Sound of the Trumpet (28 page)

But through it all nothing was said about the gadget, which she supposed was the most important issue of the whole situation. Could it be that somehow she had not gotten the right item? She had been so sure. She had heard so much about the thing from Victor and workmen who occasionally came into his office. Or hadn’t they discovered the loss of the thing? Didn’t it mean much to them? Perhaps there was a flaw in it, or perhaps it had just been left there as a decoy.

Over and over again she reviewed the circumstances of the night that she stole through the dim building behind the machines. What the men had called to one another. Hadn’t she gotten the right thing? Would Weaver be satisfied? Oh, if she could only get into contact with him right away. Perhaps she ought to say she was sick and wanted to go to her office. Would they let her go? Why hadn’t they said something about it? “Documents,” they’d said. That would be the blueprints, of course. But here they were, just harping on the dead man. Just a dead workman. What was that to make such a fuss about? In the land where she was trained, she had been taught that when you died you died, and it was in a way the end and aim of life, to have done the best to further a cause and die doing it. But here they were acting as if this mere workman were important. They would never find out that she had shot him. She hadn’t thought she’d killed him—she assumed she’d just scratched him, or made him faint perhaps. She hadn’t bothered to look behind to see what happened to the man. She had been too afraid he might cry out and maybe someone would come who would recognize her. And now she was glad he was gone. He, at least, could not rise up and testify against her. She had shot people before, in another land, and even been commended for it, so she was not particularly worried. But they had no evidence to prove she had fired that shot.

So the questioning went on, and the day wore to its close. She was very weary and faint, but they did not send her out to lunch. Instead they brought a tray with coffee and sandwiches, and twice more she was called in to be questioned again. There were other girls called and questioned, also, but not as many times as herself, and they were not kept in the office so long.

And all this time where was Victor?

She had counted on Victor to help her through this. Perhaps she had been wrong to come back at all. Perhaps she should have stayed in New York. Only, police were wise and quick to search out lost people, and returning had seemed to her the best way to disarm suspicion. If only Victor were here, he would take her part and defend her from all this silly questioning. She could wind Victor around her smooth little finger, she was sure. That was one reason why she half thought she would marry him, because she could always do with him what she wished. But she needed him now. Why didn’t he come?

And now they were asking her more about her relationship with her employer. Didn’t he talk the business of the plant over with her often? Hadn’t he told her of the secret things that were being made for war purposes? Hadn’t he described articles that were being made? Hadn’t he taken her into the workrooms at odd hours when the shifts were changing and no one would observe them? Wasn’t she interested in machinery? Hadn’t she once asked him to take her to see it?

Oh, the endless questions! Would they never cease? If only Victor would come and put an end to it all! Was he under suspicion and questioning, too? Oh, surely not. Perhaps he had been drinking and was having a hangover. He was doing too much of that. She must get him out of that if she really took him over.

But as the day wore on, Erda was almost of the opinion that she was going to escape from this setting and get away to pastures new. She would contact Weaver and Lacey and get sent elsewhere. They didn’t need her here any longer. She had accomplished their purpose for them, and they could afford to pay her a little more and send her to parts unknown. Especially if the police were getting this murder slant on things. They were stressing it so much that it almost seemed to outweigh the robbery. Though, of course, if they could prove who did the murder it would help to solve the mystery about the robbery.

She was surprised that she did not hear any whispering about what had happened from the other girls, but they were absolutely mum. No talk whatever, unless it were to ask for paper or letters that they were working on. Well, this, too, was a part of their scheme to put her on the spot, she supposed, and being Erda, and proud of her shady record, she held up her head, determined to see it through and show them that they were barking up the wrong tree. She would come out of this innocent as a lamb. She had done it before with other governments, and she would do it again. So she sat smiling through the hours and waiting for what came next.

L
isle went about her daily program like one walking on the clouds. Rosy clouds, too. War might be in the world, and sorrow and disappointment. Separation might loom, and undoubtedly would be on her horizon, but just for the present her soul was filled with ecstasy. Just to know the touch of John Sargent’s lips, the feel of his arms about her in that quick parting clasp, just to hear over and over that quick whisper, “Dear, good-bye!” That was enough to give her such joy as she had never known before.

Oh, there would come a time when she would want something more to satisfy the questions that would come. But she knew he was honorable. All the rest would come in due time. It simply hadn’t come to her consciousness as yet.

And then one day there came a letter. A dear letter. It brought back the thrill of his presence.

It began very simply.

Lisle read the letter over and over until she knew it by heart. She rejoiced in it almost as if it were a sacred thing. It seemed to her that it was the most beautiful love letter that anyone ever wrote. Later it occurred to her with a happy little relief that this was a letter she could show to her mother and father when the time came. A letter to be proud of. A letter of such dignity and sweetness that even the showing of it to her parents could not take away from its intimacy and beauty.

And the next day Victor came to see her!

The butler brought the word of his arrival to Mrs. Kingsley, who was in her room making out the menus for the day. The butler understood that Victor was not in good standing with the family, and especially not with Lisle. So instead of going at once to Lisle, for whom Victor had asked, he went to the mother.

Mrs. Kingsley looked up with a frown and a worry in her eyes.

“Victor? Oh! Did he ask for me?”

“No, madam, he asked for Miss Lisle, was she in?”

The mother considered.

“All right, I’ll tell her,” she said, and putting down her pencil and pad, rose and went to Lisle’s room.

“Dear,” she said gently, “Victor is here. He has asked for you. I think perhaps you had better go down and see him and try to be as kind and pleasant to him as you can. That is the way to help answer those prayers you said you were going to be remembering for him.”

Lisle looked up with a glance that seemed to come back hastily from somewhere abroad with the armed forces, and a capable, weary cloud went over her face, though she tried to brush it away and put on a cheeriness she did not feel about this particular caller.

“Why, yes, Mother, I’ll try,” she said with a little sigh of annoyance. “But, Mother, suppose you come down, too, and then you will see how quite impossible it is for me to do anything for Victor.”

“Oh no, dear,” said her mother. “That wouldn’t do at all. It would only make him angry. A young man doesn’t want a mother hanging around when he comes to call on a girl.”

“But, Mother, that’s just it. I don’t want it to seem like a young man come to call on a girl. Victor knows how I feel about him and all his propositions, and I want him to be reminded of it. Please come down, Mother.”

“No, dear,” said Mrs. Kingsley emphatically, “I really couldn’t. I have committee work to finish before this afternoon. A list to make out and all those ladies to call up. I really haven’t a minute. Run along, dear. You’ll be all right. And remember, this is your opportunity. Perhaps he has come to answer your prayers.”

Lisle made a little wry face.

“More like he has come to answer his own prayers, Mother,” she said with a mocking laugh. “But I’ll do my best. Only don’t expect me to stand any more of his insolence.”

“Now, dear, remember his poor mother, and do try to have a little patience.”

“Yes, I’ll be remembering his poor mother and how she has spoiled him all these years. It’s her fault largely that Victor is so unbearable. All right, run along to your committees, Mother, and I’ll take this thing over and settle it once for all.”

“Now don’t be so hard, Lisle dear! Don’t, I beg of you.”

“Mother I’m not hard, but I’ve got to be true, you know.”

“Yes, you’ve got to be true, of course,” sighed her mother, “but be sure you are not blinded as to what is truth. You don’t want to say or do anything that you will regret all your life. Remember, there are not so many old, true friends.”

“Well,
he
certainly isn’t one,” said Lisle annoyedly. She resolved as she hurried down the stairs that she would show John’s letter to her mother the first opportunity that offered. It really was time her mother understood that there was somebody else she loved, somebody who was real. She had hoped to wait a little until her mother got Victor off her mind, but if Victor had started in on another siege of friendliness, it was time he was settled once and for all, and time her parents understood that her heart was occupied and happy. Only she did so want them to know John, to
see
him, before she had to tell them. They would be a bit horrified, perhaps, that she had actually fallen in love with someone they didn’t know, hadn’t even seen. And John was so winning in appearance. His blue eyes so trustworthy—the light in them could not fail to win them at once. His wonderful gold hair, and his gorgeous smile! If he were only here for an hour! Mother might admire Victor’s handsome face, but she surely could not fail to see the strength and beautiful trustworthiness of John’s face. She must get him to send her a picture in his uniform!

He did look so wonderful in his uniform!

Then Lisle entered the living room, and Victor rose from an attitude of dejection on the couch over in the corner and lifted a hangdog expression to her face. Woebegone! That was it. So he was going to take that attitude, was he? And blame all his troubles on her! It was an old trick of his with which she had no patience.

But Victor was really dejected! He didn’t attempt to smile or crack any jokes. He just nodded to Lisle as if she were an old rag of a friend to whom he had come as a last resort, and then he dropped back to the couch with his old cap in his hand, continuing to twirl and watch it as he talked, for all the world like his little-boy self when he came to pour out his troubles to his friend.

But Lisle was not moved by any such manipulations. She merely said good morning briskly and dropped down on a chair halfway across the room from where he sat. This was nothing to her but a business to be got through with as soon as possible, for she had been writing a letter to John when this summons reached her. Of course, she knew that she could not send it yet because she had no address, but it was as if she had been having a pleasant talk with her betrothed, and she hated to be interrupted by something she knew would turn out to be unpleasant.

But there was something about Victor’s appearance that was different from any attitude he had ever worn before. He seemed almost humble, and utterly dejected. His old arrogance was gone, as if he had been through some terrible experience that had changed his whole view of life, and the way he tossed his cap around and around restlessly was terrible to see. She watched him with a puzzled look. She hadn’t heard about the trouble at the plant. She only knew that there was a large detachment of soldiers guarding the vicinity, but that would be natural if they were making something important for the war, some secret weapon. That was what had been given out to the general public, and as yet no one knew the terrible catastrophe that had happened. It would have to come out soon, but until it did, Victor naturally would have held his head high and gone smiling on his way. Lisle could not make out what was the matter with him.