AUNT JANE'S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN
Continued....
CHAPTER XVIII
THE SILENT MAN
Even the Major smiled benignantly when he reached
his appointed room
in the magnificent Hotel del Coronado, which is
famed throughout the
world.
"This," said he, "reminds me of New York; and it's
the first thing
that has, since I left home."
"Why, Daddy, it isn't like New York at all,"
protested Patsy, standing
beside him at the broad window overlooking the
ocean. "Did you ever
see a palm tree waving in New York; or daisy bushes
as tall as a man;
or such masses of roses and flowering vines? And
then just notice the
mountains over there--they're in Mexico, I'm
told--and this great
headland in the other direction; it's called Point
Loma. Oh, I never
imagined any place could be so beautiful!"
The others were equally excited, and Uncle John
said, smiling broadly:
"Well, we're here at last, my dears, and I'm sure we
are already well
paid for our trip across the continent. What
pleasant rooms these are.
If the hotel table is at all to be compared with the
house itself we
shall have a happy time here, which means we will
stay as long as
possible."
But the table was another surprise, for the meals
were equal to any
served in the great Eastern metropolis. Uncle John
complimented the
landlord, a cheery faced, fat little man who had at
one time managed
a famous New York hotel and had brought his talents
and experience to
far California.
"I'm sorry," said this gentle boniface, "that I
could not reserve
better rooms for you--for there are some choice
views from some
locations. I had a corner suite saved for your
party, a suite I
consider the most desirable in the hotel; but an
eccentric individual
arrived yesterday who demanded the entire suite, and
I had to let him
have it. He will not stay long, and as soon as he
goes you shall have
the rooms."
"Who is he?" asked Uncle John.
"A rich miner; a most melancholy and peculiar
person, by the way,"
replied landlord Ross. "I believe his name is
Jones."
Mr. Merrick started.
"Jones, and a miner?" he said. "What's his other
name--Anson?"
"We'll look and see," replied Mr. Ross, turning to
the hotel register.
"No; not Anson. He is registered as C.B. Jones, of
Boston."
"Oh; that's not the Jones at all," said Uncle John,
disappointed.
"It's the Jones who is our guest," replied the
landlord, smiling.
Meantime the three girls had gone for a walk along
the coast. The
beach is beautiful at Coronado. There is a high sea
wall of rock, and
the path runs along its edge almost the length of
the promontory. The
rocks are sloping, however, and it is not very
difficult to climb down
them to where the waves break against the wall.
Near the hotel they met straggling groups, strolling
in either
direction, but half a mile away the promenade was
practically
deserted. It was beginning to grow dark, and Beth
said, regretfully:
"We must get back, girls, and dress for dinner--an
unusual luxury,
isn't it? Our trunks arrived at the hotel two weeks
ago, and are now
in our rooms, doubtless, awaiting us to unpack
them."
"Don't let's return just yet," begged Myrtle. "I
want to see the sun
set."
"It will be gorgeous," said Patsy, glancing at the
sky; "but we can
see it from our windows, and as we're a long way
from the hotel now I
believe Beth's suggestion is wise."
So they began to retrace their steps. Myrtle still
walked with some
difficulty, and they had not proceeded far when Beth
exclaimed:
"Look at that man down there!"
Her companions followed her direction and saw
standing upon a huge
pile of rocks at the water's edge a slight, solitary
figure. Something
in the poise, as he leaned forward staring at the
darkened waves--for
the sun was low and cast shadows aslant the
water--struck Myrtle as
familiar.
"Oh, girls!" she exclaimed; "it's the Grand Canyon
man."
"Why, I believe it is," agreed Patsy. "What is he
doing?"
"Nothing," said Beth, briefly. "But he is going to
do something, I
think."
While they stared at him from their elevation the
man straightened an
instant and cast a hasty glance to either side. The
place seemed to
him deserted, for he failed to observe the group of
three intently
watching his motions from the high bank overhead.
Next moment he
turned back to the water and leaned over the edge of
rock again.
"Don't!" cried Myrtle, her clear voice ringing over
the lap of the
waves; "please don't!"
He swung around and turned his gaunt features upward
to where the
young girl leaned upon her crutches, with clasped
hands and a look of
distress upon her sweet face.
"Don't!" she repeated, pleadingly.
He passed his hand over his eyes with a very weary
gesture and looked
at Myrtle again--this time quite steadily. She was
trembling in every
limb and her cheeks were white with fear.
Slowly--very slowly--the man turned and began to
climb the rocks; not
directly upward to where the girls stood, but
diagonally, so as to
reach the walk some distance ahead of them. They did
not move until he
had gained the path and turned toward the hotel.
Then they followed
and kept him in sight until he reached the entrance
to the court and
disappeared within.
"I wonder," said Patsy, as they made their way to
their rooms,
"whether he really was thinking of plunging into the
ocean; or whether
that time at the Grand Canyon he had a notion of
jumping into the
chasm."
"If so," added Beth, "Myrtle has saved his life
twice. But she can't
be always near to watch the man, and if he has
suicidal intentions,
he'll make an end of himself, sooner or later,
without a doubt."
"Perhaps," said Myrtle, hesitatingly, "I am quite
wrong, and the
strange man had no intention of doing himself an
injury. But each time
I obeyed an impulse that compelled me to cry out;
and afterward I have
been much ashamed of my forwardness."
They did not see the melancholy man at dinner; but
afterward, in the
spacious lobby, they discovered him sitting in a far
corner reading a
magazine. He seemed intent on this occupation and
paid no attention to
the life around him. The girls called Uncle John's
attention to him,
and Mr. Merrick at once recognized him as the same
individual they had
met at the Grand Canyon.
"But I am not especially pleased to encounter him
again," he said with
a slight frown; "for, if I remember aright, he acted
very rudely to
Myrtle and proved unsociable when I made overtures
and spoke to him."
"I wonder who he is?" mused Patsy, watching the
weary, haggard
features as his eyes slowly followed the lines of
his magazine.
"I'll inquire and find out," replied her uncle.
The cherubic landlord was just then pacing up and
down the lobby,
pausing here and there to interchange a word with
his guests. Uncle
John approached him and said:
"Can you tell me, Mr. Ross, who the gentleman is in
the corner?"
The landlord looked around at the corner and smiled.
"That," said he, "is the gentleman we spoke of this
afternoon--Mr.
C.B. Jones--the man who usurped the rooms intended
for you."
"Rooms?" repeated Uncle John. "Has he a large party,
then?"
"He is alone; that is the queer part of it,"
returned the landlord.
"Nor has he much baggage. But he liked the suite--a
parlor with five
rooms opening out of it--and insisted upon having
them all, despite
the fact that it is one of the most expensive suites
in the hotel. I
said he was eccentric, did I not?"
"You were justified," said Mr. Merrick, thought
fully. "Thank you,
sir, for the information."
Even as he rejoined the girls, who were seated
together upon a broad
divan, the man arose, laid down his magazine and
came slowly down
the room, evidently headed for the elevator. But
with a start he
recognized the girl who had accosted him on the
beach, and the others
with her, and for an instant came to a full stop
before the group, his
sad eyes fixed intently upon Myrtle's face.
The situation was a bit awkward, and to relieve it
Uncle John remarked
in his cheery voice:
"Well, Mr. Jones, we meet again, you see."
The man turned slowly and faced him; then bowed in a
mechanical way
and proceeded to the elevator, into which he
disappeared.
Naturally Uncle John was indignant.
"Confound the fellow!" he exclaimed. "He's worse
than a boor. But
perhaps his early education was neglected."
"Did you call him Mr. Jones, sir?" asked Myrtle in a
voice that
trembled with excitement.
"Yes, my dear; but it is not your Uncle Anson. I've
inquired about
him. The Joneses are pretty thick, wherever you go;
but I hope not
many are like this fellow."
"Something's wrong with him," declared Patsy. "He's
had some sad
bereavement--a great blow of some sort--and it has
made him somber and
melancholy. He doesn't seem to know he acts rudely.
You can tell by
the man's eyes that he is unhappy."
"His eyes have neither color nor expression,"
remarked Beth. "At his
best, this Mr. Jones must have been an undesirable
acquaintance."
"You can't be sure of that," returned Patsy; "and
I'm positive my
theory is correct. More and more am I inclined to
agree with Myrtle
that he is disgusted with life, and longs to end
it."
"Let him, then," retorted Uncle John. "I'm sure such
a person is of no
use to the world, and if he doesn't like himself
he's better out of
it."
That kindly Mr. Merrick should give vent to such a
heartless speech
proved how much annoyed he had been by Mr. Jones'
discourtesy.
"He might be reclaimed, and--and comforted," said
Myrtle, softly.
"When I think of the happiness you have brought into
my life, sir, I
long to express my gratitude by making some one else
happy."
"You're doing it, little one," he answered, pinching
her cheek. "If
we've brought a bit of sunshine into your life we've
reaped an ample
reward in your companionship. But if you can find a
way to comfort
that man Jones, and fetch him out of his dumps, you
are certainly a
more wonderful fairy than I've given you credit
for."
Myrtle did not reply to this, although it pleased
her. She presently
pleaded weariness and asked permission to return to
her room. Beth
and Patsy wanted to go into the great domed ballroom
and watch the
dancing; so Myrtle bade them good night and ascended
by the elevator
to her floor.
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN
Continued....
 
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