The Make-Believe Man | Page 9

be alone, where I could delight in it, where I
could go over what she had said; what I had said. I would share it with
no one. It was too wonderful, too sacred. But Kinney would not be
denied. He led me to our cabin and locked the door.
"I am sorry," he began, "but this adventure is one I cannot share with
you." The remark was so in keeping with my own thoughts that with
sudden unhappy doubt I wondered if Kinney, too, had felt the charm of
the beautiful lady. But he quickly undeceived me.
"I have been doing a little detective work," he said. His voice was low
and sepulchral. "And I have come upon a real adventure. There are
reasons why I cannot share it with you, but as it develops you can
follow it. About half an hour ago," he explained, "I came here to get my
pipe. The window was open. The lattice was only partly closed.
Outside was that young man from Harvard who tried to make my
acquaintance, and the young Englishman who came on board with that

blonde." Kinney suddenly interrupted himself. "You were talking to her
just now," he said. I hated to hear him speak of the Irish lady as "that
blonde." I hated to hear him speak of her at all. So, to shut him off, I
answered briefly: "She asked me about the Singer Building."
"I see," said Kinney. "Well, these two men were just outside my
window, and, while I was searching for my pipe, I heard the American
speaking. He was very excited and angry. 'I tell you,' he said, 'every
boat and railroad station is watched. You won't be safe till we get away
from New York. You must go to your cabin, and STAY there.' And the
other one answered: 'I am sick of hiding and dodging.'"
Kinney paused dramatically and frowned.
"Well," I asked, "what of it?"
"What of it?" he cried. He exclaimed aloud with pity and impatience.
"No wonder," he cried, "you never have adventures. Why, it's plain as
print. They are criminals escaping. The Englishman certainly is
escaping."
I was concerned only for the lovely lady, but I asked: "You mean the
Irishman called Stumps?"
"Stumps!" exclaimed Kinney. "What a strange name. Too strange to be
true. It's an alias!" I was incensed that Kinney should charge the friends
of the lovely lady with being criminals. Had it been any one else I
would have at once resented it, but to be angry with Kinney is difficult.
I could not help but remember that he is the slave of his own
imagination. It plays tricks and runs away with him. And if it leads him
to believe innocent people are criminals, it also leads him to believe
that every woman in the Subway to whom he gives his seat is a great
lady, a leader of society on her way to work in the slums.
"Joe!" I protested. "Those men aren't criminals. I talked to that
Irishman, and he hasn't sense enough to be a criminal."
"The railroads are watched," repeated Kinney. "Do HONEST men care
a darn whether the railroad is watched or not? Do you care? Do I care?
And did you notice how angry the American got when he found
Stumps talking with you?"
I had noticed it; and I also recalled the fact that Stumps had said to the
lovely lady: "He told me I could come on deck as soon as we started."
The words seemed to bear out what Kinney claimed he had overheard.
But not wishing to encourage him, of what I had heard I said nothing.

"He may be dodging a summons," I suggested. "He is wanted, probably,
only as a witness. It might be a civil suit, or his chauffeur may have hit
somebody."
Kinney shook his head sadly.
"Excuse me," he said, "but I fear you lack imagination. Those men are
rascals, dangerous rascals, and the woman is their accomplice. What
they have done I don't know, but I have already learned enough to
arrest them as suspicious characters. Listen! Each of them has a
separate state-room forward. The window of the American's room was
open, and his suit-case was on the bed. On it were the initials H. P. A.
The stateroom is number twenty-four, but when I examined the purser's
list, pretending I wished to find out if a friend of mine was on board, I
found that the man in twenty-four had given his name as James Preston.
Now," he demanded, "why should one of them hide under an alias and
the other be afraid to show himself until we leave the wharf?" He did
not wait for my answer. "I have been talking to Mr. H.