Geraldine Bonner

“ Why should people so desire to make the house they occupied appear deserted? There was mystery about the place. Joan scented it, and grew all alert and deeply observant.
One of her keenest ambitions in relation to this secretive dwelling was to look into the garden behind the high fence, above which rose the branches of black, leafless trees. If the front of the house told no tales, in the garden she might catch a glimpse of the silent and surreptitious inhabitants who lived their hidden lives behind the impenetrable mask of those dreary walls. ”

“ A block was traversed in silence. At the next crossing they would emerge into more populous streets, where the glare of show windows illuminated the pavement with a searching light. Already the wayfarers had grown more numerous, and through the lamp-pierced darkness, so clear and thin, with its clarifying ingredient of frost, they could see the shadowy, flitting figures passing over the crossing at the end of the block.
A last expansion of desperate courage rose in Joan. ”

“ We survey humanity in the mass. We benefit it in the mass—with drastic measures, it is true. Come, hurry! We are nearly there.”
“But, oh, listen, listen!” implored Joan, speaking in a thick, breathless voice, and hanging heavily on her companion’s arm. “Don’t go! Don’t do it! Cross town with me, and let us throw the bag into the river. Come, we have time. Come, think of the crime we are about to commit. Oh, for Heaven’s sake, have some humanity in you, and come!”
They had turned the corner into the brightly-lit thoroughfare. The passers-by jostled against them on the pavement. ”

“ She started sharply, gave Joan a piercing look, almost terrified in its keen intensity, and said, “You’re right. I was almost forgetting. I don’t know what I am doing. The cause first, everything else second. I have fallen almost as low as Alexander.” She put her hand to her head as if to try and concentrate her thoughts, then gave a little laugh and said, “You seem a better member of the order than I. How much time have we?”
As if in answer to this question, the single note of the half-hour boomed solemnly from a clock-tower near by.
“Give me the bag,” said Vittoria. ”

“ I don’t want to leave the bag. It is a crime, and I don’t want to be a criminal.”
The other, tightening her hold on Joan’s arm, said softly, ““So—so—I knew it! I saw it in your face at the first glance. Oh, Alexander—fool, fool, fool!”
“I was the fool,” cried Joan despairingly: ‘‘I was the fool, to ever consent to such a thing as this! To be a murderer, so young, so—so ... Oh, what can I do to save them?”
“Go on,” said Vittoria, smiling; “you amuse me, and I shall take such pleasure in telling all this to Alexander, and showing him how true and sound his judgment is.” ”

“ Fools and children are not held responsible for the harm they do. But Alexander, so high in our order, so great a figure, a man almost knelt to, chosen to sway the destinies of mankind—to choose you, that any child could see was unfitted for such a task, and to dupe me! Oh!” she uttered the sound through her closed teeth with the fury of a baffled animal.
“The bag!” cried Joan again. “Do you want us both to be killed? The bag!” ”

“ In the glare of the lights Vittoria, for a moment, seemed to hesitate, spying up and down with an air of mildly foolish indecision. Then she moved forward quickly, her arm linked in Joan’s, passed two of the long platforms branching out like fingers between the rails, and turned down the third. There were some baggage men and railway employés about, and a few scattered individuals lounging up and down, evidently waiting for the incoming special, now almost due. Midway up the length of the platform stood a little pile of hand luggage—two bags, a valise, and, surmounting these, a bird-cage. ”

“ The feeling of the strong, muscular hand clinched about her wrist was even faintly unreal.
Then, at the top of the stairs, hustled by many passengers, dazed by the clashing of the gates, and the guards’ and gatemen’s harsh cries, bewildered by the dazzling burst of crude yellow light that flashed in her eyes from head lights and lamps backed by reflectors, she felt herself drawn forcibly onward and pressed in the crowd against Vittoria’s back. Here, her lips almost against the Italian’s ears, she breathed, with all her agonised soul in the words, ‘Oh, turn back, turn back! ”

“ What does it matter whether she looks foreign or not, if she feels and understands? But I wish to Heaven,” he said moodily, staring at the young girl, “Alexander would not always select his emissaries from such young women, who look, who look——” He broke off impatiently, turned away his head with a sharp, annoyed movement, and renewed his tapping with the pen handle.
“If I am to be there before a quarter past six,” said Joan, speaking calmly in her desperation, “I think I had better get ready. I will render myself as inconspicuous as possible by tying a veil over my head. ”

“ Down below, silvery grey, spotted with opaque circles of lamplight, lay the little park sleeping in the shining frost, all its bare black trees stretching up their arms, etched against the sparklings of the frost, into the still starlight. The street, as they hastened down the stairs, looked grey and cold; and each hurrying wayfarer, the women with muffs raised to their faces, the men with upturned coat-collars, breathed forth a little cloud of smoke. ”

“ Reading became Joan’s principal pleasure and occupation. Her uncle, a kindly man who was fond of her, gave her a ticket to a large library, and thither she constantly repaired, and spent many happy hours hunting out treasures of exciting travel, also novels of darkly intricate plot enlivened by an affluence of adventurous incident. ”

“ Dreams had once been; but as Joan advanced toward twenty and then passed it, she began to realise the iron power that the conventionalities exercise over the destinies of handsome young females of orphaned condition, whom custom has ordained shall be neither navigators, explorers, nor pioneers. ”

“ Drawing her veil about her face with trembling hands, she rapidly descended the stairs, and entering the room, said abruptly, “Come, I must hurry. It is nearly a quarter past five, and I want to walk slowly, for if I hurry, carrying that heavy bag, I shall get out of breath and may attract attention.”
“Quite right,” said Deacon, handing her the bag: “take care not to bump it against anything. Remember, it will stop the clock.”
She seized the handle, and murmuring some incoherent words of farewell, moved toward the door. They followed her out to the hall. ”

“ It was the woman who said at length, slowly, without envy or admiration, and as though stating a deleterious fact, “She’s pretty.”
“Yes,” said the younger man, with discontented emphasis: “she is pretty.”
“Alexander said something about that,” said the man designated as Deacon.
“It’s such an unfortunate defect in Alexander that he seems to be unable to see force and capabilities in women unless they happen to be good-looking. It’s his one defect,” said the younger man, speaking with languid bitterness.
“You are well dressed too,” said Deacon, now addressing Joan—“too well dressed. ”

“ Her visits to the library were now undertaken solely for the purpose of surreptitiously surveying the garden. From her perch on the top of the ladder she eagerly scanned that dreary enclosure, studying every detail, seeking for some clue to the occupation and identity of the dwellers in this sedulously guarded seclusion. One day her ocular explorations were rewarded by the discovery of what was evidently a name written along the side of one of the broken packing-cases. ”

“ Take care of a concussion, that’s all. There is not the least danger of explosion by concussion. The dynamite is mixed with a small percentage of camphor, and is insensible to shock. It explodes by means of a detonating cap composed of mercury fulminate. But a blow may put the clock attachment out, so be careful how you carry it.”
He went into the inner room and returned with the bag Joan had seen on the table. It was the largest size usually carried by a lady, and was of a neat and modest make. He opened it and looked in. Joan stole a glance at the clock. It was now a few minutes past five. ”

“ There are members of the force that know us all. The risk was too great.”
“She knows all that,” said the woman, interrupting with abrupt impatience. “Now, of course, Alexander gave you full instructions of how he thought you'd better go? I suggested a cab—walk to Union Square and take a cab, and just drive quietly up there.”
“Alexander’s plan was better,” said Deacon,—“to go by the Elevated Road. A lady with a bag in her hand enters the Grand Central Depot from the elevated train, loiters up the platform, and sets the bag down on a pile of baggage on one side of the platform ”

“ But this would involve her own arrest, possibly some difficulty in proving her own guiltlessness, newspaper notoriety, a scandal, a sensation with herself as heroine. That would be her last resource. A thousand times better, if possible, to rid herself of her horrible burden without assistance or consultation. ”