The Avalanche by Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton (ink book reader txt) 📖

The Lookout For.

 

Ruyler, If His Mind Had Been Less Harrowed With The Looming And Possibly

Dire Climax Of His Own Secret Drama, Would Have Laughed Aloud At This

Melodramatic Entrance To The Grounds Of One Of His Most Intimate Friends.

He And Spaulding Had Walked From The Train, But They Were Not Detained As

Long As A Gay Party Of Young People From Atherton, Who Teased The Police

By Refusing To Present Their Cards Or Lift Their Masks. Ruyler Knew Them

All, But They Finally Sped Past Him Without Even A Glance Of Contempt For

Mere Foot Passengers, Even Though They Looked Like A Couple Of Dodging

Conspirators.

 

He Had Met Spaulding At The Station In San Francisco, And Private

Conversation On The Crowded Train Had Been Impossible. When They Had

Walked A Few Yards Along The Wide Avenue, As Brilliant As Day With Its

Thousands Of Colored Lights Concealed In The Astonished Pines, Ruyler Sat

Deliberately Down Upon A Bench And Motioned The Detective To Take The

Seat Beside Him.

 

"It Is Time You Gave Me Some Sort Of A Hint," He Said. "After All, It Is

My Affair--"

 

"I Know, But As I Said, You Might Not Approve My Methods, And If You

Balk, All Is Up. We've Got The Chance Of Our Lives. It's Now Or Never."

 

"I Do Not At All Like The Idea That You May Be Forcing Me Into A Position

Where I May Find Myself Doing Something I Shall Be Ashamed Of For The

Rest Of My Life."

 

Ruyler's Tone Was Haughty. He Did Not Relish Being Led Round By The Nose,

And His Nerves Were Jumping.

 

"Now! Now!" Said Spaulding Soothingly, As He Lit A Cigar. "When You Hire

A Detective You Hire Him To Do Things You Wouldn't Do Yourself; And If

You Won't Give Him The Little Help He's Got To Have From You Or Quit,

What's The Use Of Hiring Him At All?

 

"I Know Perfectly Well That Nothing But Your Own Eyes Would Convince You

Of What It's Up To Me To Prove--To Say Nothing Of The Fact That I Count

On Your Entrance At The Last Minute To Put An End To The Whole Bad

Business. For It Is A Bad Business--Believe Me. But Not A Word Of That

Now. You Couldn't Pry Open My Lips With A Five Dollar Havana."

 

"Well--You Say You Had A Talk With Madame Delano To-Day. Surely You Can

Tell Me Some Of The Things You Have Discovered."

 

"A Whole Lot. I've Been Waiting For The Chance. Not That I Got Anything

Out Of Her. She's One Grand Bluffer And No Mistake. I Take Off My Hat To

Her. When I Told Her That I Could Lay Hands On The Proof That She Was

Marie Garnett--Although Jim Had Married Her In His Home Town Under His

Own Name--And That She'd Gone Home To France With The Kid When It Was

Five, Taking The Cue From Her Friend, Mrs. Lawton, And Sending Word Back

She Was Dead--"

 

"You Were Equally Sure A Few Days Ago That She Was Mrs. Lawton--"

 

"That Was Just My Constructive Imagination On The Loose. It Was A Lovely

Theory, And I Sort Of Hung On To It. But I Had No Real Data To Go On. Now

I've Got The Evidence That Jim Garnett Died Two Months Before The Fire

Burnt Up Pretty Nearly All The Records, And That His Body Was Shipped

Back To Holbrook Centre To Be Buried In The Family Plot. You See, He Was

Sick For Some Time Out On Pacific Avenue, And His Death Was Registered

Where The Fire Didn't Go--"

 

"But What Put You On?" Asked Ruyler Impatiently. "I Should Almost Rather

It Had Been Any One Else. He Seems To Have Been About As Bad A Lot As

Even This Town Ever Turned Out."

 

"He Was, All Right, And His Father Before Him, Although They Came From

Mighty Fine Folks Back East. His Father Came Out In '49 With The Gold

Rush Crowd, Panned Out A Good Pile, And Then, Liking The Life--San

Francisco Was A Gay Little Burg Those Days--Opened One Of The Crack

Gambling Houses Down On The Old Plaza. Plate Glass Windows You Could Look

Through From Outside If You Thought It Best To Stay Out, And See Hundreds

Of Men Playing At Tables Where The Gold Pieces--Often Slugs--Were Piled

As High As Their Noses, And Hundreds More Walking Up And Down The Aisles

Either Waiting For A Chance To Sit, Or Hoping To Appease Their Hunger

With The Sight Of So Much Gold. They Didn't Try Any Funny Business, For

Every Gambler Had A Six-Shooter In His Hip Pocket, And Sometimes On The

Table Beside Him.

 

"Sometimes Men Would Walk Out And Shoot Themselves On The Sidewalk In

Front Of The Windows, And Not A Soul Inside Would So Much As Look Up.

Well, Delano The First Had A Short Life But A Merry One. He Couldn't Keep

Away From The Tables Himself, And First Thing He Knew He Was Broke, Sold

Up. He Went Back To The Mines, But His Luck Had Gone, And His Wife--She

Had Followed Him Out Here--Persuaded Him To Go Back Home And Live In The

Old House, On A Little Income She Had; And He Bored All The Neighbors To

Death For A Few Years About 'Early Days In California' Until He Dropped

Off. Her Name Was Mary Garnett.

 

"That's What Put Me On--The G. In The Middle Of The Name Of The Man

Madame Delano Married. I Telegraphed To Holbrook Centre To Find Out What

His Middle Name Was, And After That It Was Easy. I Also Found Out That He

Was Born In California, And I Guess That Old Wild Life Was In His Blood.

He Stood Holbrook Centre Until He Was Sixteen, And Then Homed Back And

Took Up The Trade He Just Naturally Had Inherited.

 

"I Figger Out That He Didn't Tell His Wife The Truth When He Married Her

Back There, Not Until He Was On The Train Pretty Close To S.F., And Then

He Told Her Because He Couldn't Help Himself. She Couldn't Help Herself,

Either, And Besides She Was In Love With Him. He Was A Handsome,

Distinguished Lookin' Chap, And He Kept Right On Bein' A Fascinator As

Long As He Lived.

 

"I Guess That's The Reason She Left Him In The End. She Stood For The

Gambling Joint, And, Although She Had A Cool Sarcastic Way With Her That

Kept The Men Who Fell For Her At A Distance, She Was A Good Decoy, And

She Looked A Regular Queen At The Head Of The Green Table. She Was Chummy

With Jim's Intimates, Two Of Whom Were D.V. Bimmer And 'Gene Bisbee, But

Even 'Gene Didn't Dare Take Any Liberties With Her.

 

"It Was Natural That A Woman Brought Up As She Had Been Should Have Kept

Her Child Out Of It, And I Figger That She Got Disgusted With Jim And

Came To The Full Sense Of Her Duty To The Poor Kid About The Same Time.

But She Didn't Go Until Jim Settled So Much A Month On Her Through Old

Lawton--Who Used To Amuse Himself At Garnett's A Good Deal In Those Days,

And Who Was One Of Her Best Friends.

 

"Well, She Also Got Garnett To Make A Curious Sort Of A Will, Leaving His

Money To James Lawton, To 'Dispose Of As Agreed Upon.' She Had A Thrifty

Business Head, Had That French Dame, And She Had Made Him Buy Property

When He Was Flush, And Put It In Her Name, Although She Gave A Written

Agreement Never To Sell Out As Long As He Lived.

 

"He Agreed To Let Her Go Because He Was Dippy About Another Skirt At The

Time, And, Besides, She Played On His Family Pride--Lineal Descendant Of

The Delanos, Garnetts, And So Forth. He'd Never Seen The Kid After It Was

Taken To The Convent, But I Guess He Liked The Idea, All Right, Of Its

Being Brought Up Wearing The Old Name, And Gettin' Rid Of Marie At The

Same Time.

 

"She Was Too Canny To Leave Him A Loophole For Divorce, Even In

California; But I Guess That Didn't Worry Him Much.

 

"If The Earthquake And Fire Hadn't Come So Soon After The Will Was

Probated There Might Have Been A Lot Of Speculation About It, Among Men,

At Least. Those Old Gossips In The Club Windows Would Soon Have Been

Putting Two And Two Together; But The Calamity That Burnt Up All The Club

Windows, Just Swept It Clean Out Of Their Heads.

 

"I Figger Out That Old Lawton Continued To Pay Madame Delano The Income

She'd Been Havin' Both From Jim And Her Properties, Out Of His Own

Pocket, Until The City Was Rebuilt And He Could Settle The Estate. He Had

To Borrow The Money To Rebuild The Houses Jim Had Put Up On His Wife's

Property, And When Things Got To A Certain Pass He Wrote Madame D. To

Come Along And Take Over Her Property. She'll Be Good And Rich One Of

These Days, When All The Mortgages Are Paid Off And Lawton Paid Back, But

It Was Wise For Her To Stay On The Job. Lawton Is Dead Straight, But His

Partner Is Sowing Wild Oats In His Old Age--Good Old S.F. Style, And I

Guess It Ain't Wise To Tempt Him Too Far. Get Me?"

 

"It's Atrocious!"

 

"Oh, Not Nearly So Bad As It Might Be. Just Think, If It Had Been

Gabrielle, Or Pauline-Marie, Or Even Mrs. Lawton. That's The Worst Kind

Of Bad Blood For A Woman To Inherit. Marie Garnett Hung On Like Grim

Death To What The Grand Society You Move In Pretends To Value Most, And

The Lord Knows She'll Never Lose It Now.

 

"Nor Need There Be Any Scandal To Drive Your Family To Suicide. The Thing

To Do Is To Hustle Madame Delano Out Of San Francisco. She'll Go, All

Right, With You To Look After Her Interests. She Don't Fancy Being

Recognized And Blackmailed, Or I Miss My Guess. You May Have To Pay

Bisbee Something, But D. V.'S Not That Sort, And I Don't Think Anybody

Else Is On. If They've Suspected They'll Soon Forget It When The Old Lady

Disappears From The Palace Hotel. Gee, But She Has A Nerve."

 

"She Is An Old Cynic. If She Had Any Snobbery In Her She'd Be Here

To-Night, Rubbing Elbows With The Women Who Never Knew Of Her Existence

Twenty Years Ago, Although Their Husbands Did. It Has Satisfied Her

Ironic French Soul To Sit In The Court Of The Palace Hotel Day After Day

And Defy San Francisco To Recognize Marie Garnett In The Obese Madame

Delano, Whose Daughter Is One Of The Great Ladies Of The City To Whose

Underworld She Once Belonged, And From Whose Filthy Profits She Derives

Her Income. Good God!"

 

He Sat Forward And Clutched His Head, But Spaulding, Who Had Drawn Out

His Watch, Tapped Him On The Shoulder.

 

"Come On," He Said. "Time's Gettin' Short. The Stunt Is To Be Pulled Off

Just Before Supper."

 

Chapter 12

 

I

 

They Walked Rapidly Up The Close Avenue--Planted Far Back In The Fifties

By Ford Thornton's Grandfather--The Blaze Of Light At The End Of The Long

Perspective Growing Wider And Wider. As They Emerged They Paused For A

Moment, Dazzled By The Scene.

 

The Original Home Of The Thorntons Had Been Of Ordinary American

Architecture And Covered With Ivy; It Might Have Been Transplanted From

Some Old Aristocratic Village In The East. Flora Thornton Had Maintained

That Only One Style Of Architecture Was Appropriate In A State Settled By

The Spaniards, And Famous For Its Missions Of Moorish Architecture. Fordy

Loved The Old House, But As He Denied His Wife Nothing He Had Given Her A

Million, Three Years Before The Fire Which So Sadly Diminished Fortunes,

And Told Her To Build Any Sort Of House She Pleased; If She Would Only

Promise To Live In It And Not Desert Him Twice A Year For Europe.

 

The Immense Structure, Standing On A Knoll, Bore A Certain Resemblance To

The Alhambra, With Its