far better. But the real answer is, you won’t know.”
“Not even when you’ve finished?” asked Daniel.
“Probably not,” said Barney, “because in my proposed school all pictures will be not only painted in darkness but also hung in darkness. One will be expected to view them in pitch blackness and to criticize accordingly. Too many critics of pictures are influenced by what they see rather than by what they don’t see. That is a great mistake. Now in my school every artist will enjoy an equal advantage — complete invisibility. Of course there will be trained guides to lead people about. I’ve thought it all out.”
“To me,” said Daniel, “it’s about the most reasonable idea you ever had.”
“Thanks,” replied Barney. “Where’s the girl?”
“She told me to tell you she was staying to lunch at the club with the rest of the gang,” said Daniel, then added mendaciously, “She thought it would save a lot of fuss and bother in view of the doings tonight.”
“There’s a brain for you,” Barney remarked admiringly. “Thinks of everything and everyone. Well, it won’t be long now. I beat you to it, Dan, old son. And there’s a damn fine girl just dying to marry you. Why don’t you do something about June, Dan? Let’s all get married together. We’ll be tagged so we won’t get mixed up, as they always do at least once or twice in all good Franco-American farces.”
Daniel was beginning to feel his nerves quivering again. This was due to a sharp realization that perhaps never again would he and his brother be able to talk thus together. He rose and sought the sideboard where he poured himself a drink. Then he came back to the table.
“I say, Barney,” he began, and there was that in his voice that made Barney stop daubing and look up at his brother anxiously. “Listen here, Barney,” Daniel began again, “I’m not at all sure about tonight. Do you feel you’re doing the wisest thing? After all, you two have known each other less than a couple of months at the most. What I mean is, old man, you’re pretty damn happy as you are — we’ve been happy together. We can keep on being happy — traveling and all that sort of thing. No end of possibilities. I’m not going to get married for a long, long time. Why not wait a while longer with me? There’s a lot of things we can enjoy together. Don’t let’s go through with the formal announcement which actually is an open invitation to your wedding. Why, Barney, kid, in only a couple of weeks you’ll be a married man! What then? Let’s clear out. Let’s do anything. Call it off, will you . . . or . . . or . . . wait a little longer. Just wait and see what happens. Give me a chance, Barney. We’ll go right away. Just think—”
He broke off with the nauseating knowledge of failure. Barney’s face had fallen. The boy was amazed. Not unlike a too trusting pup that had been smitten suddenly by a cat that had led him to expect better things, he now looked up at his brother. Daniel’s gaze was filled with a deep entreaty. Then he looked away. Instinctively his eyes sought the shadows.
“Get yourself another drink, old boy,” said Barney in a quiet voice. “I know how you feel, but of course you’re all wrong about everything. My being married will make no difference at all. We can go on living just the same as ever and do all the things we’ve planned. I know how you feel. I’d feel the same. Don’t you think I haven’t thought about it myself? I have — lots. And of course you must marry June. The four of us will have one hell of a high time.”
