The ethics of the question did not concern Fred.He did not weigh his duty to the State of New York, or to society.One day, when he had visited "the institution," as a somewhat sensitive neighborhood prefers to speak of it, he was told that the chance of a prisoner's escaping from Sing Sing and not being at once retaken was one out of six thousand.So with Fred it was largely a sporting proposition.Any man who could beat a six-thousand-to-one shot commanded his admiration.
And, having settled his own course of action, he tried to imagine himself in the place of the man who at that very moment was endeavoring to escape.Were he that man, he would first, he decided, rid himself of his tell-tale clothing.But that would leave him naked, and in Westchester County a naked man would be quite as conspicuous as one in the purple-gray cloth of the prison.How could he obtain clothes? He might hold up a passer-by, and, if the passer-by did not flee from him or punch him into insensibility, he might effect an exchange of garments;he might by threats obtain them from some farmer; he might despoil a scarecrow.
But with none of these plans was Fred entirely satisfied.The question deeply perplexed him.How best could a naked man clothe himself? And as he sat pondering that point, from the bushes a naked man emerged.He was not entirely undraped.For around his nakedness he had drawn a canvas awning.Fred recognized it as having been torn from one of the row-boats in the lake.But, except for that, the man was naked to his heels.He was a young man of Fred's own age.His hair was cut close, his face smooth-shaven, and above his eye was a half-healed bruise.He had the sharp, clever, rat-like face of one who lived by evil knowledge.Water dripped from him, and either for that reason or from fright the young man trembled, and, like one who had been running, breathed in short, hard gasps.
Fred was surprised to find that he was not in the least surprised.It was as though he had been waiting for the man, as though it had been an appointment.
Two thoughts alone concerned him: that before he could rid himself of his visitor his wife might return and take alarm, and that the man, not knowing his friendly intentions, and in a state to commit murder, might rush him.But the stranger made no hostile move, and for a moment in the moonlight the two young men eyed each other warily.
Then, taking breath and with a violent effort to stop the chattering of his teeth, the stranger launched into his story.
"I took a bath in your pond," he blurted forth, "and--and they stole my clothes! That's why I'm like this!"Fred was consumed with envy.In comparison with this ingenious narrative how prosaic and commonplace became his own plans to rid himself of accusing garments and explain his nakedness.He regarded the stranger with admiration.But even though he applauded the other's invention, he could not let him suppose that he was deceived by it.
"Isn't it rather a cold night to take a bath?" he said.
As though in hearty agreement, the naked man burst into a violent fit of shivering.
"It wasn't a bath," he gasped."It was a bet!""A what!" exclaimed Fred.His admiration was increasing."A bet?
Then you are not alone?"
"I am NOW--damn them!" exclaimed the naked one.He began again reluctantly."We saw you from the road, you and a woman, sitting here in the light from that room.They bet me I didn't dare strip and swim across your pond with you sitting so near.I can see now it was framed up on me from the start.For when I was swimming back I saw them run to where I'd left my clothes, and then Iheard them crank up, and when I got to the hedge the car was gone!"Keep smiled encouragingly."The car!" he assented."So you've been riding around in the moonlight?"The other nodded, and was about to speak when there burst in upon them the roaring scream of the siren.The note now was of deeper rage, and came in greater volume.Between his clinched teeth the naked one cursed fiercely, and then, as though to avoid further questions, burst into a fit of coughing.Trembling and shaking, he drew the canvas cloak closer to him.But at no time did his anxious, prying eyes leave the eyes of Keep.
"You--you couldn't lend me a suit of clothes could you?" he stuttered."Just for to-night? I'll send them back.It's all right," he added; reassuringly."I live near here."With a start Keep raised his eyes, and distressed by his look, the young man continued less confidently.
"I don't blame you if you don't believe it," he stammered, "seeing me like this; but I DO live right near here.Everybody around here knows me, and I guess you've read about me in the papers, too.I'm--that is, my name--" like one about to take a plunge he drew a short breath, and the rat-like eyes regarded Keep watchfully--"my name is Van Warden.I'm the one you read about--Harry--I'm Harry Van Warden!"After a pause, slowly and reprovingly Fred shook his head; but his smile was kindly even regretful, as though he were sorry he could not longer enjoy the stranger's confidences.
"My boy!" he exclaimed, "you're MORE than Van Warden! You're a genius!" He rose and made a peremptory gesture."Sorry," he said, "but this isn't safe for either of us.Follow me, and I'll dress you up and send you where you want to go." He turned and whispered over his shoulder: "Some day let me hear from you.Aman with your nerve--"
In alarm the naked one with a gesture commanded silence.
The library led to the front hall.In this was the coat-room.
First making sure the library and hall were free of servants, Fred tiptoed to the coat-room and, opening the door, switched: on the electric light.The naked man, leaving in his wake a trail of damp footprints, followed at his heels.
Fred pointed at golf-capes, sweaters, greatcoats hanging from hooks, and on the floor at boots and overshoes.
