Hattie shrank back in the seat with an expression of ludicrously blank amazement on her face. Her nose twitched and she attempted to sniff. But it was a very poor attempt. She was so bewildered by Robert’s outbreak that her sniffer failed her for the first time in her life.

The rest of the trip was made in utter silence between them. Robert was too unhappy to care how deeply he had hurt Hattie. And she was so taken aback by his sudden attack that she didn’t know how badly she was hurt.

Chapter Nine

Jim Marston was the friend whom Robert had wired to request a hotel reservation be made. They had been classmates at agricultural college, and had maintained their friendship by correspondence since graduation. Jim was several years older than Robert, stoop-shouldered and sad-faced.

He had gone into a cotton broker’s office after college, and settled down to an existence of placid celibacy in New Orleans. He liked Robert very much, and the younger man’s abrupt telegram had sent him scurrying over the city in search of accommodations for Robert and his cousin.

It was simply a matter of taking what he could find, this seeking for rooms on the eve of Mardi Gras. He had finally succeeded in finding two dingy rooms in a small hotel a few blocks from Canal Street. They were uncomfortable and ill-furnished, but the great influx of visitors from neighboring cities and states had literally gobbled up every available room in the entire city.

Jim gulped nervously as he stood on the platform awaiting the arrival of Robert’s train. Two years since he had seen Robert. He wondered if the boy had changed much. And this cousin whom Robert was bringing! What would she be like? He ran a lean finger about the inside of a too-large collar as the train pulled into the station with a great groaning of steel brakes and hissing of steam. Jim Marston was not one for social amenities. He was always at his worst when meeting strangers.

Then he saw Robert. A smile lit up his face as he hurried toward him.

“You’ve not changed a mite!” were his first words of greeting.

Robert seized his hand in a mighty grip and held it wordlessly. The sight of Jim’s homely friendliness made him happier than he cared to admit. In his condition of mental turmoil and soul-sickness, Jim seemed to him the only friend he had in the world.

“Well, you might have the courtesy to introduce your cousin,” an acid voice commented in his ear.

“Oh yes.” Robert turned to Hattie with a strained smile. “Let me introduce Mr. Marston,” he said formally. “And this is Cousin Hattie, Jim. She’s braved the terrors of the Mardi Gras to protect me from its madness.” He laughed shakily as he sought to inject a lighter note into the meeting.

“I’m... very pleased to meet you,” Jim stammered. He looked at Hattie in helpless awe. So this was Robert’s cousin? He had envisioned a slim little country girl with golden hair and rosy cheeks.

“Howdy do, Mr. Marston,” Hattie simpered. She thought vaguely that he looked very sensible. He wasn’t dressed up in any outlandish costume. She supposed, after all, there might be one or two sensible persons in New Orleans.

“Did you find rooms for us, Jim?” Robert broke the awkward silence following the introduction.

“Oh yes.” Jim turned to him with relief. “Absolutely the best I could do on such short notice,” he said earnestly. “They’re rather terrible, but they’ll have to do. It’s a small hotel not far from here. Two rooms with an adjoining bath. Shall we go look at them?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes. Let’s do that,” Robert said quickly. “And I want to try and call Babs as soon as I can get to a telephone.”

“Let me help you with your bags,” Jim offered. He leaned down to help Robert with his suitcase.

“I’ll take mine,” Robert said. “Suppose you carry Cousin Hattie’s valise? And be tender with it. She insisted on bringing that old thing, and packing it full of three times as much junk as she needed to carry. You’d have thought she was going on a world tour if you’d seen her packing.”

“All right.” Jim gazed in dismay at the bulging canvas valise, whose aged sides seemed to groan at the weight within. It was tied tightly about the middle with twine, and there were two wearied handles, worn smooth with much use. But he bent manfully to pick it up.

“That’s all right, young man,” Hattie snapped. “I’ll attend to it myself.” She leaned forward at the same moment, her head colliding with Jim’s, and her hand grasping the other handle at the same moment that Jim secured a firm grip on his handle.

“Let me,” he urged. “I’ll take it for you.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Hattie said emphatically. “I’ll carry my own bag.” She tugged at the handle, her thin body curved in a bow which impeded the progress of the throng of disembarking travelers.

“No, no,” Jim insisted. “I wouldn’t think of letting you carry it. Why it’s terribly heavy.” His sallow face was flushed as he pulled insistently at the opposite handle.

“Better let her take it, Jim,” Robert counseled. “She’s afraid it might not be quite proper for a young man to carry the intimate articles of apparel she has lurking in the depths of the antique.”

“Nonsense!” Hattie snapped. “Take it then.” She straightened suddenly and loosed her hold. The entire weight of the bag fell upon the twine which was fastened to the handle Jim held. The strain was too great.

There was a sullen plop as the string broke. The lock had been useless for many years.

Hattie uttered a shrill cry as the valise sagged open and spilled its contents on the platform. Jim held onto the handle stupidly. A pair of long knitted drawers were prominently displayed as they hung half out of the bag.

A great snicker went up from those about as Hattie dropped to her thin knees and feverishly gathered the mysterious articles disgorged by the gaping bag.

“Set it down, dummy!” she said screechingly. “Set it down before you spill the rest out.”

Jim set the valise down and dropped to his knees beside her to assist in retrieving the contents. Hattie slapped his hand away as he reached for a stiffly flounced petticoat.

“I’ll attend to this,” she said acridly. “You’ve done enough harm for one time.”

Jim’s face was very red as he arose and watched her in dismay as she fluttered about the platform, picking up articles from under the feet of strangers and thrusting them in the valise willy-nilly.

“You take my bag,” Robert grated. “I told her that damned old thing would never stand another trip. It’s the one Noah used on the Ark.” He put his suitcase in Jim’s hand and gathered Hattie’s valise awkwardly in his arms. The knitted drawers were left on the floor as he stood up.

Hattie grabbed them and bundled them up in a small ball which she held in her bony hands.

“I don’t know what all these smart alecks are laughing about,” she said as she arose. She sniffed and tilted her nose at a forty-five degree angle to indicate how utterly beneath her contempt were those who enjoyed her discomfiture.

“For God’s sake, let’s get out of here,” Robert said hastily.

Jim led the way with Robert following and Hattie sniffingly bringing up the rear.

“We’d better take a cab,” Jim said over his shoulder. “I haven’t a car, and it takes hours to get any place on a street car with the streets so crowded.”

Hattie sniffed with machine-like regularity as they inspected the two rooms Jim had reserved for them. “I daresay they’ll do,” she admitted. Her face assumed an expression of martyr-like patience. “It’s no worse than I expected to put up with.”

Robert excused himself and went down to the lobby to telephone while Hattie fussed about her room, finding dust in unexpected places, and searching the mattress for any signs of bedbugs.

Robert’s hands trembled as he turned the pages of the telephone directory in search of the Brinkleys’ number. What would Babs say when she learned he had followed her to the city? His heart pounded as he called the number. A moment more and he would hear her beloved voice. He would beg her forgiveness. She would have to listen to him.

He waited what seemed to him a terribly long interval. Then a heavy, masculine voice said “hello.”

“Oh hello!” Robert gripped the receiver tightly. “Uh... is this... is this Mr. Brinkley?” he stammered.

“Yes. Who is it?”

“Ah... uh... this is Robert Sutler. An... a friend of Babs!.. of... of Barbara’s... Miss Dorn.” Robert gulped miserably. “May I speak to her? That is... if she... if she hasn’t gone to bed.”

“She’s not gone to bed, I’m afraid,” the voice said sarcastically. “She’s not here at present. Shall I tell her you called?”

“Uh... when do you expect her in?” Robert asked desperately.

“I fear I can’t make any prediction about a maid and Mardi Gras,” the heavy voice chuckled. Robert thought the chuckle was demoniacal. “She and my daughter are together, and it may be hours before they return. And they may return at any moment. Do you wish to leave any message?”

“No, thank you,” Robert said faintly. He carefully hung the receiver on the hook and sank into the nearest chair. The lobby whirled about him madly, and there were dark specks interspersed with the mental mélange.

Babs was out!

“It may be hours before they return.”

The words beat through his brain maddeningly. Babs had failed him. He had not thought of this eventuality. He had been so sure that she would sense his coming. So sure that everything would right itself as soon as he reached the city.