Of course, Maida assented, but her lip trembled and her eyes showed signs of ready tears.
Cheer up, Genevieve babbled on. Im your friend whatever comes with time!
So am I, put in Curtis Keefe. Good-bye for a few days, Miss Wheeler.
How Maida did it, she scarcely knew herself, but she forced a smile, and even when Samuel Appleby gave her a warning glance at parting she bravely responded to his farewell words, and even gaily waved her hand as the car rolled down the drive.
Once out of earshot, Appleby broke out:
I played my trump card! No, you neednt ask me what I was, for I dont propose to tell you. But it will take the trick, Im sure. Why, its got to!
It must be something pretty forcible, then, said Keefe, for it looked to me about as likely as snow in summertime, that any of those rigid Puritans would ever give in an inch to your persuasions.
Or mine, added Genevieve. Never before have I failed so utterly to make any headway when I set out to be really persuasive.
You did your best, Miss Lane, and Appleby looked at her with the air of one appraising the efficiency of a salesman. I confess I didnt think Wheeler would be quite such a hardshell after all these years.
Hes just like concrete, Keefe observed. They all are. I didnt know there were such conscientious people left in this wicked old world!
Theyre not really in the world, Appleby declared. Theyve merely vegetated in that house of theirs, never going anywhere
Oh, come now, Mr. Appleby, and Genevieve shook her head, Boston isnt the only burg on the planet! They often go to New York, and thats going some!
Not really often I asked Wheeler. He hasnt been for five or six years, and though Maida goes occasionally, to visit friends, she soon runs back home to her father.
It doesnt matter, Keefe said, theyre by no means mossbacks or hayseeds. Theyre right there with the goods, when it comes to modern literature or up-to-date news
Oh, yes, theyre a highbrow bunch, Appleby spoke impatiently; but a recluse like that is no sort of a man! The truth is, Im at the end of my patience! Ive got to put this thing over with less palaver and circumlocution. I thought Id give him a chance just put the thing up to him squarely once and, as he doesnt see fit to meet me half-way, hes got to be the loser, thats all.
He seems to be the loser, as it is. This from Keefe.
But nothing to whats coming to him! Why, the idea of my sparing him at all is ridiculous! If he doesnt come down, hes got to be wiped out! Thats what it amounts to!
Wiped out how?
Figuratively and literally! Mentally, morally and physically! Thats how! Ive stood all I can Ive waited long enough too long and now Im going to play the game my own way! As I said, I played a trump card I raised one pretty definite ruction just before we left. Now, that may do the business and, it may not! If not, then desperate measures are necessary and will be used!
Good gracious, Mr. Appleby! Genevieve piped up from her fur collar which nearly muffled her little face. You sound positively murderous!
Murder! Pooh, Id kill Dan Wheeler in a minute, if that would help Sam! But I dont want Wheeler dead I want him alive I want his help his influence yet, when he sits there looking like a stone wall, and about as easy to overthrow, I declare I could kill him! But I dont intend to. Its far more likely hed kill me!
Why? exclaimed Keefe. Why should he? And but youre joking.
Not at all. Wheeler isnt of the murderer type, or Id be taking my life in my hands to go into his house! He hates me with all the strength of a hard, bigoted, but strictly just nature. He thinks I was unjust in the matter of his pardon, he thinks I was contemptible, and false to our old-time friendship; and he would be honestly and truly glad if I were dead. But thank heaven hes no murderer!
Of course not! cried Genevieve. How you do talk! As if murder were an everyday performance! Why, people in our class dont kill each other!
The placid assumption of equality of class with her employer was so consistently Miss Lanes usual attitude, that it caused no mental comment from either of her hearers. Her services were so valuable that any such little idiosyncrasy was tolerated.
Of course we dont often, agreed Appleby, but Id wager a good bit that if Dan Wheeler could bump me off without his conscience knowing it off Id go!
I dont know about that, said Genevieve, musingly but I do believe that girl would do it!
What? cried Keefe. Maida!
Yes; shes a lamb for looks, but shes got a lions heart if anybody ever had one! Talk about a tigress protecting her cubs; it would be a milk-and-water performance beside Maida Wheeler shielding her father or fighting for him yes, or killing somebody for him!
Rubbish! laughed Appleby. Maida might be willing enough, in that lion heart of hers but little girls dont go around killing people.
I know it, and I dont expect her to. But I only say shes capable of it.
Goethe says (Keefe spoke in his superior way) We are all capable of crime, even the best of us.
I remember that phrase, mused Appleby. Is it Goethes? Well, I dont say its literally true, for lots of people are too much of a jellyfish makeup to have such a capability. But I do believe there are lots of strong, forcible people, who are absolutely capable of crime if the opportunity offers.
Thats it, and Genevieve nodded her head wisely. Opportunity is what counts. Ive read detective stories, and they prove it. Be careful, Mr. Appleby, how you trust yourself alone with Mr. Wheeler.
That will do, he reprimanded. I can take care of myself, Miss Lane.
Genevieve always knew when she had gone too far, and, instead of sulking, she tactfully changed the subject and entertained the others with her amusing chatter, at which she was a success.
At that very moment, Maida Wheeler, alone in her room, was sobbing wildly, yet using every precaution that she shouldnt be heard.
Thrown across her bed, her face buried in the pillows, she fairly shook with the intensity of her grief.
But, as often happens, after she had brought her crying spell to a finish and exhausted Nature insists on a finish she rose and bathed her flushed face and sat down to think it out calmly.
Yet the more she thought the less calm she grew.
For the first time in her life she was face to face with a great question which she could not refer to her parents. Always she had confided in them, and matters that seemed great to her, even though trifling in themselves, were invariably settled and straightened out by her wise and loving father or mother.
But now, Samuel Appleby had told her a secret a dreadful secret that she must not only weigh and decide about, but must at least, until she decided keep from her parents.
For, Maida thought, if I tell them, theyll at once insist on knowing who the rightful heir is, theyll give over the place to him and what will become of us?
Her conscience was as active as ever it was, her sense of right and wrong was in no way warped or blunted, but instinct told her that she must keep this matter entirely to herself until she had come to her own conclusion. Moreover, she realized, the conclusion must be her own the decision must be arrived at by herself, and unaided.