“Yes?” responded Nannie, scrutinizing him sharply from under her hat.
“Are you in a hurry now?” continued Jim. “Can’t I take you somewhere where we can sit down and have a soft drink?”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Sprague,” she declined, “but I am rather in a hurry. I am anxious to get back to Lucy, you know. She depends so on me, and just now she’s not as well as usual.”
“Is she worse?” Jim half halted.
“No. Just about as usual.” Nannie took note of his perturbation. “I think the summers here are trying on her. I wish she could get away to the country for a couple of months.”
Jim quickened his pace.
“Well, of course I don’t want to detain you, Mrs. Merwent, but what I want to say won’t take more than ten minutes. Suppose we walk about in this little park a moment. It’s almost empty and we’ll be practically alone.”
“Why, Mr. Sprague,” Nannie laughed nervously, “you almost frighten me. You talk like a—conspirator!”
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not dangerous. Here, let’s go this way.” And he led her from the street into a shady promenade.
Nannie, hesitating slightly at first, smiled and conversed about the weather, the occasional people they met in the course of their walk, and other irrelevant topics.
“Now what was it you wanted to tell me, Mr. Sprague?” she insisted suddenly as they neared the center of the park.
“Well, it is this, Mrs. Merwent. I am going to Russellville.”
Nannie, of course, could not change her artificial color, but her eyes and mouth opened their widest.
“On business?” she inquired uncomfortably.
“No. I am going to see Professor Walsh, and Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon, and Mr. Blair, and Judge Dodd, and several other friends of yours.”
Nannie sat down on a bench by the path. Jim seated himself on the same bench, a little distance from her. His brown eyes appeared yellowish in the sunlight as they looked straight into hers.
“Wha—what for?” she faltered in a voice she strove in vain to control.
“I want to talk to them.”
“Why, you don’t know any of them,” objected Mrs. Merwent perplexedly, her eyes falling before his.
“No. But I shall take letters of introduction from Professor Walsh’s cousin and others—letters which will enable me to know them and to have their confidence.”
“Professor Walsh’s cousin?” interrogated Nannie, her voice unsteady. “How did you know about Professor Walsh? I never heard of his cousin. Where does he live?”
“Here in Chicago.”
“Why, Professor Walsh never told me,” she confessed blankly. “He never even said he had a relative near here. Who is he?”
“He’s a lawyer. He was consultant to Mr. Merwent’s attorney in the divorce case against you. Professor Walsh himself gave Mr. Merwent the letter of introduction.”
Nannie’s eyes opened even wider, if possible, at this.
“But what are you going for? What are you going to do?” she continued.
“I’m going to talk to your friends, Mrs. Merwent.”
“You’re trying to scare me.” Nannie made a feeble attempt at bravado. “What have I got to do with all this? You have nothing to tell my friends about me.”
“Yes, I have,” Jim asserted vigorously.
“What?” demanded Mrs. Merwent, her hands shaking as she played with her purse and parasol handle.
“I’m going to ask them, especially Professor Walsh, if they approve of what you are doing to your daughter’s home.”
Nannie gazed at him defiantly.
“What am I doing?”
“We probably shouldn’t agree as to that, Mrs. Merwent, but I shall give them my version of it.”
Nannie was visibly working up her anger.
“This is pure spite, Mr. Sprague. You have never liked me, because I saw through your weakness for Lucy, but you can’t frighten me. I suppose she’s put you up to this! I can tell my story, too, and we’ll see who comes out of it best.”
“Now, you’re bluffing, Mrs. Merwent, and it won’t go. I am quite ready to believe that you would befoul your daughter’s name to try to clear yourself, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn’t save you. In any case your daughter could not possibly be in a worse situation than she is, and, if you want war, we’ll leave it to your friends and hers to decide. She hasn’t the slightest idea that I am doing this. I think that’s all I wanted to say, Mrs. Merwent.” And Jim rose.
“Have you written to Professor Walsh?” inquired Nannie weakly.
“Not yet,” Jim admitted grimly.
“It will be a fine thing for a man to do, going around talking about a woman behind her back!”
“We won’t discuss that, Mrs. Merwent.”
“I don’t know—I don’t understand what you mean by all this, Mr. Sprague. One thing is sure, I shall tell Lucy and John about your threats.”
“Do!” Jim dared, turning to go.
“Wait a minute, Mr. Sprague.” Nannie was staring about aimlessly in every direction. “I—I don’t know how long I shall stay in Chicago. Of course your insinuations are ridiculous, but I hate to hurt Lucy’s feelings, especially when she is already in such a nervous state, and make trouble between you and John. So far as I am concerned you could go to Russellville every day, but Lucy is very dear to me. She is my only child. If you made trouble for me remember it would involve her.” As Mrs. Merwent stared at Jim tears rose to her eyes but they did not altogether veil her look of hate and bafflement.
“I’m not going for a week, Mrs. Merwent,” Jim told her inexorably. Then, raising his hat, he left her sitting on the bench.
In the station, before taking the Rosedene train, Mrs. Merwent lingered for twenty minutes or more in the neighborhood of the telegraph office. Finally, with sudden decision she approached the desk and dispatched a message.
XXXI
When Nannie alighted from the train at Rosedene she walked up the
