“Oh, are you back, sir? Will you eat alone, sir?”
Looking into the dining-room, Canby saw with surprise that no preparations had been made for dinner.
“Why, where is everybody?” he demanded.
“I don’t know, sir. Miss Nella said she wouldn’t be back for dinner. She said to tell you she left a note for you in your room.”
Canby turned slowly toward the stairs with a heavy heart. He had felt this coming all afternoon. It was over. Then the spark of hope, still faintly alive, quickened within him, and he bounded up the stairs three at a time. He ran down the upper hall and dashed into his room. The note was there on his desk, addressed in her quaint round hand: “Mr. Fred Canby.” He tore it open.
I can’t help it; really I can’t. I’m so sorry. I’m going to marry Mr. Linwood this evening. We aren’t coming back. Please, please forgive me; you’ve been so kind to me— I’ll write to you later, and maybe you’ll think better of me.
Canby read it over three times, then slowly folded the sheet and placed it in his pocket. Then suddenly he took it out again and tore it into a dozen pieces; after which he walked to the window overlooking the garden and stood there crumpling the bits of paper in his hand. He stood very straight and motionless and his face was white and set like stone.
So youth had conquered! He smiled bitterly. No doubt it was all quite logical and proper and to be expected. Tom had made good; he was after all a worthy representative of the age of adventure. He had picked her up and ran off with her — with Nella, the sweetest and best and dearest girl in the world. She had heard the call of youth and had responded to it, and who was he to begrudge her happiness? An old worthless fossil!
Long after the dinner-bell rang he stood there. Finally he turned drearily and went downstairs, and, after informing Mrs. Wheeler curtly that he wanted no dinner, he went out into the fragrant peace of the garden.
Dusk was approaching; a cool breeze had sprung up and was rustling the leaves of the plants and shrubs. He strolled aimlessly along the paths, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.
But all at once his eyes were opened. Turning a bend in the path, there was a bench before him, and on the bench was seated a young man. Canby stopped short and stared at this young man with an expression of amazed stupidity, as if he had been a ghost. It was Tom Linwood.
“Hello!” said the youth, looking up dismally.
Canby continued to stare like an imbecile. “But what— You—” he stammered at last, and stopped.
Then:
“Where’s Nella?” he demanded.
“With her husband, I suppose,” was the reply.
“With her hus—! Are you crazy?”
The youth was unmoved in his stony gloom.
“I said, with her husband. That’s the proper place for a loving young wife, isn’t it?”
Then he burst forth suddenly:
“I don’t want to talk about her, I tell you! She’s a... she’s a— Oh damn it all, I don’t know what she is! Yes, I do!” He became dismally ironic: “She’s my aunt — my aunt Nella! She’s been throwing eyes at that old duffer all along and I didn’t know it; and he swallowed her bait. Oh, she’s a slick one! They got in the car and Uncle Garry tells me to be a good boy and hands me a note to give to you, and off they go!.. I forgot; I didn’t give you the note, did I? Here it is.”
Canby took it and tore it open. There were only a few lines.
Canby:
She belonged to you, but you wouldn’t take her; so the prize is mine. We are to be married this afternoon. That young fool Tom was making it too hot for me.
Canby dropped weakly on the bench and sat there in an idiotic daze. Coming out of it hours later, he uttered the words:
“Old fool!”
Goodness only knows whom he was talking about.
Appendix: The Early Fiction of Rex Stout
“Excess Baggage” Short Stories, October 1912[1]
“The Infernal Feminine” Short Stories, November 1912[2]
“The Paisley” Young’s Magazine, November 1912[3]
“Billy Du Mont, Reporter” Young’s Magazine, December 1912[4]
“A Professional Recall” The Black Cat, December 1912[5]
“Barnacles” Young’s Magazine, January 1913[6]
“Pamfret and Peace” The Black Cat, January 1913[7]
“A Companion of Fortune” Short Stories, April 1913[8]
“A White Precipitate” Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, June 1913[9]
“The Pickled Picnic” The Black Cat, June 1913[10]
“The Mother of Invention” The Black Cat, August 1913[11]
Her Forbidden Knight The All-Story, August 1913 to December 1913[12]
“Méthode Américaine” The Smart Set, November 1913[13]
“A Tyrant Abdicates” Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, January 1914[14]
“The Pay-Yeoman” The All-Story, January 1914[15]
Under the Andes The All-Story, February 1914[16]
“Secrets” All-Story Weekly, March 7, 1914[17]
“Rose Orchid” All-Story Weekly, March 28, 1914[18]
“An Agacella Or” Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, April 1914[19]
“The Inevitable Third” All-Story Weekly, April 25, 1914[20]
A Prize for Princes All-Story [Cavalier] Weekly, May 2 to May 30, 1914[21]
“Out of the Line” All-Story Cavalier Weekly, June 13, 1914[22]
“The Lie” All-Story Cavalier Weekly, July 4, 1914[23]
“Target Practise” All-Story Cavalier Weekly, December 26, 1914[24]
“If He Be Married” All-Star Cavalier Weekly, January 16, 1915[25]
“Baba” All-Star Cavalier Weekly, January 30, 1915[26]
“Warner & Wife” All-Story Cavalier Weekly, February 27, 1915[27]
“A Little Love Affair” Smith’s Magazine, July 1915[28]
“Art for Art’s Sake” Smith’s Magazine, August 1915[29]
“Another Little Love Affair” Smith’s Magazine, September 1915[30]
“Jonathan Stannard’s All-Story Weekly, September 11, Secret Vice” 1915[31]
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