Quick Action Page 2

  I

  There was a new crescent moon in the west which, with the star above it,made an agreeable oriental combination.

  In the haze over bay and river enough rose and purple remained to veilthe awakening glitter of the monstrous city sprawling supine betweenriver, sound, and sea. And its incessant monotone pulsated, groaning,dying, ceaseless, interminable in the light-shot depths of its darkeningstreets.

  The sky-drawing-room windows of the Countess Athalie were all wide open,but the only light in the room came from a crystal sphere poised on atripod. It had the quality and lustre of moon-light, and we had neverbeen able to find out its source, for no electric wires were visible,and one could move the tripod about the room.

  The crystal sphere itself appeared to be luminous, yet it remainedperfectly transparent, whatever the source of its silveryphosphorescence.

  At any rate, it was the only light in the room except the dulled glimmerof our cigarettes, and its mild, mysterious light enabled us to see oneanother as through a glass darkly.

  There were a number of men there that evening. I don't remember, now,who they all were. Some had dined early; others, during the evening,strolled away into the city to dine somewhere or other, drifting backafterward for coffee and sweetmeats and cigarettes in thesky-drawing-room of the Countess Athalie.

  As usual the girl was curled up by the open window among her silkencushions, one smooth little gem-laden hand playing with the green jadegod, her still dark eyes, which slanted a little, fixed dreamily uponinfinite distance--or so it always seemed to us.

  Through the rusty and corrugated arabesques of the iron balcony shecould see, if she chose, the yellow flare where Sixth Avenue crossedthe shabby street to the eastward. Beyond that, and parallel, a brighterglow marked Broadway. Further east street lamps stretched away intoconverging perspective, which vanished to a point in the faint nebularradiance above the East River.

  All this the Countess Athalie could see if she chose. Perhaps she didsee it. We never seemed to know just what she was looking at even whenshe turned her dark eyes on us or on her crystal sphere cradled upon itsslender tripod.

  But the sphere seemed to understand, for sometimes, under her stillgaze, it clouded magnificently like a black opal--another thing we neverunderstood, and therefore made light of.

  "They have placed policemen before several houses on this street,"remarked the Countess Athalie.

  Stafford, tall and slim in his evening dress, relieved her of her coffeecup.

  "Has anybody bothered you?" he asked.

  "Not yet."

  Young Duane picked up a pack of cards at his elbow and shuffled them,languidly.

  "Where is the Ace of Diamonds, Athalie?" he asked.

  "Any card you try to draw will be the Ace of Diamonds," replied the girlindifferently.

  "Can't I escape drawing it?"

  "No."

  We all turned and looked at Duane. He quickly spread the pack,fan-shaped, backs up. After a moment's choosing he drew a card, lookedat it, held it up for us to see. It was the Ace of Diamonds.

  "Would you mind trying that again, Athalie?" I asked. And Duane replacedthe card and shuffled the pack.

  "But it's gone, now," said the girl.

  "I replaced it in the pack," explained Duane.

  "No, you gave it to me," she said.

  We all smiled. Duane searched through the pack in his hands, once,twice; then he laughed. The girl held up one empty hand. Then, somehowor other, there was the Ace of Diamonds between her delicate littlethumb and forefinger.

  She held it a moment or two for our inspection; then, curving her wrist,sent it scaling out into the darkness. It soared away above the street,tipped up, and describing an aerial ellipse, returned straight to thebalcony where she caught it in her fingers.

  Twice she did this; but the third time, high in the air, the card burstinto violet flame and vanished.

  "That," remarked Stafford, "is one thing which I wish to learn how todo."

  "Two hundred dollars," said the Countess Athalie, "--in two lessons;also, your word of honour."

  "Monday," nodded Stafford, taking out a note-book and making amemorandum, "--at five in the afternoon."

  "Monday and Wednesday at five," said the girl, lighting a cigarette andgazing dreamily at nothing.

  From somewhere in the room came a voice.

  "Did they ever catch that crook, Athalie?"

  "Which?"

  "The Fifty-ninth Street safe-blower?"

  "Yes."

  "Did _you_ find him?"

  She nodded.

  "How? In your crystal?" I asked.

  "Yes, he was there."

  "It's odd," mused Duane, "that you can never do anything of advantage toyourself by gazing into your crystal."

  "It's the invariable limit to clairvoyance," she remarked.

  "A sort of penalty for being super-gifted," added Stafford.

  "Perhaps.... We can't help ourselves."

  "It's too bad," I volunteered.

  "Oh, I don't care," she said, with a slight shrug of her prettyshoulders.

  "Come," said somebody, teasingly, "wouldn't you like to know how soonyou are going to fall in love, and with whom?"

  She laughed, dropped her cigarette into a silver bowl, stretched herarms above her head, straightened her slender figure, turned her headand looked at us.

  "No," she said, "I do not wish to know. Light is swift; Thought isswifter; but Love is the swiftest thing in Life, and if it is nowtravelling toward me, it will strike me soon enough to suit me."

  Stafford leaned forward and arranged the cushions for her; she sank backamong them, her dark eyes still on us.

  "Hours are slow," she said; "years are slower, but the slowest thing inLife is Love. If it is now travelling toward me, it will reach me soonenough to suit me."

  "I," said Duane, "prefer quick action, O Athalie, the Beautiful!"

  "Athalie, lovely and incomparable," said Stafford, "I, also, preferquick action."

  "Play _Scheherazade_ for us, Athalie," I said, "else we slay you withour compliments."

  A voice or two from distant corners repeated the menace. A match flaredand a fresh cigarette glowed faintly.

  Somebody brought the tripod with its crystal sphere and set it down inthe middle of the room. Its mild rays fell on the marble basin of thetiny fountain,--Duane's offering. The goldfish which I had given herwere floating there fast asleep.

  When we had placed sweetmeats and cigarettes convenient for her, we all,in turn, with circumstance and ceremony, bent over her left hand whereit rested listlessly among the cushions, saluting the emerald on herthird finger with our lips.

  Then the dim circle closed around her, nearer.

  "Of all the visions which have passed before your eyes within the depthsof that crystal globe," said Duane, "--of all the histories of men andwomen which, unsuspected by them, you have witnessed, seated here inthis silent, silk-hung place, we desire to hear only those in which Fatehas been swiftest, Opportunity a loosened arrow, Destiny a flash oflightning."

  "But the victims of quick action must be nameless, except as I choose tomask them," she said, looking dreamily into her crystal.

  After a moment's silence Duane said in a low voice:

  "Does anybody notice the odour of orange blossoms?"

  We all noticed the fragrance.

  "I seem to catch a whiff of the sea, also," ventured Stafford. "Am Iright?"

  "Yes," she nodded, "you will notice the odour of the semi-tropics, evenif you miss the point of everything I tell you."

  "In other words," said I, "we are but a material bunch, Athalie, and maybe addressed and amused only through our physical senses. Very well:transpose from the spiritual for us if you please a little story ofquick action which has happened here in the crystal under your matchlesseyes!"