Margaret Cameron

“ He was sufficiently well known socially to make this escapade a rich morsel for the sensational Beacon and he saw his name in its blackest head-lines and pictures of himself taken from every conceivable angle. Then his glance fell on a coal-shovel. He looked at the coal, which had apparently been dumped in recently, with the intention of distributing it later among the various empty bins, and then down at his worn overalls—and his resolution was taken. ”

“ Not yet! I mustn't cry—yet! Go up-stairs! Hurry! Fresh towels in the bath-room—Bob's chiffonier for anything else you need! Hurry!"
He took the back stairs three at a leap; and having paused for a moment's readjustment after that first kiss, Miss Vance returned to the hall, where the guests were excitedly discussing the dramatic little scene and asking questions about the handsome young Italian. Mrs. Trent looked at her sister once and bore down upon her without loss of time.
"Polly!" she exclaimed, in an indescribable tone. "Go and wash your face! There's coal-dust on it!" ”

“ Good night," said Pierce, and hung up the receiver.
He explained to Cotes in terse, elemental phrases that his alleged employer had never heard of him, and that the coal merchants had no intention of providing men to do the work he claimed to have been sent to perform. Giuseppe swore, per Baccho and per Dio, that it was all one grand mistake. He was an honest man, he; and the padrone had certainly told him to come on the morrow to the house of the most illustrious signore to "shova da coal." ”

“ Your consideration is touching," said Pierce, dryly. He continued to watch the supposed Italian closely, and Cotes smiled cheerfully and confidingly back at him. "What's your name?" finally demanded the editor.
"Giuseppe Coppini, Signore."
"How did you get in?" As this elicited only a polite and inquiring shrug, he changed the form of his question. "Did you come in that window?"
"Si, Signore." The laborer laughed. "I maka lika dees—e lika dees," he rang a bell and knocked in pantomime, "ma no! Nessuno! Ma il padrone tella me shova da coal. Ecc'!" He paused, ingratiating, smiling, eloquent. ”

“ As he had supposed, he was in the division of the cellar containing the furnace and coal-bins. He had some difficulty in lighting the next match, for the passage he had now entered was draughty, but eventually he kept one alight long enough to descry a flight of steps a few feet to his right.
"Aha!" said he. "‘"We are saved!" the Captain shouted.' Now we'll proceed to stagger up the stair. The rest is plain sailing."
He gaily climbed the steps, humming under his breath the tune the banjo was playing, and fumbled for the door-knob. ”

“ It's a little too near election—understand? Bad time to antagonize the proletariat.... He's a decent-looking young chap with a mighty steady eye.... Who?... Where?"
Cotes had worked the envelop to the very edge of the table. Now he turned slowly, feigning interest in the decoration of the wall behind him, until his left side was against the table, and then, as quickly as was consistent with caution, pushed the envelop up under his loose blouse. He thought longingly of the hip pocket so near at hand, but dared not bend his elbow to touch it, for fear of arousing Pierce's further suspicions. ”

“ He puzzled over it for a moment, then looked at Polly in startled inquiry, and she nodded slightly. Trent turned very pale.
"Yes? And then?" He seemed to speak with difficulty, and crumpled the envelop in his grasp.
"Then she said that you all knew the man and could vouch for him, and insisted upon my bringing him over here."
"She did quite right. We are under—some obligation to Giuseppe. He once did me—a service—a great service. I assure you, Mr. Pierce, that the man is entirely trustworthy. ”

“ You see, I found him in my cellar."
"In your cellar!" Her dismay was unquestionably genuine, but only the man who had heard her parting words in Trent's garden could fully interpret it.
"Si," sullenly admitted Giuseppe. "I shova da coal. Il padrone, she tella me shova da coal." Bewildered by this turn of events, she looked to Pierce for an explanation, which he readily supplied.
"He insists that his padrone sent him to distribute my coal into bins, but, unfortunately for him, the padrone—Fred Jones—has just assured me over the 'phone that he didn't. In fact, he never heard of him." ”

“ He laughed again. "Only, whatever else you do, keep cool! Nothing's going to happen."
This philosophical conviction Cotes did not fully share. In the next ten seconds he saw an appalling kinetoscopic panorama of the things that probably would happen should he be caught in Pierce's cellar. He saw that he must either tell the truth and involve Trent, which would never do, or he must let it be supposed that he had entered the editor's house for reasons of his own, which would be difficult to explain. ”

“ He deposited the lantern on the floor and proceeded to don the trousers, pulling them over the tails of his evening coat, which the short blouse would not protect. "I suppose these belong to the man who tends the furnace, eh? Good job for me he isn't a woman! Anyhow, coal won't hurt 'em." He had one arm slipped into a sleeve and was reaching for the other when he heard a feminine voice cautiously calling:
"Mr. Pierce! Oh, Mr. Pierce!"
"Yes?" was the prompt reply.
"There's a man in your cellar!" ”

“ But when you 'phone me in the midst of a busy day to fill a sudden vacancy in a dinner-party, if you have any antipathies like this you'd better mention them, for naturally I'm going to ask the first eligible chap I see. Anyway, what's the matter with Cotes? He's much in demand as a dinner guest. ”

“ There's nothing in the spectacle of two men walking quietly along the street—one of them evidently a day laborer—there's absolutely nothing in that to excite the alarm of a girl of your sort and make her demand an explanation, unless—" he paused a moment, looked fixedly at her, and concluded, "unless she expected to see that man come alone." Polly lifted a quick hand of warning, whether for him or for his companion Pierce could not decide; and when she spoke her manner was haughty, but her voice shook—possibly from anger, possibly from fear.
"I am Miss Vance," she stated. "Mr. Trent—Mr. ”

“ She perceived, however, that there was a part he wished her to play, in which she must not fail, and that the newspaper man was watching them both.
"Where are you going?" she asked, in a voice that still shook. ”