Добавил:
ivanov666
Опубликованный материал нарушает ваши авторские права? Сообщите нам.
Вуз:
Предмет:
Файл:The Titan
.pdf
THE TITAN
more of Georgia Timberlake and Ethel Tuckerman. Why this sudden reticence? On one occasion she did say of Forbes Gurney «that
he was having such a hard time, and that his clothes weren’t as nice
as they should be, poor dear!» Stephanie herself, owing to gifts made
to her by Cowperwood, was resplendent these days. She took just
enough to complete her wardrobe according to her taste.
«Why not send him to me?» Cowperwood asked. «I might fi nd
something to do for him». He would have been perfectly willing to
put him in some position where he could keep track of his time.
However, Mr. Gurney never sought him for a position, and Stephanie ceased to speak of his poverty. A gift of two hundred dollars,
which Cowperwood made her in June, was followed by an accidental meeting with her and Gurney in Washington Street. Mr. Gurney,
pale and pleasant, was very well dressed indeed. He wore a pin which
Cowperwood knew had once belonged to Stephanie. She was in no
way confused. Finally Stephanie let it out that Lane Cross, who had
gone to New Hampshire for the summer, had left his studio in her
charge. Cowperwood decided to have this studio watched.
There was in Cowperwood’s employ at this time a young newspaper man, an ambitious spark aged twenty-six, by the name of Francis
Kennedy. He had written a very intelligent article for the Sunday
Inquirer , describing Cowperwood and his plans, and pointing out
what a remarkable man he was. This pleased Cowperwood. When
Kennedy called one day, announcing smartly that he was anxious to
get out of reportorial work, and inquiring whether he couldn’t fi nd
something to do in the street-railway world, Cowperwood saw in
him a possibly useful tool.
«I’ll try you out as secretary for a while», he said, pleasantly.
«There are a few special things I want done. If you succeed in those,
I may fi nd something else for you later».
Kennedy had been working for him only a little while when he
said to him one day: «Francis, did you ever hear of a young man by
the name of Forbes Gurney in the newspaper world?»
They were in Cowperwood’s private offi ce.
241
THEODORE DREISER
«No, sir», replied Francis, briskly.
«You have heard of an organization called the Garrick Players,
haven’t you?»
«Yes, sir».
«Well, Francis, do you suppose you could undertake a little
piece of detective work for me, and handle it intelligently and quietly?»
«I think so», said Francis, who was the pink of perfection this
morning in a brown suit, garnet tie, and sard sleeve-links. His shoes
were immaculately polished, and his young, healthy face glistened.
«I’ll tell you what I want you to do. There is a young actress, or
amateur actress, by the name of Stephanie Platow, who frequents
the studio of an artist named Cross in the New Arts Building.
She may even occupy it in his absence — I don’t know. I want you
to fi nd out for me what the relations of Mr. Gurney and this woman
are. I have certain business reasons for wanting to know».
Young Kennedy was all attention.
«You couldn’t tell me where I could fi nd out anything about this
Mr. Gurney to begin with, could you?» he asked.
«I think he is a friend of a critic here by the name of Gardner
Knowles. You might ask him. I need not say that you must never
mention me».
«Oh, I understand that thoroughly, Mr. Cowperwood». Young
Kennedy departed, meditating. How was he to do this? With
true journalistic skill he fi rst sought other newspaper men, from
whom he learned — a bit from one and a scrap from another — of
the character of the Garrick Players, and of the women who belonged to it. He pretended to be writing a one-act play, which he
hoped to have produced.
He then visited Lane Cross’s studio, posing as a newspaper interviewer. Mr. Cross was out of town, so the elevator man said. His
studio was closed.
Mr. Kennedy meditated on this fact for a moment.
242
THE TITAN
«Does any one use his studio during the summer months?»
he asked.
«I believe there is a young woman who comes here — yes».
«You don’t happen to know who it is?»
«Yes, I do. Her name is Platow. What do you want to know for?»
«Looky here», exclaimed Kennedy, surveying the rather shabby
attendant with a cordial and persuasive eye, «do you want to make
some money — fi ve or ten dollars, and without any trouble to you?»
The elevator man, whose wages were exactly eight dollars
a week, pricked up his ears.
«I want to know who comes here with this Miss Platow, when
they come — all about it. I’ll make it fi fteen dollars if I fi nd out what
I want, and I’ll give you fi ve right now».
The elevator factotum had just sixty-five cents in his pocket at the time. He looked at Kennedy with some uncertainty and
much desire.
«Well, what can I do?» he repeated. «I’m not here after six.
The janitor runs this elevator from six to twelve».
«There isn’t a room vacant anywhere near this one, is there?»
Kennedy asked, speculatively.
The factotum thought. «Yes, there is. One just across the hall».
«What time does she come here as a rule?»
«I don’t know anything about nights. In the day she sometimes
comes mornings, sometimes in the afternoon».
«Anybody with her?»
«Sometimes a man, sometimes a girl or two. I haven’t really paid
much attention to her, to tell you the truth».
Kennedy walked away whistling.
From this day on Mr. Kennedy became a watcher over this very
unconventional atmosphere. He was in and out, principally observing the comings and goings of Mr. Gurney. He found what he
naturally suspected, that Mr. Gurney and Stephanie spent hours
here at peculiar times — after a company of friends had jollifi ed,
for instance, and all had left, including Gurney, when the latter
243
THEODORE DREISER
would quietly return, with Stephanie sometimes, if she had left with
the others, alone if she had remained behind. The visits were of
varying duration, and Kennedy, to be absolutely accurate, kept days,
dates, the duration of the hours, which he left noted in a sealed envelope for Cowperwood in the morning. Cowperwood was enraged,
but so great was his interest in Stephanie that he was not prepared
to act. He wanted to see to what extent her duplicity would go.
The novelty of this atmosphere and its effect on him was astonishing. Although his mind was vigorously employed during the day,
nevertheless his thoughts kept returning constantly. Where was
she? What was she doing? The bland way in which she could lie
reminded him of himself. To think that she should prefer any one
else to him, especially at this time when he was shining as a great
constructive factor in the city, was too much. It smacked of age, his
ultimate displacement by youth. It cut and hurt.
One morning, after a peculiarly exasperating night of thought
concerning her, he said to young Kennedy: «I have a suggestion for
you. I wish you would get this elevator man you are working with
down there to get you a duplicate key to this studio, and see if there
is a bolt on the inside. Let me know when you do. Bring me the key.
The next time she is there of an evening with Mr. Gurney step out
and telephone me».
The climax came one night several weeks after this discouraging
investigation began. There was a heavy yellow moon in the sky, and
a warm, sweet summer wind was blowing. Stephanie had called on
Cowperwood at his offi ce about four to say that instead of staying
down-town with him, as they had casually planned, she was going to
her home on the West Side to attend a garden-party of some kind at
Georgia Timberlake’s. Cowperwood looked at her with — for him —
a morbid eye. He was all cheer, geniality, pleasant badinage; but he
was thinking all the while what a shameless enigma she was, how
well she played her part, what a fool she must take him to be. He gave
her youth, her passion, her attractiveness, her natural promiscuity of
soul due credit; but he could not forgive her for not loving him per-
244
THE TITAN
fectly, as had so many others. She had on a summery black-and-white
frock and a fetching brown Leghorn hat, which, with a rich-red poppy ornamenting a fl are over her left ear and a peculiar ruching of
white-and-black silk about the crown, made her seem strangely
young, debonair, a study in Hebraic and American origins.
«Going to have a nice time, are you?» he asked, genially, politically, eying her in his enigmatic and inscrutable way. «Going to shine
among that charming company you keep! I suppose all the standbys
will be there — Bliss Bridge, Mr. Knowles, Mr. Cross — dancing attendance on you?»
He failed to mention Mr. Gurney.
Stephanie nodded cheerfully. She seemed in an innocent
outing mood.
Cowperwood smiled, thinking how one of these days — very
shortly, perhaps — he was certain to take a signal revenge. He would
catch her in a lie, in a compromising position somewhere — in this
studio, perhaps — and dismiss her with contempt. In an elder day, if
they had lived in Turkey, he would have had her strangled, sewn in
a sack, and thrown into the Bosporus. As it was, he could only dismiss her. He smiled and smiled, smoothing her hand. «Have a good
time», he called, as she left. Later, at his own home — it was nearly
midnight — Mr. Kennedy called him up.
«Mr. Cowperwood?»
«Yes».
«You know the studio in the New Arts Building?»
«Yes».
«It is occupied now».
Cowperwood called a servant to bring him his runabout. He had
had a down-town locksmith make a round keystem with a bored
clutch at the end of it — a hollow which would fi t over the end of
such a key as he had to the studio and turn it easily from the outside.
He felt in his pocket for it, jumped in his runabout, and hurried
away. When he reached the New Arts Building he found Kenne-
245
THEODORE DREISER
dy in the hall and dismissed him. «Thanks», he observed, brusquely.
«I will take care of this».
He hurried up the stairs, avoiding the elevator, to the vacant
room opposite, and thence reconnoitered the studio door. It was
as Kennedy had reported. Stephanie was there, and with Gurney.
The pale poet had been brought there to furnish her an evening of
delight. Because of the stillness of the building at this hour he could
hear their muffl ed voices speaking alternately, and once Stephanie
singing the refrain of a song. He was angry and yet grateful that
she had, in her genial way, taken the trouble to call and assure him
that she was going to a summer lawn-party and dance. He smiled
grimly, sarcastically, as he thought of her surprise. Softly he extracted the clutch-key and inserted it, covering the end of the key on
the inside and turning it. It gave solidly without sound. He next
tried the knob and turned it, feeling the door spring slightly as he
did so. Then inaudibly, because of a gurgled laugh with which he
was thoroughly familiar, he opened it and stepped in.
At his rough, fi rm cough they sprang up — Gurney to a hiding
position behind a curtain, Stephanie to one of concealment behind
draperies on the couch. She could not speak, and could scarcely believe that her eyes did not deceive her. Gurney, masculine and defi ant, but by no means well composed, demanded: «Who are you?
What do you want here?» Cowperwood replied very simply and
smilingly: «Not very much. Perhaps Miss Platow there will tell you».
He nodded in her direction.
Stephanie, fi xed by his cold, examining eye, shrank nervously,
ignoring Gurney entirely. The latter perceived on the instant that
he had a previous liaison to deal with — an angry and outraged
lover — and he was not prepared to act either wisely or well.
«Mr. Gurney», said Cowperwood, complacently, after staring at
Stephanie grimly and scorching her with his scorn, «I have no concern with you, and do not propose to do anything to disturb you or
Miss Platow after a very few moments. I am not here without reason.
This young woman has been steadily deceiving me. She has lied to
246
THE TITAN
me frequently, and pretended an innocence which I did not believe.
To-night she told me she was to be at a lawn-party on the West Side.
She has been my mistress for months. I have given her money, jewelry,
whatever she wanted. Those jade ear-rings, by the way, are one of my
gifts». He nodded cheerfully in Stephanie’s direction. «I have come
here simply to prove to her that she cannot lie to me any more. Heretofore, every time I have accused her of things like this she has cried
and lied. I do not know how much you know of her, or how fond you
are of her. I merely wish her, not you, to know» — and he turned and
stared at Stephanie —»that the day of her lying to me is over».
During this very peculiar harangue Stephanie, who, nervous,
fearful, fi xed, and yet beautiful, remained curled up in the corner of
the suggestive oriental divan, had been gazing at Cowperwood in
a way which plainly attested, trifl e as she might with others, that
she was nevertheless fond of him — intensely so. His strong, solid
fi gure, confronting her so ruthlessly, gripped her imagination, of
which she had a world. She had managed to conceal her body in
part, but her brown arms and shoulders, her bosom, trim knees, and
feet were exposed in part. Her black hair and naive face were now
heavy, distressed, sad. She was frightened really, for Cowperwood at
bottom had always overawed her — a strange, terrible, fascinating
man. Now she sat and looked, seeking still to lure him by the pathetic cast of her face and soul, while Cowperwood, scornful of her,
and almost openly contemptuous of her lover, and his possible opposition, merely stood smiling before them. It came over her very
swiftly now just what it was she was losing — a grim, wonderful
man. Beside him Gurney, the pale poet, was rather thin — a mere
breath of romance. She wanted to say something, to make a plea;
but it was so plain Cowperwood would have none of it, and, besides,
here was Gurney. Her throat clogged, her eyes fi lled, even here, and
a mystical bog-fi re state of emotion succeeded the primary one of
opposition. Cowperwood knew the look well. It gave him the only
sense of triumph he had.
247
THEODORE DREISER
«Stephanie», he remarked, «I have just one word to say to you
now. We will not meet any more, of course. You are a good actress.
Stick to your profession. You may shine in it if you do not merge it
too completely with your loves. As for being a free lover, it isn’t incompatible with what you are, perhaps, but it isn’t socially advisable
for you. Good night».
He turned and walked quickly out.
«Oh, Frank», called Stephanie, in a strange, magnetized, despairing way, even in the face of her astonished lover. Gurney stared with
his mouth open.
Cowperwood paid no heed. Out he went through the dark hall
and down the stairs. For once the lure of a beautiful, enigmatic, immoral, and promiscuous woman — poison fl ower though she was —
was haunting him. «D — her!» he exclaimed. «D — the little beast,
anyhow! The — — ! The — — !» He used terms so hard, so vile, so sad,
all because he knew for once what it was to love and lose — to want
ardently in his way and not to have — now or ever after. He was
determined that his path and that of Stephanie Platow should never
be allowed to cross again.
CHAPTER XXIX
A FAMILY QUARREL
It chanced that shortly before this liaison was broken off, some
troubling information was quite innocently conveyed to Aileen by
Stephanie Platow’s own mother. One day Mrs. Platow, in calling on
Mrs. Cowperwood, commented on the fact that Stephanie was gradually improving in her art, that the Garrick Players had experienced
a great deal of trouble, and that Stephanie was shortly to appear in
a new role — something Chinese.
«That was such a charming set of jade you gave her», she volunteered, genially. «I only saw it the other day for the fi rst time.
She never told me about it before. She prizes it so very highly, that
I feel as though I ought to thank you myself».
Aileen opened her eyes. «Jade!» she observed, curiously. «Why,
I don’t remember». Recalling Cowperwood’s proclivities on the instant, she was suspicious, distraught. Her face showed her perplexity.
«Why, yes», replied Mrs. Platow, Aileen’s show of surprise troubling her. «The ear-rings and necklet, you know. She said you gave
them to her».
«To be sure», answered Aileen, catching herself as by a hair.
«I do recall it now. But it was Frank who really gave them. I hope
she likes them».
She smiled sweetly.
«She thinks they’re beautiful, and they do become her», continued Mrs. Platow, pleasantly, understanding it all, as she fancied.
The truth was that Stephanie, having forgotten, had left her make-up
249
THEODORE DREISER
box open one day at home, and her mother, rummaging in her room
for something, had discovered them and genially confronted her
with them, for she knew the value of jade. Nonplussed for the moment, Stephanie had lost her mental, though not her outward, composure and referred them back casually to an evening at the Cowperwood home when Aileen had been present and the gauds had
been genially forced upon her.
Unfortunately for Aileen, the matter was not to be allowed to
rest just so, for going one afternoon to a reception given by Rhees
Crier, a young sculptor of social proclivities, who had been introduced to her by Taylor Lord, she was given a taste of what it means
to be a neglected wife from a public point of view. As she entered on
this occasion she happened to overhear two women talking in a corner behind a screen erected to conceal wraps. «Oh, here comes Mrs.
Cowperwood», said one. «She’s the street-railway magnate’s wife.
Last winter and spring he was running with that Platow girl — of
the Garrick Players, you know».
The other nodded, studying Aileen’s splendiferous green-velvet
gown with envy.
«I wonder if she’s faithful to him?» she queried, while Aileen
strained to hear. «She looks daring enough».
Aileen managed to catch a glimpse of her observers later, when
they were not looking, and her face showed her mingled resentment and feeling; but it did no good. The wretched gossipers had
wounded her in the keenest way. She was hurt, angry, nonplussed.
To think that Cowperwood by his variability should expose her to
such gossip as this!
One day not so long after her conversation with Mrs. Platow, Aileen happened to be standing outside the door of her own boudoir,
the landing of which commanded the lower hall, and there overheard two of her servants discussing the Cowperwood menage in
particular and Chicago life in general. One was a tall, angular girl of
perhaps twenty-seven or eight, a chambermaid, the other a short,
stout woman of forty who held the position of assistant house-
250
Соседние файлы в предмете [НЕСОРТИРОВАННОЕ]