Mrs. Rushmore never thought anything out. When she was in doubt, she
asked herself the same question, 'What had I better do?' or, 'What will
he or she do next?' over and over again, with a frantic determination
to be logical. And suddenly, sooner or later, the answer flashed upon
her in a sort of accidental way as if it were not looking for her, and
so completely outran all power of expression that she could not put it
into words at all, though she could act upon it well enough. The odd
part of it all was that these accidental revelations rarely misled her.
They were like fragments of a former world of excellent common-sense
that had gone to pieces, which she now and then encountered like
meteors in her own orbit.
When she had walked up and down for a quarter of an hour one of these
aeroliths of reason shot across the field of her mental sight, and she
understood that one of two things must have occurred. Either Alvah Moon
had lost confidence in his chances and had sold the invention to some
greenhorn for anything he could get; or else some one else had been so
deeply interested in the affair as to risk a great deal of money in it.
Mrs. Rushmore's gleam of intelligence was a comet; but her comet had
two tails, which was very confusing.
Her meditations were disturbed by the noise of a big motor car,
approaching the house from a distance, and heralding its advance with a
steadily rising whizz and a series of most unearthly toots. Motor cars
often passed the house and ran down the Boulevard St. Antoine at
frightful speed, for the beautiful road is generally clear; but
something, perhaps a small meteor again, warned her that this one was
going to stop at the gate and demand admittance for itself.
Thereupon Mrs. Rushmore looked at her fingers; for she kept up an
extensive correspondence, in the course of which she often inked them.
For forty years she had asked herself why she, who prided herself on
her fastidious neatness, should have been predestined and condemned to
have inky fingers like an untidy school-girl, and she had spent time
and money in search of an ink that would wash off easily and
completely, without the necessity of flaying her hands with pumice
stone and chemicals. When suddenly aware of the approach of an
unexpected visitor, she always looked at her fingers.
The thing came nearer, roared, sputtered, tooted and was silent. In the
silence Mrs. Rushmore heard the tinkle of the gate bell and in a few
moments she saw Logotheti coming towards her across the lawn. She was
not particularly pleased to see him.