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He saw at once where he stood in what danger. If she insisted that she was ill and unable to go back, there would be a fuss. The story would come out. Everything would be gone. Schwitter's, of all places! At the foot of the stairs, Schwitter pulled himself together. After all, the girl was only ill. There was nothing for the police. He looked at his watch. The doctor ought to be here by this time.
But his reply came promptly: "Surest thing in the world. Close to him as you are to me. Dark man, about thirty, small mustache " "Bill, you're lying, and I know it. Where is he?" The barkeeper kept his head, but his color changed. "I don't know anything about him." He thrust his mop into the pail. K. rose. "Does Schwitter know?" "He doesn't know nothing. He's been out at the barn all night."
Mr. Schwitter rose and took a step toward her. "Well, I'll tell you why I came. Look at me. I ain't getting any younger, am I? Time's going on, and I'm wanting you all the time. And what am I getting? What've I got out of life, anyhow? I'm lonely, Tillie!" "What's that got to do with me?" "You're lonely, too, ain't you?" "Me? I haven't got time to be. And, anyhow, there's always a crowd here."
"I'd better explain first what happened, and why it happened. Then if you are willing to send him a line, I think it would help. He saw a girl in white in the car and followed in his own machine. He thought it was you, of course. He didn't like the idea of your going to Schwitter's. Carlotta was taken ill. And Schwitter and and Wilson took her upstairs to a room." "Do you believe that, K.?"
He was not without other anxieties. What if the sight of Tillie's baby did not do all that he expected? Good women could be most cruel. And Schwitter had been very vague. But here K. was more sure of himself: the little man's voice had expressed as exactly as words the sense of a bereavement that was not a grief. He was counting on Mrs. McKee's old fondness for the girl to bring them together.
"She'd never look at him again. You're crazy about her. I haven't got a chance. It would give you one." "I want her, God knows!" said K. "But not that way, boy." Schwitter had taken in five hundred dollars the previous day. "Five hundred gross," the little man hastened to explain. "But you're right, Mr. Le Moyne.
Tillie brought the Scotch, already mixed, in a tall glass. K. would have preferred to mix it himself, but the Scotch was good. He felt a new respect for Mr. Schwitter. "You gave me a turn at first," said Tillie. "But I am right glad to see you, Mr. Le Moyne. Now that the roads are bad, nobody comes very much. It's lonely."
The message from Schwitter was very brief: "Something has happened, and Tillie wants you. I don't like to trouble you again, but she wants you." K. was rather gray of face by that time, having had no sleep and little food since the day before. But he got into the rented machine again its rental was running up; he tried to forget it and turned it toward Hillfoot.
The dead lanterns swung in the morning air, and from back on the hill came the staccato sounds of a reaping-machine. "Where's Schwitter?" "At the barn with the missus. Got a boy back there." Bill grinned. He recognized K., and, mopping dry a part of the porch, shoved a chair on it. "Sit down. Well, how's the man who got his last night? Dead?" "No." "County detectives were here bright and early.
He'll get off safely, I think." "WE are going to get him away! YOU are, you mean. You shoulder all our troubles, K., as if they were your own." "I?" He was genuinely surprised. "Oh, I see. You mean but my part in getting Joe off is practically nothing. As a matter of fact, Schwitter has put up the money. My total capital in the world, after paying the taxicab to-day, is seven dollars."
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