Van Bibbers Life | Page 8

one corner. Then he
looked back over his shoulder to see that there was no one near enough
to hear him, and said to the driver, "To the Berkeley Flats, on Fifth
Avenue." He picked the child up gently in his arms as the carriage
started, and sat looking out thoughtfully and anxiously as they flashed
past the lighted shop-windows on Broadway. He was far from certain
of this errand, and nervous with doubt, but he reassured himself that he
was acting on impulse, and that his impulses were so often good. The
hall-boy at the Berkeley said, yes, Mr. Caruthers was in, and Van
Bibber gave a quick sigh of relief. He took this as an omen that his
impulse was a good one. The young English servant who opened the
hall door to Mr. Caruthers's apartment suppressed his surprise with an
effort, and watched Van Bibber with alarm as he laid the child on the
divan in the hall, and pulled a covert coat from the rack to throw over
her.
"Just say Mr. Van Bibber would like to see him," he said, "and you
need not speak of the little girl having come with me."

She was still sleeping, and Van Bibber turned down the light in the hall,
and stood looking down at her gravely while the servant went to speak
to his master.
"Will you come this way, please, sir?" he said.
"You had better stay out here," said Van Bibber, "and come and tell me
if she wakes."
Mr. Caruthers was standing by the mantel over the empty fireplace,
wrapped in a long, loose dressing-gown which he was tying around him
as Van Bibber entered. He was partly undressed, and had been just on
the point of getting into bed. Mr. Caruthers was a tall, handsome man,
with dark reddish hair, turning below the temples into gray; his
mustache was quite white, and his eyes and face showed the signs of
either dissipation or of great trouble, or of both. But even in the
formless dressing-gown he had the look and the confident bearing of a
gentleman, or, at least, of the man of the world. The room was very
rich-looking, and was filled with the medley of a man's choice of good
paintings and fine china, and papered with irregular rows of original
drawings and signed etchings. The windows were open, and the lights
were turned very low, so that Van Bibber could see the many gas lamps
and the dark roofs of Broadway and the Avenue where they crossed a
few blocks off, and the bunches of light on the Madison Square Garden,
and to the lights on the boats of the East River. From below in the
streets came the rattle of hurrying omnibuses and the rush of the
hansom cabs. If Mr. Caruthers was surprised at this late visit, he hid it,
and came forward to receive his caller as if his presence were expected.
"Excuse my costume, will you?" he said. "I turned in rather early
to-night, it was so hot." He pointed to a decanter and some soda bottles
on the table and a bowl of ice, and asked, "Will you have some of
this?" And while he opened one of the bottles, he watched Van Bibber's
face as though he were curious to have him explain the object of his
visit. "No, I think not, thank you," said the younger man. He touched
his forehead with his handkerchief nervously. "Yes, it is hot," he said.
Mr. Caruthers filled a glass with ice and brandy and soda, and walked

back to his place by the mantel, on which he rested his arm, while he
clinked the ice in the glass and looked down into it.
"I was at the first night of `The Sultana' this evening," said Van Bibber,
slowly and uncertainly.
"Oh, yes," assented the elder man, politely, and tasting his drink.
"Lester's new piece. Was it any good?"
"I don't know," said Van Bibber. "Yes, I think it was. I didn't see it
from the front. There were a lot of children in it--little ones; they
danced and sang, and made a great hit. One of them had never been on
the stage before. It was her first appearance."
He was turning one of the glasses around between his fingers as he
spoke. He stopped, and poured out some of the soda, and drank it down
in a gulp, and then continued turning the empty glass between the tips
of his fingers.
"It seems to me," he said, "that it is a great pity." He looked up
interrogatively at the other, but Mr. Caruthers met his glance without
any returning show of interest. "I say," repeated Van Bibber--"I say it
seems a pity that a child like that