CHAPTER 23

It was hard to make Danny believe I was deaf; and there was humor in the situation, too. Danny would shake his head and refuse to believe me. Like many another person I had met, he went on talking to me despite my remonstrations. I finally convinced him, and he again let out another spell of blustering invectives, and still another philippic to the unseen spirits of the air and of the deep. At last I broke in, “ Yes, Danny, it’s as I have said, I’m deaf, stone deaf; and if you’re not going to entertain me, I’ll go, ” whereupon he put his arm around me and led me down to his cabin. A glance about the place and I was taken back ten years. Even to the last detail my father’s cabin had been duplicated! Physically, only Danny was changed.

Danny noticed my surprise and delight.

“ How on earth did you do it, Danny? It’s father’s ship over again! ” But instead of making effort to reply the old salt opened a little closet door and brought forth a French decanter of exquisite workmanship, and two sparkling wine glasses. He filled them.

“ Oh, I didn’t mean that, Danny; I wanted you to use my pencil and pad—to talk to me. It’s slow, but the only way unless you know fingerspelling—English or American way, two hands, or one. ” I made some letters, to his amusement.

The old sailor looked puzzled, but took my pencil and pad, and wrote: “ To you, Mickey, and to a glorious life aboard the Seamew II! ”

Joyously we touched and drained the glasses. Danny replaced his upon the table, bringing it down with much force that I expected it to fly into fragments, and again his lips moved in that vigorous, outspoken way I had first seen on the deck, and I could tell from those movements that the fates were again being unduly arraigned.

“ Danny, ” said I, at last, declining a second glass, “ where are you from, and where bound? ”

“ England—England. ” He was writing again. “ Here by way of the Panama, just opened, and back the same way, and you’re going along, Mickey—that’s the law! ”

“ The law? ”

“ Yep. I’m master of this ship, an ’ you’re aboard. ” We sat down.

“ But I’d tumble off your crosstrees, Danny, if you sent me aloft. We deaf are dizzy, old salt, and no more fit for sailoring than turtles are! ”

He shook his head, laughing, his eyes twinkling merrily. “ Nay, nay, my lad; you climbed like a monkey when you were twelve, and we sailors never forget our sea legs, nor how to swear neither. An ’ now, ” glancing about the cabin, “ what do you think of the new Seamew? ” He eyed me mischievously.

“ I shouldn’t know her from our old good ship, ” I declared, emphatically, looking over the place in wonderment. “ How did you do it, Danny? When did you build her, and where have you been all these years? ”

He tore off a sheet from my pad and bent over a fresh one. “ When we left the Seamew, Mickey, you an ’ me, an ’ Dirk an ’ Joe, I took along the plans of the ship! ” and Danny pointed to his head. I rose from my seat in amazement.

“ You don’t mean to tell me that you remembered the lines and the minute plans and details of the Seamew? ”

“ Exactly, Mickey. I loved your sire, he loved his ship, and what Captain Dunmore loved, that loved I, Danny Merlin; an ’ here you are—you are, the Seamew II! ” Proudly he swept his arms across that familiar scene, my father’s cabin, or its replica.

At the mention of my father’s name my eyes moistened, my lips twitched.

“ Tell me, Danny, why didn’t my father save himself—why didn’t he come with us? ”

“ He was too fine and brave for that, Mickey. He ordered me to save you and poor little Ole, while he tried to save his ship and the crew. He was a brave man. You an ’ I are here, Mickey, because I obeyed his orders and tried to do my duty. I’ve been wandering over the seven seas and five continents since the day I left you in that hospital. I struck it rich in the Indies by a lucky game with a Don and a bit of speculatin’. With the money I built this ship—to the memory of your sire, Captain Dunmore. ” Danny’s lines read like a fairy tale.

“ Why did you leave me alone in that hospital? ” I looked the reproach I felt.

“ It warn’t my doing, Mickey. My ship got under way the very night I took her—to catch wind an ’ tide, an ’ I had nary a way to see you nor send you word. I didn’t make New York again till of late. ”

“ When I left the hospital I left my ears behind, ” I explained, “ and you, Danny Merlin, with all your seven seas and five continents, haven’t been through such a strange life as I have. I’ve wandered over this broad land like a tramp, and under a changed physical condition that few, I’m glad to say, experience, and very few hearing people know anything about. I never took to anything in the way of a trade seriously. My father’s wandering, restless spirit is in me, and his book stuff, too. I’ve been writing of late, working like one possessed, and now, Danny, that lad you yanked out of the sea, cheating a shark of his dinner, has written a book, a real book! ” Danny’s face lit with a smile of incredulity. “ Yes, a book, six hundred pages of script, and he’s going to get it published, and be rich and famous! ” Danny filled his glass again, as if he needed some bracing further to listen to me. “ And harken to this, Danny, Mickey’s engaged to be married—! ” Danny rose to his feet. “ One year from now—married, to the fairest jewel you ever set eyes on, that land or water ever gave up. Marion Carrel is the girl’s name. She’s deaf, like me— ” Danny’s fist came down with a thump on the table. “ But her dad is skeptical about me—my family, my connections, also my earning power. He says I must go away a year or so, and bring back some proof of myself and of my worthiness, and so forth. ”

Danny grasped my hand and shook it vigorously, and reseating himself, fell to writing again. “ It goes, my lad, it goes! Back with me you’re bound. Your bunk’s engaged, an ’ your passport needn’t bother you. We’ll ship out of here one week off. We’ll make merry England once more an ’ fix that tree stuff, an ’ when we cast anchor again in this bay I’ll drive it into the old man with a belayin ’ pin. You’ll be my partner in this seafarin ’ business, an ’ Marion shall rule the ship as long as she floats an’—an ’ there you be, Mickey, an ’ there you are! Now, tell Danny where you’re portin’! ”

“ I’ve got a room, ” I explained, after reading Danny’s three pages. “ Not exactly the sort of place I’d care to entertain you or my friends in, but the best I can afford. You see, Danny, I got my father’s insurance, and it was put in trust until I should be of age, and that happy time is about to come. The bank sent me a monthly stipend without a break all these years, but of late, due to panicky conditions, I am told, it has been cut in half. My poor room is the result of it. ”

Danny filled his glass again. Here was one man, I thought, who could beat Dermit and Edsum; and it flashed over me that Danny might yet turn out to be a good writer! He drained the glass at one gulp, smacked his lips, and eyeing me in knowing manner, said, “ Ye ain’t in need, my lad? ” His face changed to one of kindly sympathy.

“ No. ” I returned, quickly. “ I’m faring along with an easy wind, becalmed a bit now and then, but no rocks battering me—just yet. ”

“ Just yet, ” repeated the sailor. “ What trust company handles your fortune? ”

I gave him the name, and no sooner was it off my tongue than he leaped from his seat, this time, I am sure, with a horrible oath, which shocked me. Danny’s great soul and such horrible language did not harmonize. But swearing was a habit acquired in early manhood, when he was a common sailor, and his tongue seemed not to have lost its ungodly twist. He seized my pencil and wrote, his hands trembling violently: “ That company was shaky—that bank—or trust company, when I was in New York. You’ll be lucky to get a forth of your money! ”

I turned cold. Almost, my heart stopped. I could see my face in a mirror, and it was ashen pale. Danny’s lips were moving outlandishly. He would turn a wildly contorted face to me, shake the pencil in my face and talk, talk rapidly and fiercely. “ That concern played wild in its speculations, and two days before I set sails it closed its doors with a maddened crowd surging against them. That was two months ago. I’ve made this run in the prettiest weather that ever were, an ’ like her namesake, the Seamew flew! ”

I sank deep in my chair, my head falling until my chin rested upon my bosom. This calamity to my fortune brought on a sickening of the spirit not unlike that which Dermit’s cigar had brought on the stomach. I was both sick and stunned. I sat speechless, a cold, colorless image of despair. Surely, I was born to be unlucky. If good fortune came to me, it was always closely followed by some overwhelming ill fortune. And here it was again. I had weathered many a blow, had faced misfortunes with some show of bravery, and had set a new tack when the breakers were dead ahead; but this was a shock that all but sent me under. Now I understood my curtailed allowance. I might have suspected trouble ahead when my check grew smaller, but in my seclusion, and throughout my hard and incessant labors I was concentrated on one thing. I had not read the daily papers while engrossed in writing, and as neither Dermit nor Edsum knew whence my checks came, they had sent me no word.

For two minutes I sat speechless. Danny paced to and fro. In his bosom was a tumult. But a few minutes before he was rejoicing over our reunion, yet saddened by my physical misfortune, and now troubled and angered by my money loss. He saw me, sick, pale, and disheartened. I was facing a truly serious situation unless my book was successful, or that I accepted Danny’s “ law ” and left the land. I blamed myself, my lack of common business prudence, in not watching that trust company, but instead, trusting in it as a child trusts its parents. I was weak and undone.

So passed the convulsive moments. Danny broke the spell, and this time, to my amusement, if I could be amused while in such a state of mind, by using some signs. He pointed at me, then to his bunk, and made the sleep sign by inclining his head, cheek-wise, against the palm of his hand.

“ Well done, Danny, ” I laughed, yielding to his fatherly effort to comfort me, his scheme to drown my unhappiness in sleep. “ Well done. If I stay aboard the Seamew II, a few months you’ll be a master of the sign language. That trust company seems to have made the ‘ law’—not you. ” Then a sudden turn of thought. “ My aunt, Danny. Is Aunt Libby alive? ”

“ No. Two months after you left her, pneumonia took her off. ”

I felt the great globe itself dropping away from me, leaving me a lost speck in the universe. So Libby was dead. That is why I had received no reply to my letters. I sank back in the chair and dropped my head, lost in thought.

That night I slept in a ship’s bunk in a little cabin of my own, and near one who had known me from childhood, and loved me. How good it felt! How like a mother’s arms those encompassing cabin walls, the clean linen and warm blankets! The very ship itself seemed like a great, strong fort protecting me. So weary of mind and tired of body that even all the excitement I had just been through was not equal to holding off sleep. And was not the slight rocking of the vessel like the gentle rocking of a mother’s arms?

At seven bells I breakfasted with Danny. Life seemed to be starting all over again, for me. After breakfast Danny led me all over the ship, and I needed only my dear father’s presence to make me a child again. There was not a line of difference between Seamew and Seamew II. What a wonderful man was Danny! We can never be young twice—never young again, but we can be nearly so, and truly the ship and Danny were working the miraculous change in me. But one thing alone was different—all was quiet. Aboard my father’s ship I was accustomed to the tramp of hurrying feet, to loud, stern commands and orders, to the ship’s bells, and to the pounding of the waves against the hull. Now all was strangely still—silent. In the midst of things indelibly stamped upon my mind, aboard a vessel whose every timber and mast and sail and rope seemed almost parts of my own being, the sounds of old were no more. A familiar scene, yet strangely strange.

When, a half hour later, I left the vessel, it was understood that Danny’s law must hold. I must return to my room and get my things, and the bulky manuscript. Besides the long story there were other papers and my finely written diary, script so small one could barely make it out. My story was in the rough, and must be rewritten carefully. It would take weeks to do that, and then type. But Danny would sail in a few days, and in my awful predicament I had no choice but to accompany him. A possible sale of my story was far off. I spent the morning gathering and packing my things. After lunch I went to a bank and learned without doubt the hopelessness of my ever getting all of my fortune. That night I threw myself upon my bed and shed tears. In all the years over which I have been taking you I had lived the life of an introvert. I wasn’t a good mixer. I was a dreamer. I made few connections. The Waltons, Mother and Nell, Dick and Bunny, and now the Carrels and the two artists had made my circle of friends. Dermit and Edsum had been good friends, but their place in the art world was far above mine, and there was a mutual understanding there. So the years had rolled by without my having made friends as others do; and I owed the artists money in this time of trouble and sorrow. The full weight of my unhappy situation came upon me. An ironical wind-up to our friendship, I thought, and my only bad debt. But in the midst of this gloomy situation Fortune had been miraculously kind to me in leading me to Danny.

I gathered my bundles, my overcoat and the same old suitcase that had been so rudely handled by the “ Doctor ” and the “ Professor ” back in the college days, and giving a farewell, yet not regretful, look over the old, dingy rom, opened the door and walked out. I wanted to see my landlady, give her the key, thank her for her kindnesses, and bid her good-bye. I went down the stairs and along the first floor hall toward the landlady’s room, when to my horror and amazement, what should I fall in with, but my landlady talking with—Mrs. Raleigh! I stopped as if I had run against a wall in the dark. Both women turned and caught sight of me. It was no use to turn about and retreat. I saw Mrs. Raleigh’s hand rise and her finger point at me, as if to rebuke a remonstrating and denying landlady. Instantly I recalled Dermit’s suspicions that Mrs. Raleigh was a great poser; and immediately I realized that my landlady had been refusing this woman her wish to see me, or denying that I lived there. I had asked for absolute seclusion.

Mrs. Raleigh approached me, smiling, yet for smile was not her old, triumphant smile, it challenged doubt and overcame distrust. What a metamorphosis! She was no longer dumb, nor was there a trace of her old, wanton and wicked self.

She offered me her hand. I put down my suitcase but did not accept the salutation. “ I don’t want your hand, ” I said, aloud; “ I don’t even want to see you. I am leaving here and have not time to talk. ” The landlady came up.

“ But I want to see you—I am very anxious to see you, I must see you, privately. I saw you several times walking on the sidewalks, and following you, I learned your whereabouts. I must see you, Mickey, I must see you! I am not a deaf-mute, you see, and I want to tell you—all! ”

“ I know you are not deaf, ” I returned, angrily, sneeringly, my voice rising with temper.

“ How did you know? ”

“ I saw the landlady talking aloud to you, and you talking aloud to her; and I had a hint of it from another source not very long ago. Mrs. Raleigh, you have done my people and me great injury—you have put thorns in my already unhappy path, you have robbed and slandered people, and you have led such a life as to warrant your incrimination; and I assure you, were I not just now in a very desperate situation and leaving for other parts, I would see that you got all you deserve! ” The landlady stood aghast, amazed at my speech, bewildered by the woman’s confession, which she was repeating aloud to my landlady.

“ But I know Amos Carrel—I want to see you about him. ”

“ You do? Then tell him good things about me. See the sculptor, Dermit, and settle up with the deaf through him, and, I advise you, that done, clear out! ” I picked up my suitcase to leave, then turned to my landlady and said, “ I am leaving. Where I am going concerns no one here. I thank you for your kindness to me. Here is the key. ” I shook her hand with my disengaged one, holding a bundle under my arm, and I pressed on.

As I reached the street door a hand fell lightly upon my shoulder. Turning, I again faced Mrs. Raleigh.

“ Mickey, I want to atone. Good God! If you knew, if you but understood, you would have compassion and forgive me. ”

“ Ask God to forgive you, Mrs. Raleigh—He is forgiving; just now I am not—in your case. For a year everything here, the deaf, their affairs, all, all, are out of my life. I have other things to think about, other things to do, and one precious soul to keep in mind, and to return to. ”

“ Marion? ”

“ If you want my forgiveness, you know what to do; and you will not get it until you do it. ” I again started off.

“ Wait—let me talk to you. ” She clutched my coat lapel and held me. I set down my suitcase once more. Back in the dimly lighted hall I could see the landlady standing, staring at us, bewildered. “ Under the paint and dye, Mickey, is—age. Mickey, I knew Carrel when we were young. I was beautiful; he was a god—he was glorious. I loved him. Do you understand? ” Her face pressed close to mine. Her warm, sweet breath touched my cheek, and I sank back against the wall, dropping my bundle.

“ You—you are—? ”

The door pushed open and a roomer entered. Glancing at us, he paused to take in the situation. A return glance from Mrs. Raleigh sent him away.

“ Madam, ” I said, calming myself, “ whatever you are, there is but one course for you, and that I have told you. My own path is laid. If you atone for what you have done and are here one year hence, I will find you—we may need each other; but for me, not until then. ” I picked up my things and left.

With trembling feet I boarded a streetcar and once more found myself hurrying towards Dermit’s studio. To my joy I found the two artist friends together in the studio, when, a moment after leaving the car, I pushed open the familiar door. The friends were smoking, as usual. I am sure my face did not reveal what I had been passing through. I was cool and in a pleasant state of mind.

“ There, ” I said, startling my friends with my sudden appearance, and not even pausing to greet them, only dropping my burdens to allow of the silent speech, “ there, in that suitcase is my manuscript—I’ve written a book! I finished it a few days ago. ” I opened the suitcase and brought forth the carefully-wrapped and tied bundle, placing it, in all its amazing bulkiness, on a table. “ See it, there it is! The evening after I finished it I went out and had a big dinner. After dining, I wandered down to the ferry and along the waterfront. While watching the ships I came upon a vessel that resembled my father’s ship, Seamew. I boarded her, and her skipper was no other than Danny Merlin, first mate of the ill-fated Seamew. He comes direct from New York, by way of Panama, and informs me that my fortune, long held in trust there, had been largely lost—bank failure—and I am financially almost ruined. Danny is to sail in a few days, and I am going with him—back to England. We’ll be back in one year. I’m engaged to Marion Carrel, but Mr. Carrel wants some facts about my birth and family connections, so we’re going back to get them—Danny and I. If, after a year, I fail to return, or if you don’t hear from me, you may make any use of this manuscript you deem best. It’s my security for the loan. If any money comes out of it, you may keep it. The New York bank has your names and addresses. ”

I sat down, tired with my long, but to the point, speech. The two artists sat patiently through it.

[Here ends Mickey’s Diary, save for a few pages covering his passage back to England. I must go on with my own story.]

With the suddenness of an earthquake and the fury of a tornado the Great World War had broken out in Europe. Day after day the endless lines of gray moved over stricken Belgium and France. The valiant defenders gave ground, but gave it slowly, dearly. Would the English never come? Must this tidal wave of unleashed fury sweep on unchecked? Back, back, back, the lines of sky blue and those of the outraged, yet indomitable, Belgians gave way. Would the English never come? The cry and the prayer spread over the unhappy lands, from mouth to mouth, from yet untouched village to yonder fleeing town. The ground rumbled and the hills shook. Forests were aflame, towns were aflame—terror was everywhere. But what is that against the far horizon? Over the doomed and quivering plains the fiery crosses of Old England are seen. “ Les Anglais! Les Anglais—ils sont ici ! ” Column after column has mounted the ridges and are pouring over the fields, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of Tommies. A sea of British troops, untrained, and laughed at by the hordes of Huns coming to crush them, yet brave, unflinching, and eager for battle, sweeps onward. Now the new columns have joined the long, desperately resisting lines of the allied forces; the roar of battle sweeps on miles farther as the scene of carnage lengthens.

All that day the battle rages; all the following night the irresistible wave of invasion sweeps on. There is no rest. Four, five, six, days pass, but on sweeps the wall of gray. Forts crumble before the terrible guns, villages are only smoke and ashes and stark walls. Panting fugitives fill the roads. Unable longer to withstand the pressure, the allied lines are breaking and scattering. There is a confusion of orders; there is terror and dismay—despair. The unchecked wall of madmen moves onward and turns southward, sweeping triumphantly, and almost unresistingly, heedless of the clashes of small and detached units. Then out of the red chaos sudden order comes! Out of Paris rush a million fresh troops, the taxi army! A coup on the part of the French, a blunder on the part of the Germans, a pause on the side of the invaders, and then—a tidal wave of blue, a wave as mighty and irresistible as ever the ocean swept over a lowland coast, and the titanic battle turns! The gray hosts stopped, staggering, beaten, they turn in wild confusion and retreat. Paris is saved!

Three weeks later, thousands of miles away from the battlefields, an artist and a sculptor, deaf-mutes, were sitting together in a studio in San Francisco reading a London newspaper, filled with stirring war news, with the arrival of English forces in France. A woman had brought the paper to the studio, stuffing it through the letter drop in the absence of the sculptor. A paragraph was heavily blue-penciled, and the two friends were nervously reading it, their faces changing from anxiety to that of shock as they read:

“ Probably the most wonderful and tragic thing yet reported by our men at the front is the account of the dash to victory of a detached company of Warwickshire boys after defeat and an order to retreat. An American youth whom the boys called ‘ Mickey, ’ despite the fact that he was deaf, was in the fight, and led a charge in the face of the order to retreat! It appears that the brave young soldier, not hearing the order, dashed forward when his comrades were turning back, and they, encouraged and emboldened by this boy’s astounding conduct, faced about and followed him! The astonished, onrushing foe were met, many of them shot down or bayonetted in bloody fighting, and the rest taken prisoners! When night came on, it is our sad duty to report, Mickey was among the missing. ”

“ Great Scott! ” Dermit leaped to his feet. Edsum’s eyes blurred. He saw himself and Mickey again in that bower of jasmine, and visions of that rare and beautiful deaf girl rose before him. Through all those long months that had passed neither he nor Dermit had ever thought to call at the Carrel mansion. Where was Marion? Then and there they resolved to go at once and find her. Bad as the news was, the girl must know it, otherwise she would wait an age, and die, perhaps, die with the belief that her boy had proved untrue and had forsaken her.

“ I think we can now safely open the package and read the story, Edsum; but let us first find Marion. Maybe we might better give the package to her—all the poor boy left should go to her. ” Dermit’s frame trembled, his fingers shook nervously, and his face grew pale and sad. He turned to a heavy, iron-bound chest and opened it. There lay Mickey’s manuscript just as he had wrapped and tied it that last day in his room.

It was evening. The two artists threw on their light overcoats and left the studio. They entered the hall, and turning, came face to face with a woman. There was faint light still lingering in the hall, and the men could discern the woman’s features. Dermit recognized her—Mrs. Raleigh. There was no trace of cosmetics on her face, now. She was dressed in black, and her features revealed the clouded soul of a one-time haughty and mocking spirit.

“ I have returned for the London paper, ” she spelled, wearily. “ I knew Mickey, and I knew that you knew him. I wanted you to know the story. ”

The men paused. To them Mrs. Raleigh was Mrs. Raleigh, the brilliant, but uncertain woman who had cut such a prominent figure at the club a year ago. She had not made a “ clean breast ” of it to Dermit, nor had she been seen among the deaf since Mickey’s departure on the Seamew II.

“ I will get the paper, ” Dermit spelled the words. “ We thank you for leaving it. ”

“ Also, I wish to speak to you. May I step inside your studio for a brief talk? ”

“ Certainly. ” With a weak, uncertain step, Mrs. Raleigh followed the artists through the hall to the studio door. Edsum opened it and switched on the light, motioning Mrs. Raleigh to a chair. She staggered, and Edsum quickly caught her arm and assisted her. She sank wearily into the old, overstuffed chair, drawing from under her arm a package which she placed in her lap.

“ You are ill, Madam, ” surmised Dermit. “ Is there anything I can do for you—a cup of tea? ”

“ Thank you. I am, indeed, ill. The tea will strengthen me. I have, indeed, a little story to tell you. ”

Dermit lighted his alcohol lamp and set over the flame a small kettle of water. In a few minutes he served the tea.

“ I feel better, now. ”

“ I am glad, Mrs. Raleigh. Now would you please tell us how you happened by this London paper? Mickey was a friend of ours. ”

“ An elderly gentleman gave it to me—a Mr. Carrel. ”

“ Amos Carrel? ” Edsum looked surprised.

“ Yes; he said an English sailor, Danny Merlin, who knew Mickey, sent it to him. ”

“ We were about to go to the Carrel mansion when we met you. How is Mr. Carrel? ”

“ He is not there—he is gone. ”

“ Gone? And Marion? ”

“ They have gone to France to see what they can find about Mickey. They wish to bring back the remains if found. Here is Mickey’s Diary. The sailor sent it, too. ” She handed the small package to Dermit. He unwrapped it, glanced through its finely written pages, and again turned to Mrs. Raleigh.

“ May I ask how you came to know Amos Carrel? ”

“ Amos Carrel is not his full name, but it will suffice here. I knew him when he was a young man. His father was a eugenist and a man of science. He boasted unusual physical perfection, and sought to perpetuate it in his family. He raised Amos a physically perfect man, who in turn became absorbed in eugenics, and the idea that we have a right to be well-born; it obsessed him. Amos became almost fanatical over it. He attended a medical college. I was a student at the college of nurses in the same city. We harbored similar ideas about the race. I saw in Amos perfect, beautiful manhood, and he saw in me perfect womanhood. I was a Catholic; he was not. We were secretly married by a Justice, and a son came of it. That son was like his father, a young god. The Church and the Carrel family flew into a rage over our marriage. I fled, disowned, and, according to the Church, unwed. Amos married again after legalizing the separation. He had a daughter. It, too, was perfect—like the son. I raised my son, but in bitterness and humiliation. Grown, he went his way. Years passed. I became interested in the deaf, and married one, a fine man. He died two years later, but I had mastered his language. Alone again, I gave way to despair, lost faith in man and society—hated it, and let myself sink. I saw that I could play the role of a deaf-mute, and I knew that society is charitably inclined toward such people. It led to my becoming the leader of the gang of impostors that Mickey exposed. I plotted revenge. I followed Mickey, to punish him. My steps led me to Carrel, who turned out to be the medical student of my younger days—the wonderful man I had so willingly thrown my life away for! ” She paused, wearied, blur-eyed. Her hands, trembling with nervousness, sank to her lap. “ Another cup of tea, please. ” The sculptor refilled her cup, and she slowly sipped the stimulant, the two men looking on in mute wonder.

“ So far you have my story, and that of Amos Carrel, ” the woman resumed, after placing the cup and saucer on a table. “ Now hear how Marion came to be. Common lore states that deaf-mutes come from the marriage of deaf-mutes. But it doesn’t happen as often as people think. Marion is a perfect case of female beauty, face and figure—but deaf. She has enjoyed perfect health, too, so I have learned. How did it happen? How, in a line of physically perfect men and women, where every precaution was taken to guard that priceless heritage, came about this physical break, this blasting of the plan? Twenty years later on my son, then employed in an Eastern bank, met the daughter of Amos Carrel. My son was known as “Tom Wrenn.” He was of a saving nature; he moved in excellent society. Handsome, cultured, possessing that wonderful physical make-up so dear to Amos. The eugenist encouraged the attentions Tom paid his daughter. To Amos Carrel family did not count. It was physical perfection along with the ordinary culture and the qualities of a gentleman. Ignorant of their relationship, these young people married! Then the unfailing law of nature got in its work. The child born of that amazing union was stone deaf! That child is Marion. Years later came the terrible revelation—the consanguineous nature of the marriage. There is Marion. There is the broken-hearted old man, Amos Carrel is her grandfather. I am her grandmother! The very thought of physical defect was a pain to Amos Carrel; to his father it was a disgrace. One of the cruelest ills that beset man is deaf- mutism, and Amos brought it into his family! It broke his heart. His riches availed him nothing—eased not his pain, nor wiped away his guilt, for our marriage was unsanctioned, disavowed by the Church. ”

Again, Mrs. Raleigh’s hands dropped to her lap. Her mouth twitched, her eyelids blinked back a tear. Still the enwrapped listeners sat marvelling.

“ Now, a few words more. I want to clear it all out of me. Mickey having caused my exposure back East, I vowed yet to punish him. I followed him—for the deaf can readily get the whereabouts of the other deaf. I traced him to this city and at last met him face to face at the club. Following him and Marion that same night I learned where the girl lived and not knowing whom I addressed, I sent a damaging letter in ‘ dummy ’ English, to ‘ The Master of the House ’ warning him against poor Mickey. Later, to my consternation, I learned the identity of Amos Carrel, sought a meeting and learned the story I am telling. He has suffered as much as I. With that meeting with Carrel my nature changed. A great wave of remorse swept me, carrying before it every vestige of my old and wicked self, leaving me a purified and transformed being. I loved Mickey, now, sought his whereabouts and found him, but on the point of leaving this country. Since then, however, my health has steadily failed. My sorrow has been too great to bear. I have paid for what I have done. From what little I could learn from Amos, it appears that Marion’s mother died of grief, my son disappeared, and Amos raised the girl, loving her and lavishing everything he possessed upon her, yet swayed by an ever-present conviction that man has a right to be well-born. Under that urge in his nature he secluded Marion from society, fearful of furthering the defect, a recurrence of it, yet inwardly struggling with the pain that such a course was blighting Marion’s life—her happiness. Amos admired and honored our Mickey, one day urging himself to a union with Marion, the next fighting down the idea, the ebb and flow of a soul-tide. Witness what he did, binding the two together, then sending Mickey off for a year! Now Mickey is dead, this whole thing is a terrible tragedy—the tragedy of deafness. Somewhere, without a doubt, back in Carrel’s line, or mine, unknown to us, there was a child born deaf, a consanguineous marriage so close as this one was would bring out the defect. That’s my solution. ” Her head sank.

Dermit spoke. “ Madam, you are tiring yourself. Let this rest awhile. You may tell us more another day. ”

“ I have told all—all of consequence. Keep the newspaper and the diary. ” Mrs. Raleigh struggled to her feet, sinking back twice into her chair before, with Edsum’s assistance, she stood erect and steadied herself. “ I will go now, my friends, but do not try to follow me. Forget me. My life is ebbing, and in a little while I shall have rest, I shall have that peace I have long prayed for. ” She turned and took a step toward the door, then paused in a reflective mood. Suddenly she thrust her hand into her bosom and drew forth a pearl necklace. “ Here, ” she said, extending her hand, “ Amos gave me this when we joined our lives—and blighted them. He was noble and strong—I was weak. ” A tone of bitterness and utter frustration accompanied the last words. “ If ever you see Marion, please give her the necklace—from a secret friend. The pearls are very fine; but do not tell her my story—never mention me. To Marion, Amos is ‘ Daddy’—she must never know the story. ”

Like a shadow, a wraith, her dark form passed through the doorway and vanished in the dim hall. Out of the hall and into the street she slowly passed, leaving the artist and the sculptor staring at each other in mute wonder.

Six weeks after this amazing incident I, having heard of these two remarkable deaf artists, sought them out, and found them one evening in Dermit’s studio. He entertained me with his life story, writing on a pad, and stopping to show me specimens of his work. We went from there to Edsum’s studio to see his canvases, then back again to the sculptor’s studio, where he set about preparing a snack.

They told me about Mickey and the wonderful girl he loved, of the boy’s heroic exploit in France. I explained to them that I was a journalist, whereupon Edsum went to a large chest in the corner of his studio, returning with a bulky manuscript. “ Mickey, too, was a writer, ” he said, holding up the manuscript. “ He left this in our keep. It’s an amazing story, but in the rough. It will need the skill of a trained writer to prepare it for publication. ” Looking through its pages I could see what he meant.

“ Would you trust me with that manuscript while I am sojourning in this city? ” I saw something good in that manuscript.

Dermit spoke to Edsum, explaining my wish. I added, to give them a feeling of assurance, “ I’m staying at the Bohemian Club. ”

Dermit replied, “ It is now two months since the engagement. If there were any good news we would certainly have got it through Amos Carrel, who went over there with Marion. ” He filled the glasses, and we drank, then munched the crackers and cheese. Again Dermit wrote: “ Mickey was brave and stubborn, he wouldn’t quit—he wouldn’t give up. We sometimes said he was just a foolish boy, and a dreamer. ”

“ That proves the stuff he was made of, ” I replied, “ that’s why he drove on in the battle—he wouldn’t quit. ” I looked at my watch. It was ten o’clock. I told the artists that I must be going, and stepped over to pick up Mickey’s manuscript. Just then I heard light footsteps in the hall, and turned my head. The studio door suddenly swung wide open. There, before our startled eyes, stood a beautiful young woman in a rich fur coat, a dark, broad-brimmed velvet hat, underlined with white satin that set off her classic features, and a young man in a gray overcoat and a soft, blue felt hat, smiling.

The astonished artists stood in utter bewilderment, their mouths dropping as their hands shot up.

“ Mickey—Marion! ” He spoke as he spelled, guessing, and correctly, that I was a hearing man. As they stepped in the artists rushed forward. Edsum threw his arms around Marion, Dermit drew in Mickey with a bear-like hug. My hand went to my cold-damp forehead. Was I dreaming? Then I remembered what I had read, that the newspaper report said “ missing. ” There was hope. Dermit grabbed the pad and pencil from a table and told me who they were, giving my name to them. I spoke aloud as I grasped their outstretched hands, and further speaking, saw that Marion could understand my lips. I was impressed still further. Then for a brief moment there was silence. I next addressed Marion, saying, “ Tell us—tell us this wonderful thing that has happened. ” She repeated it to the artists and we all sat down. Composed, and glancing about, she began:

“ Mickey fell behind in the wild rush of our men, and as night came on, lost his way. He made his way back to a village. They wouldn’t let him return because he was deaf. He made his way back to Paris, to the American Hospital, where he offered his services, and was given work to do. Daddy and I found him there. ”

For another brief moment there was awed silence. Here was one back from the grave, a miracle. I took the pad and wrote, telling Mickey to tell us briefly how he did it.

“Everybody who could carry a gun was being sent over the Channel. A friend worked me in—got me a gun and a uniform. I was crazy to go. We stuck together. With his help I got by. He was killed. I pressed on. It was red hell.

“ I didn’t know we had been ordered to retreat, fall back, ” he explained, talking aloud, and then signing it for the artists. “ I rushed forward, the boys turned and followed. The Huns ran; we licked the hell out of them. Our boys went on and on, and I fell behind. Darkness came on—it comes late over there—and I became lost. I found a crude shelter and crept in, and was soon asleep. Next day I got back to Paris. ” He spoke with modesty, save for the way they licked the Huns. In the pause that followed, Dermit asked, his face lighting up with a broad smile, “ And now what is next on the program, marital or martial proceedings? ”

Marion answered that. “ The great big house, in the great big yard, near a great—big—ocean, is for sale. In New York we found that Mickey will get at least a third of his trust fund. We are all three, Daddy, Mickey and I, going to live in a nice little house overlooking the sea, and we two will take care of Daddy. ”

“ What a grand wind-up, ” said Richard Dermit, as he gave the name to me, went to a closet and brought forth a package. He said to Marion, “ An old friend of the Carrels left this with us to give to you. It is a fitting time to give it. The name of the donor is a secret. ” He opened the package and held up the string of pearls.

Marion gave a cry of joy as Dermit dropped them into her hands. She examined them closely, and with animation, her smile growing livelier, Mickey and I stepped up to examine the pearls. Then he said something to her, and helped her remove her coat. She took off her hat, and then her gloves, and there flashed tints of blue, and of yellow and of green from the one ring. She wore a wine-red dress. Mickey dropped the string of pearls over her head. We stood in speechless admiration. Mickey removed his overcoat, and from a pocket in his coat drew out his wallet. From it he took four ten dollar bills, and two fives. Handing them to Edsum, he said laughing, “ Here’s what I owe you two—you helped me when I needed help. ” The artists divided the bills, twenty-five dollars each. Mickey told me the story as Dermit was getting two more wine glasses from his closet. He filled all five.

We raised the glasses on Edsum’s lead, who said, “ To Marion Carrel, the most beautiful girl in San Francisco. ” We drank, as Marion acknowledged the honor. Dermit followed, as we again lifted the glasses, “ To Mickey, the bravest boy in ‘ Deafdom’. ”

But Mickey quickly replied, “ No; just the happiest! ”