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Frances Shelleij Wees
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CHAPTER I
DRYN finished his story. Tall,
"lean, bronzed, he stood before
the big crystal mirror hanging over
the stone fireplace and examined
tils chin critically. It was a very
nice chin, but Bryn was not In the
least concerned with its niceness;
he was trying to determine whether
Bnrch had or had not nicked it in
finitesimally. It seemed not. Burch
had done his usual perfect job.
Tubby, his eyes round and dis
tracted, dropped into one of the
deep morocco armchairs and stared
out at the dusk. It was pouring
like smoke across the bay, sifting
through the Golden Gate to blot
out the sunset. The daily fleet of
fishing vessels, their sails a row
of tiny dark triangles against the
dimming face of the sun, slipped
out once more to brave the perils of
the vasty deep. Below the house
the waves lapped idly at the white
clitT, gentle and harmless.
Tubby was not a philosopher, and
he had very little imagination. To
Tubby a horse was a horse, usually
with four legs and a tall. It was
not something over which kingdoms
might be lost or with which prin
cesses might be rescued. Waves to
Tubby were waves, always wet and
often chilly. But now, as he stared
down through the wide plate glass
window, there was a look of posi
tive inspiration on his face, as if he
were telling himself that these
waves, at least, might sometimes
wash the shores of China, the far,
far, dangerous shores of China;
that these waves might easily,
umall and tender though they now
fappeared, might easily puff and
swell and lift themselves to fall
with thunder and fury on one of the
innocent little vessels drifting now
so serenely past the sun. Life was
like that, Tubby was convinced.
Tubby put his head down into his
hands and groaned.
“Look here, Bryn,” he said in a
woebegone voice, ‘‘you can't go
through with it. I won’t let you.
That’s final.”
} “Tut, tut," Bryn responded amia
bly. He pressed a bell on the man
telpiece. Burch, bland and serene,
opened the door noiselessly.
“Burch, I am being married this
evening.”
There was a moment of dead
stillness as if even the waves had
halted in their Irresistible course.
Then Burch swallowed, and said
■ohly, “Indeed, sir? Do you wish
me to procure a maidservant, sir?"
Bryn looked up, startled. “A
maid servant? Do we need a maid
servant?”
“I was thinking of your wife, sir.”
“My wife?” Bryn repeated, his
eyes coming sharply to Burch’s
face. Then, "Ah ... no. She will
not be coming here.”
“Very good, sir. What shall I
pack?”
Bryn looked down at the gray
suit with which, Tubby had Insist
ed, he was desecrating the evening.
He considered. "Well, shirts and
things. Nothing else, except those
old golf trousers I got so much mud
on at Tahoe."
“Yes, sir. Nothing else? No guns?
No fishing tackle? No golf clubs?"
“Nothing. By the way—I am a
young engineer out of work be
cause of the depression. Anything
a young engineer out of work be
cause of the depression wouldn’t
have, I wouldn’t have. I’ve pawned
It.”
Burch drew a noticeable deep
breath. “Very good, sir. Shall you
be here to breakfast?”
"Certainly.”
"And . . .”
"No, 1 said she wasn’t coming.”
“Ah . . . yes, sir. Lunch?”
“No lunch. I shall be leaving im
mediately after breakfast, and you
needn't prepare dinner until ap
proximately a year from tonight. I
shall be away during that time.”
“Yes, sir. And the orders for
Morton?”
Bryn swung round from the glass.
He regarded Burch thoughtfully.
“That’s so,” he said meditatively.
"1 might have forgotten. Tell Mor
ton to take a spanner, will you, and
remove the paint—not all of It, hut
large, uneven portions—from the
Bellaire. Tell him to take a chisel
^ and give it some nice deep
’ scratches. Tell him to make it look
like a car I might have bought for
about forty-two dollars and fifty
cents from a bankrupt gangster. He
might hash up the fenders, and if
anything further occurs to him,,.”
“The Bellaire, sir? The new
Trench motor? The black car?”
“All of those things,” Bryn said
nalmly.
Tubby stood up. His eyes rested
on Burch’s agitated countenance,
lie drew a deep breath.
"That’s all,” Bryn said crisply.
“Yes, sir," Burch muttered de
spondently, and went out.
Tubby was staring at Bryn. “Any
body would think you were in love
with the girl," lie snld.
“Would they? How nice. It
sounds so much better. So much
more romantic and idyllic. To be
in love with one’s bride Instead of
marrying her for her money."
"Money!" Tubby said bitterly.
"Money!’’ He shook his head mis
erably. "You're making some kind
of a damned fool out of yourself.
Bryn. You’re letting some gang pull
a fast one on you that’s what
you’re doing. Do you think for a
minute that that girl doesn’t know
who you are?”
“She doesn’t,” Bryn said calmly.
Tubby snorted. “That’s a bright
remark, isn't it? Very bright. Now,
if I ask you, how in God's name
could anybody on the Pacific coast
help having seen your ugly mug in
the papers, how could anybody who
can read help knowing about James
Weldon Shipley Brynildson Third
and his speed boats and his ele
phant tusks and his seven cars and
his polo ponies?"
"I’m sure she can read," Bryn re
plied, unruffled. “The first time I
saw her she was reading over a lot
of legal documents up In Hoi
worthy's office.”
Tubby eyed him for a long mo
ment. Then he said gustily, "Look
here, Bryn. Did it ever occur to
“Did It Ever Occur to You That
Ted Holworthy Might Be Engi
neering Thia Beautiful Mix-up?”
you that Ted Holworthy himself
might be engineering this beauti
ful mix-up? Did it?"
“I can’t say that it did.”
“All this talking he’s been doing
about her. What did he tell you
about her for In the first place? Oh,
I know he said It was an Interest
ing case, but that was just to get
you listening.”
“Didn’t you think It was an in
teresting case, Tubby?”
“Well, if It was a case, yes. Cer
tainly. Of course. I thought my
self it was interesting. But you no
tice I didn’t get all wrought up
about it and start hanging around
to get a look at the girl, and even
if I had 1 wouldn't even dream of
stepping into a game like this and
marrying her myself.”
"Neither did I,” Bryn said. “I
never dreamed of such a thing. But
I was curious, I'll admit that. You
haven’t any curiosity becuuse you
haven’t got any imagination. If
you had, you’d have been hanging
around, too. You’d have wanted to
look at the man in the case, when
he arrived for this wedding to a
girl he’d never seen, and then when
you saw the man you’d certainly
have wanted to get a look at the
girl, and when you saw the girl
. . .” Bryn paused. Tubby looked
at him curiously, but Bryn coughed
and went on immediately. “When
you saw the girl you would most
assuredly have wanted to know how
it was all going to come out. She
. . . well, she wasn’t ids type, Tub."
“You're saying just what I’ve
been trying to say,” Tubby cried.
“Ilolworthy’s been working on your
imagination. He knows what you're
like. Well, it’s succeeded. Every
tiling’s gone according to plan
You're roped. Tonight you're go
ing to marry this girl that you’ve
only seen three times, a girl you
don’t really know a darn thing
about, just because she has some
kind of cock-and-bull story about
having to get married before her
twenty-first birthday and the man
she's supposed to marry doesn’t
happen to take her fancy. Of course
he wouldn’t take her fancy wdth
you around. Certainly he wouldn’t.
That’s what It's all about, you darn
Idiot. You, Janies Weldon Shipley
Brynildson Tldrd. Ye gods and lit
tle fishes, aren’t there enough men
on the coast who would marry her
for this fifty thousand dollars she’s
supposed to be paying you, without
you stepping into It? It’s so damned
absurd. What are you doing it for?
Fifty thousand dollars doesn’t mean
anything to you! And they’ve got
it all worked out so that there’ll be
plenty of publicity and trouble
when you want a divorce . . .
you going up into the Oregon back
woods to live with her for a year.
So romantic! And she'll turn out
to be a cheap little crook, but she'll
be married to you all the same and
entitled to a lot of your property
when the break comes and your
name as well. Doesn't it sound
beautiful?”
Don t be an ass,” Bryn saiu com
fortably. ”1 happen to know that
this business is on the level, be
cause I’ve known about the case
for years. I met the old gentle
man himself, Deborah’s gratidfa
ther. when he was here eight years
ago fixing the will up with Ted’s fa
ther. It was Just when I was tak
ing over my property and spending
a good deal of time in Holworthy's
office. The old gentleman was a
most Interesting old chap, and we
had several long conversations, lie
was intensely concerned about this
will he was making, and very anx
ious to make sure that he was do
ing the right thing. The old man
put the thing up to me ns a hypo
thetical case and asked me what I
thought of it. Being a young fool,
I thought it sounded fine.”
"So now,” Tubby said, eyeing
him, “when it doesn’t look ns If It
might he so fine, you feel respon
sible? Is that it? Is that why
you’re throwing yourself aVvay like
a sack of soft potatoes?"
Bryn sighed. "I do wish you'd
go and change your clothes," he
said. "You can’t be my best man
in a white tie and tall, not when
I’m wearing a lounge suit. We’d
probably have another earthquake."
"And what about Pilar?”
"Well, what about her?”
"For two years you’ve carted her
around. Everybody thinks you’re
going to marry her. Site’ll go blooey
when she hears this. Have you told
her tynythlng at all?”
“How could I tell her? I wasn't
sure myself until two hours ago.
And there’s no reason why I should.
I’ve never asked her to marry me,
or even hinted about it."
“Well, I don’t have to tell Iter,
do I?”
“That’s a bright Iden," Bryn said
happily. “Thanks, old man. I’ll do
the same for you one of these days.
Now, on your way. Tubby. Go and
get dressed. Burch will bring you
your cocktail, and lend you one of
his shirts and a collar. You can
wear my pants if you’re careful not
to take a deep breath, but I don’t
think you’d better try buttoning the
coat. All in keeping . . . she’ll
think you got them second hand."
*••••••
Twenty-three years previously,
Anne Whittaker Larned hud eloped,
on the morning of tiie day of her
wedding to Courtney Graham, and
had married a young man, who,
had he been a woman, would nev
er have been received in the so
ciety in which the Larneds moved.
The consequences were disastrous.
The young man had no money, bat
he had expected to have a great
deal when the Larneds relented and
forgave their only daughter. How
ever, he encountered unexpected
difficulties with the daughter her
self; for when she discovered why
he had married her, she crept away
from him, her heart as nearly bro
ken as a physical organ can be bro
ken by human unhappiness, and
when her daughter was only a few
days old, she died. Fortunately,
the young father—who never knew
that he was a father—was kicked
In a vital spot by a horse, and died
before he could cause any more
misfortune; thus strengthening the
belief of a number of people in the
vengeance and justice of God.
The aged and broken grandpar
ents took their daughter's child and
also the blame for their daughter’s
unhappiness. If, they told them
selves, miserably, they had guard
ed her well, she would never have
met this handsome young scoun
drel, and all would have been as
they had planned. She would have
married Courtney Graham, scion of
an old and spotless family, and all
her ways would have been ways of
pleasantness and all her paths
would have been paths of peace.
The Grahams were among the
first people of Boston. Nowhere
on their escutcheon could be found
a blot, and even the erasure marks
were so carefully done as to leave
no trace. A perfect marriage, it
would have been. But their daugh
ter was dead, and their hitter re
gret was in vain. However, they
still had the child, and over the
mother's grave they vowed to them
selves that nothing should mar this
girl’s life. They dedicated their
remaining years to her. It seemed
to them that they must creep out
of the world with her, hide her, and
find for her a sanctuary.
They had sold the historic man
sion in Boston, and with their beau
tiful old household goods, had gone
west as far as they could go, out to
the Oregon wilderness. There, in
the most glorious natural surround
ings, they had built a huge stone
house. They were miles from the
nearest town, and cut off from all
easy contact with civilization.
Here the child, Deborah, grew up,
with only her grandparents and the
servants for her companions. In
the early years, when she was yet
ii small child, she went Infrequent
ly with her grandparents over the
rough mountain roads to the little
country town, or was perhaps al
lowed to accompany old (lary, their
servant, on a marketing expedition;
but as she grew older, and her
mother’s beauty began to evidence
itself in her, she was kept more
and more closely at home. There
were quite often guests at the.great
house when Deborah was a child,
but they were grave elderly people
like her grandparents, so that she
grew up completely cut off from
companions of her own age and
generation. She had, however, a
library full of books, and three peo
ple entirely devoted to her welfare.
It must be admitted that of the
three. Grandfather, Grandmother
and Gary, it was Gary who taught
her the most Interesting things.
Grandfather taught her history, and
science, and geography, and politi
cal economy. Grandmother taught
her needlework, and a number of
things that made them both blush
and over which they skipped as
hastily us possible. Hut Gary—
Gary told her stories of people.
Yes, there was Gary. Grandfa
ther and Grandmother kept the Iron
gates leading to the world locked
and barred, but Gary lifted the shut
ters of a thousand little windows,
magic casements, all of them, open
ing on the foam of perilous seas.
But no matter how stuunchly
Grandfather and Grandmother kept
the Iron gates locked ngnlnst the
world, they knew that some day
they would have to be. opened, even
if only to allow themselves to pass
through, on their last Journeys. For
many years the question of Debo
rah’s future, when the iron gates
should be opened, gave them anx
ious hours of discussion. She would
have a fortune greater than her
father’s before her, since It had
grown through the years. She had
no relatives other than her grand
parents. Deborah must be com
pletely secure. So, when she was
thirteen, eight years ago, Grand
father had gone away to San Fran
cisco on a Journey, and when he re
turned he lind stopped frowning,
and they told her that her future
happiness was taken care of.
Courtney Graham, less than a
year after the marriage of Debo
rah’s mother, had taken unto him
self n wife. For him to do so had
been a blow, but after tnlklng it
all over for a number of yenrR,
Grandfather nnd Grandmother had
consoled themselves by saying that
of course Anne, as far as Courtney
knew at the time of his marriage,
was happy; that If she had been
dead, Courtney would ltave devot
ed his life to mourning her loss,
would have considered himself a
widower. No; Courtney had been
n perfect New England gentleman
and he had done no wrong.
He had a son, born two months
after Deborah herself. The boy’s
name wns Stuart, and now at thir
teen he was a tall handsome lad of
great promise. His father and
grandfather both thought that a
second attempt at an alliance be
tween the two families might prove
a happy one. So it was understood
that if the young people were will
ing, they should marry each other
when they grew up.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Deborah
Enters a
Great Adventure
HONEYMOON
MOUNTAIN
by
Frances Shelley Wees
OUR NEWEST SERIAL
Far up in the mountains of the Pacific
Coast, in the old-world atmosphere of a
secluded estate, the lovely, unsophisti
cated Deborah had been reared. Instead
of marrying the fortune-hunting suitor
named by her family, she offered
another man $50,000 to act as substitute
for one year to satisfy the stipulation
of a will. But he fell in love with herl
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