Earl Derr Biggers

“ I came back to Adelphi Terrace in the hot, reeking August dusk, reflecting that the mystery in which I was involved was, after a fashion, standing still. In front of our house I noticed a taxi waiting. I thought nothing of it as I entered the murky hallway and climbed the familiar stairs.
My door stood open. It was dark in my study, save for the reflection of the lights of London outside. As I crossed the threshold there came to my nostrils the faint sweet perfume of lilacs. There are no lilacs in our garden, and if there were it is not the season. ”

“ It's San Marco or bust."
"If only something doesn't bust," Minot said.
Again they were plowing through the sand. The girl sat anxiously on the edge of the seat, her cheeks flaming, her eyes alight. Minot watched her. And suddenly all the happy, sad little memories melted into a golden glow—the glow of being alive—on this lonesome road—with her! Then suddenly he knew! This was the one girl, the girl of all the world, the girl he should love while the memory of her lasted, which would be until the eyes that looked upon her now were dust. ”

“ YOU may have met them drifting along Broadway—men whose names were once in the lights, women who were the toast of the town. Something, they tell you, is gone from their theater; something they find it hard to define. But they who have followed it from Union Square to Madison, thence north to Herald and finally to Long Acre, feel that in each of the neighborhoods it deserted it left a little of its glamour, a little of its romance. They shake their heads and travel on, seeking one more engagement, one more opportunity to wrest a living from their profession before the final curtain falls. ”

“ He walked along the beach, savagely kicking his toes into the white sand. "Johnnie!" She had called him Johnnie. And the way she had looked at him, too! Again John Quincy felt that sharp pang in his heart. Foolish, foolish; better go back to Boston and forget. Peaceful old Boston, that was where he belonged. He was an old man out here—thirty, nearly. Better go away and leave these children to love and the moonlit beach.
Miss Minerva had gone in the big car to call on friends, and the house was quiet as the tomb. John Quincy wandered aimlessly about the rooms, gloomy and bereft. ”

“ And when, later, Nina had traveled out to Suburban Garden and seen Mr. Prince strut through the scenes of many plays beloved of women, in all the gold braid trappings of foreign courts, she had gasped in admiration. Once or twice it had been Mr. King's unhappy fate to sit beside her while Mr. Prince overcame villains and strode majestically on to clasp finally in his arms the peroxide lady in white. At such times no quantity of statistics tending to prove the fickleness of actors, though freely offered by Mr. King, could dim the glory of Morton Prince in Nina's eyes. ”

“ Jane looked into the sympathetic eyes of the ambassador's wife, and what she found there was like a draft of water to her parched soul. The elder woman, smiling down into the white face, wherein the large brown eyes burned unnaturally bright, saw a trembling of the lips instantly conquered by a rallying will, and she patted the small hand hearteningly.
"Dear lady," Jane began, almost as a little child, "I must get out of Paris, and I've come to you to help me. Every way is closed except through you." ”

“ Debonairly out of the fog walked Parker, the ship’s doctor, humming a tune as he walked. He stopped and stared at me. A fine sight I must have been, too—wild-eyed, with evening clothes, no overcoat, no hat.
“Good lord, Winthrop!” he said. “What’s happened to you?”
There was no friendliness in his tone, and it came to me suddenly—a sickening premonition—that this was the last man it was good for me to meet just now. I resolved to make the best of my plight.
“Parker, a terrible thing has happened. Old man Drew has been murdered.” ”

“ To Minot, fresh from Broadway, it all seemed like a colorful dream. They climbed to the highest point and sat, swinging their legs over the edge. Far below the bright blue waters broke on the lower walls.
"It's a funny country down here," Paddock said slowly. "A sort of too-good-to-be-true, who-believes-it place. Bright and gay and full of green palms, and so much like a musical comedy you keep waiting all the time for the curtain to go down and the male population to begin its march up the aisle. ”

“ Perhaps—said Walters—his wife remembered the date. He left me in the lower hall while he went to ask her.
Waiting, I strolled to the rear of the hall. And then, through an open window that let in the summer, I saw for the first time that courtyard which is my great love in London—the old ivy-covered walls of brick; the neat paths between the blooming beds; the rustic seat; the magic gate. It was incredible that just outside lay the world’s biggest city, with all its poverty and wealth, its sorrows and joys, its roar and rattle. ”

“ The temper of the country became more serious; Cleek was forgotten, while the crimes of Germany on the sea grew as the sincerity of her promises faded. War was on the horizon, and Cleek was nowhere. Despair and bitterness overwhelmed him as he sank farther and farther from sight.
Cleek was tasting the very dregs of obscurity on that memorable April evening when the head of the nation appeared before Congress with a message that will live forever in the annals of free men. ”

“ Madame Casserole, ensconced once more within her little cage, was taking stock of change. In the kitchen Adolphe, master of cooks, had buckled on his apron, and the first faint odors of heavenly dishes stole out among the snowy tables.
Monsieur Casserole entered madame's cage, and drew from beneath her counter a bulky ledger.
“To-night,” he said gravely, “it must be done.”
Madame Casserole's famous smile disappeared from its accustomed place above the many chins.
“It is their time,” she murmured, gazing at the clock, “always they are the first to come.” ”

“ Up above them the great trees of Baldpate Mountain waved their black arms constantly as though sparring with the storm. At the foot of the buried roadway they could see the lamps of Upper Asquewan Falls; under those lamps prosaic citizens were hurrying home with the supper groceries through the night. And not one of those citizens was within miles of guessing that up on the balcony of Baldpate Inn a young man had seized a young woman's hand, and was saying wildly: "Beautiful girl—I love you."
Yet that was exactly what Billy Magee was doing. The girl had turned her face away. ”

“ For from the shadows of the landing Professor Bolton emerged, his blasted derby once more on his head, his overcoat buttoned tight, his ear-muffs in place, his traveling-bag and green umbrella in tow.
"What, Professor," cried Magee, "you're leaving?"
Now, truly, the end of the drama had come. Mr. Magee felt his heart beat wildly. What was the end to be? What did this calm departure mean? Surely the little man descending the stair was not, Daniel-like, thrusting himself into this lion's den with the precious package in his possession? ”

“ I want to see the West. I hate New York, I hate it. It's crowded, cruel, horrible. I want to get out on the broad plains, where there's enough of God's air for all. But I never will. I'll just have to go on reading—and reading—and maybe talking about it now and then. Say—what is the West like—anyhow?”
Bob Garwood, the stranger, lighted a match and held it for a second so that its light shone into the pinched, city-pale face of William Parker. Then he applied it to his cigaret and tossed it to the grass. ”

“ Romance—it is here—at your feet in Baldpate Inn. A man climbs the mountain to be alone with his thoughts, to forget the melodrama of life, to get away from the swift action of the world, and meditate. He is alone—for very near an hour. Then a telephone bell tinkles, and a youth rises out of the dark to prate of a lost Arabella, and haberdashery. A shot rings out, as the immemorial custom with shots, and in comes a professor of Comparative Literature, with a perforation in his derby hat. A professional hermit arrives to teach the amateur the fine points of the game. ”

“ TO her there came Cynthia Meyrick, radiant and lovely and wide-eyed on the eve of her wedding.
"How sweet you look, Cynthia," said the duchess graciously. "But then, you long ago solved the problem of what becomes you."
"I have to look as sweet as I can," replied the girl wearily. "All the rest of my life I shall have to try and live up to the nobility."
She sighed.
"To think," remarked the duchess, busy over a great bowl of flowers, "that to-morrow night this time little Cynthia will be Lady Harrowby. I suppose you'll go to Rakedale Hall for part of the year at least?" ”

“ She was waiting—waiting for a hat. Waiting for the hat that could make her happy for life—the hat of her dreams. What hat? She did not know. The whole affair was clouded in mists. But she knew that the hat would come, the hat that was meant for her, and that she would recognize its coming.
An odd view of the great experience was this, but men had come to mean to Myra Pearson nothing but hats. Henceforth, in the moments when she sat alone by her hat-stand, she listened no longer to the light opera airs that drifted out from the dining-room, to the popping of corks on the Middle West's wine. ”

“ Beyond, in the road-stead, loomed the battered hulk of an old brig slowly moving toward the channel entrance. Always, out there, a ship or two, in from the East with a cargo of spice or tea or ivory, or eastward bound with a load of tractor salesmen. Ships of all sorts, the spic and span liner and the rakish tramp, ships from Melbourne and Seattle, New York and Yokohama, Tahiti and Rio, any port on the seven seas. For this was Honolulu, the Crossroads of the Pacific—the glamourous crossroads where, they said, in time all paths crossed again. Miss Minerva sighed. ”

“ He watched the taxi trundle down the brilliant mirror of Unter den Linden, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. Then he turned back to the world of light and perfume and wine—the world from which he had been barred these many months and for which the starved body of him had cried out in agony. His glass stood brimming; money crinkled in his pocket; there were eyes for him and fair white shoulders. Billy Capper, discredited spy, had come to his own once more. ”

“ Slyly—in the telegraph dispatches—spring crept upon the city, and violets bloomed at last in other quarters than the windows of expensive florists. And, best of all, the lady of Mr. King's choice had signified her approval of him, and the dreamed-of flat had advanced almost as far as a quarrel over the color of the parlor wallpaper. Far, very far from Mr. King's thoughts at that moment, were Morton Prince and the gold trappings of his heart-breaking calling.
But once more we find the course of true love tritely disturbed. ”

“ That night in this room I saw his triumph blazing deep in his eyes. I hated him. I hated Su, his partner. Evil men, both of them, as like in their wickedness as the twin blossoms of the pear are like in beauty. Between them they had robbed me, and I swore that the instant I was free I would kill them both. Today brought my freedom, and to-night I kept my oath.”
“You waited ten years!” said Mark Drew softly.
“Why not?” said Hung. “Was I not bound by the chains of my honorable promise?”
Detective Barnes was reaching for those chill cuffs of steel that had lately been on my wrists. ”

“ Monsieur Casserole circulated among his guests. At one table only, sadness lingered.
Antoine set down his glass and spoke loudly.
“It is carried too far,” he cried. “It is an outrage to sensitive souls unbearable. Let us—”
“Enough,” Perrin admonished. “Our sorrow is our own.” He leaned across the table. “For some time,” he whispered, “I have noticed that the gentleman at the table behind you—he of the impressive waistcoat and crimson face—listens to our talk. Let us say no more.”
Antoine accepted the suggestion, and silence again fell at the table of genius. ”

“ Beautiful, yes—but she fidgeted. She had fidgeted madly in the station at Jacksonville during that hour's wait; now even more madly she bounced about on that plush seat. She opened and shut magazines, she straightened her pleasant little hat, she gazed in agony out the window. Beauty such as hers should have been framed in a serene and haughty dignity. Hers happened to be framed in a frenzy of fidget.
In its infinite wisdom, the train saw fit to start again. With a sigh of relief, the girl sank back upon her seat of torture. Mr. Minot turned again to the uneventful landscape. ”

“ He returned to the lanai. There, under a mosquito netting, was the cot where he preferred to sleep; his dressing-room was near at hand. However, it was too early for bed. He stepped through the door on to the beach. Unmistakable, the soft treacherous breath of the Kona fanned his cheek—the "sick wind" that would pile the breakers high along the coast and blight temporarily this Island paradise. There was no moon, the stars that usually seemed so friendly and so close were now obscured. The black water rolled in like a threat. ”

“ It's the night before election, and I'm standing in the front window of the little room on Main Street where the boys can always find me. Down the street I hear the snarl and rumble of bands, and pretty soon I see the yellow flicker of torches, like the flicker of that candle, and the bobbing of banners. And then—the boys march by. All the boys! Pat Doherty, and Bob Larsen, and Matt Sanders—all the boys! And when they get to my window they wave their hats and cheer. Just a fat old man in that window, but they'll go to the pavement with any guy that knocks him. They're loyal. ”

“ Now I had youth. “My boy, you don't know what you've got.” Oh, yes, I do. Youth—and Mary Will. She, too, must be mine. She had looked wonderful. Where was she? Was I to be left alone forever with the confounded clock?
Suddenly from across the hall came a cry, sharp, uncanny, terrible. I ran out in the direction from which it had come and stood on the threshold of the Drew dining room. Another room of many memories, of stern faces on the wall. A table was set with gleaming silver and white linen, and in its center stood a cake, on which fifty absurd pink candles flickered bravely. ”