“I will be there in eight days,” said Arnold’s father.
* * *
When she returned with Andy to his apartment that night, she noticed that there were three long-stemmed roses on a table next to the couch.
“Why, what lovely flowers!” she exclaimed. “This reminds me that my mother had once the loveliest garden for miles around her. She won many prizes with her roses.”
“Well,” said Andy, “no one in my family ever won a prize with a rose, but I bought these for you in case you came.”
“I’m deeply touched,” said Miss Goering.
* * *
Miss Goering had been living with Andy for eight days. He was still very nervous and tense, but he seemed on the whole to be much more optimistic. To Miss Goering’s surprise, he had begun on the second day to talk of the business possibilities in town. He surprised her very much too by knowing the names of the leading families of the community and moreover by being familiar with certain details concerning their private lives. On Saturday night he had announced to Miss Goering his intention of having a business conference the next morning with Mr. Bellamy, Mr. Schlaegel, and Mr. Dockerty. These men controlled most of the real estate not only in the town itself but in several neighboring towns. Besides these interests they also had a good many of the farms of the surrounding country. He was terribly excited when he told her his plans, which were mainly to sell the buildings he owned in the city, for which he had already been offered a small sum, and buy a share in their business.
“They’re the three smartest men in town,” he said, “but they’re not gangsters at all. They come from the finest families here and I think it would be nice for you too.”
“That is not the kind of thing that interests me in the least,” said Miss Goering.
“Well, naturally, I wouldn’t expect it to interest you or me,” said Andy, “but you’ve got to admit we’re living in the world, unless we want to behave like crazy kids or escaped lunatics or something like that.”
For several days it had been quite clear to Miss Goering that Andy was no longer thinking of himself as a bum. This would have pleased her greatly had she been interested in reforming her friends, but unfortunately she was only interested in the course that she was following in order to attain her own salvation. She was fond of Andy, but during the last two nights she had felt an urge to leave him. This was also very much due to the fact that an unfamiliar person had begun to frequent the bar.
This newcomer was of almost mammoth proportions, and both times that she had seen him he had been wearing a tremendous black overcoat well cut and obviously made of very expensive material. She had seen his face only fleetingly once or twice, but what she had seen of it had so frightened her that she had been able to think of very little else for two days now.
This man, they had noticed, drove up to the saloon in a very beautiful big automobile that resembled more a hearse than a private car. Miss Goering had examined it one day when the man was drinking in the saloon. It appeared to be almost brand-new. She and Andy had looked in through the window and had been a little surprised to see a lot of dirty clothes on the floor. Miss Goering was completely preoccupied now with what course to take should the newcomer be willing to make her his mistress for a little while. She was almost sure that he would, because several times she had caught him looking at her in a certain way which she had learned to recognize. Her only hope was that he would disappear before she had the chance to approach him. If he did, she would be exempt and thus able to fritter away some more time with Andy, who now seemed so devoid of anything sinister that she was beginning to scrap with him about small things the way one does with a younger brother.
On Sunday morning Miss Goering woke up to find Andy in his shirt sleeves, dusting off some small tables in the living-room.
“What is it?” she asked him. “Why are you bustling around like a bride?”
“Don’t you remember?” he asked, looking hurt. “Today is the big day — the day of the conference. They are coming here bright and early, all three of them. They live like robins, those business men. Couldn’t you,” he asked her, “couldn’t you do something about making this room prettier? You see, they’ve all got wives, and even if they probably couldn’t tell you what the hell they’ve got in their living-rooms, their wives have all got plenty of money to spend on little ornaments and their eyes are probably used to a certain amount of fuss.”
“Well, this room is so hideous, Andy, I don’t see that anything would do it any good.”
“Yes, I guess it’s a pretty bad room. I never used to notice it much.” Andy put on a navy-blue suit and combed his hair very neatly, rubbing in a little brilliantine. Then he paced up and down the living-room floor with his hands in his hip pockets. The sun was pouring in through the window, and the radiator was whistling in an annoying manner while it overheated the room as it had done constantly since Miss Goering had arrived.
Mr. Bellamy, Mr. Schlaegel, and Mr. Dockerty had received Andy’s note and were on their way up the stairs, having accepted the appointment more out of curiosity and from an old habit of never letting anything slip by than because they actually believed that their visit would prove fruitful. When they smelled the terrible stench of the cheap cooking in the halls, they put their hands over their mouths in order not to laugh too loudly and performed a little mock pantomime of retreating towards the staircase again. They really didn’t care very much, however, because it was Sunday and they preferred being together than with their families, so they proceeded to knock on Andy’s door. Andy quickly wiped his hands because they were sweaty and ran to open the door. He stood in the doorway and shook hands with each man vigorously before inviting them to come in.
“I’m Andrew McLane,” he said to them, “and I’m sorry that we have not met before.” He ushered them into the room and all three of them realized at once that it was going to be abominably hot. Mr. Dockerty, the most agressive of the three men, turned to Andy.
“Would you mind opening the window, fellow?” he said in a loud voice. “It’s boiling in here.”
“Oh,” said Andy blushing, “I should have thought of it.” He went over and opened the windows.
“How do you stand it, fellow?” said Mr. Dockerty. “You trying to hatch something in here?”
The three men stood in a little group near the couch and pulled out some cigars, which they examined together and discussed for a minute.
“Two of us are going to sit on this couch, fellow,” said Mr. Dockerty, “and Mr. Schlaegel can sit here on this little armchair. Now where are you going to sit?”
Mr. Dockerty had decided almost immediately that Andy was a complete boob and was taking matters into his own hands. This so disconcerted Andy that he stood and stared at the three men without saying a word.
“Come,” said Mr. Dockerty, carrying a chair out of a corner of the room and setting it down near the couch, “come, you sit here.”
Andy sat down in silence and played with his fingers.
“Tell me,” said Mr. Bellamy, who was a little more soft-spoken and genteel than the other two. “Tell me how long you have been living here.”
“I have been living here two years,” said Andy listlessly.
The three men thought about this for a little while.
“Well,” said Mr. Bellamy, “and tell us what you have done in these three years.”
“Two years,” said Andy.
Andy had prepared quite a long story to tell them because he had suspected that they might question him a bit about his personal life in order to make certain what kind of man they were dealing with, and he had decided that it would not be wise to admit that he had done absolutely nothing in the past two years. But he had imagined that the meeting was to be conducted on a much more friendly basis. He had supposed that the men would be delighted to have found someone who was willing to put a little money into their business, and would be more than anxious to believe that he was an upright, hard-working citizen. Now, however, he felt that he was being cross-questioned and made a fool of. He could barely control his desire to bolt out of the room.