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diff --git a/old/14204-h/14204-h.htm b/old/14204-h/14204-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85ba811 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14204-h/14204-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11590 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?> +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of + The Lion and the Mouse, by Charles Klein</title> + <style type="text/css"><!-- + body {margin-left:15%; margin-right:15%} + p {text-align:justify} + ins {color:red} + cite {font-style:normal; font-variant:small-caps} + span.sc {font-variant:small-caps} + /* Indents and alignment */ + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align:center} + img {border:0; text-align:center} + .illustration {margin:1ex; text-align:center} + td {vertical-align:top; padding:1ex} + td.toc {vertical-align:middle} + blockquote {margin:0.5ex 6ex} + .right {text-align:right} + .central {text-align:center} + .closing {margin-left:50%} + .signature {margin-left:60%} + /* Page-number display code */ + /* + a.pagebreak:after {color:red; display:inline; content:"["attr(title)"]"} + */ + --></style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lion and The Mouse, by Charles Klein + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lion and The Mouse + A Story Of American Life + +Author: Charles Klein + +Release Date: November 29, 2004 [EBook #14204] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION AND THE MOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Daniel Emerson Griffith and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page1" id="page1" title="1"></a> +<a name="photo1" id="photo1"></a> +<blockquote class="illustration"><a href="images/photo1.jpg"> +<img src="images/photo1.png" width="261" height="449" +alt="[Photo, from the play, +of Shirley appealing to Mr. Ryder]" /></a></blockquote> +<blockquote class="central">“Go to Washington and +save my father's life.”—Act III.</blockquote> +<blockquote class="right"><i>Frontispiece.</i></blockquote> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page2" id="page2" title="2"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page3" id="page3" title="3"></a> +<h1>THE LION AND THE MOUSE</h1> + +<h3><small>BY</small><br />CHARLES KLEIN</h3> + +<h3><big>A Story <i>of</i> American Life</big><br /> +<small>NOVELIZED FROM THE PLAY BY</small><br />ARTHUR HORNBLOW</h3> + +<blockquote class="central"> +“Judges and Senators have been bought for gold;<br /> + Love and esteem have never been sold.”—<cite>Pope</cite> +</blockquote> + +<hr width="20%" align="center" /> + +<h3><small>ILLUSTRATED BY</small><br />STUART TRAVIS<br /> +<small>AND</small><br />SCENES FROM THE PLAY</h3> + +<hr width="20%" align="center" /> + +<h3>GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> +<span class="sc">Publishers—New York</span></h3> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page4" id="page4" title="4"></a> +<h5>G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY</h5> +<h5><i>Entered at Stationers' Hall, London</i></h5> +<h5>Issued August, 1906</h5> + +<hr width="100%" /> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page5" id="page5" title="5"></a> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table><tr><td class="toc"><ul> +<li><a href="#chapter1">Chapter I</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter2">Chapter II</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter3">Chapter III</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter4">Chapter IV</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter5">Chapter V</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter6">Chapter VI</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter7">Chapter VII</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter8">Chapter VIII</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter9">Chapter IX</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter10">Chapter X</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter11">Chapter XI</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter12">Chapter XII</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter13">Chapter XIII</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter14">Chapter XIV</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter15">Chapter XV</a></li> +<li><a href="#chapter16">Chapter XVI</a></li> +</ul></td><td class="toc"><h4>Illustrations</h4><ul> +<li><a href="#photo1">Photograph of Shirley and Mr. Ryder</a></li> +<li><a href="#illus1">Pencil Drawing of the Meeting</a></li> +<li><a href="#photo2">Photograph of the Ryder Household</a></li> +<li><a href="#illus2">Pencil Drawing of Shirley and her Father</a></li> +<li><a href="#photo3">Photograph of Shirley and Mr. Ryder</a></li> +<li><a href="#photo4">Photograph of Shirley and Mr. Ryder</a></li> +<li><a href="#photo5">Photograph of Jefferson, Shirley and Mr. Ryder</a></li> +<li><a href="#photo6">Photograph of Shirley and Mr. Ryder</a></li> +</ul></td></tr></table> + +<hr width="100%" /> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page6" id="page6" title="6"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page7" id="page7" title="7"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page8" id="page8" title="8"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page9" id="page9" title="9"></a> +<h2><i>The Lion and the Mouse</i></h2> + +<a name="chapter1" id="chapter1"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p>There was unwonted bustle in the usually sleepy and dignified +New York offices of the Southern and Transcontinental Railroad +Company in lower Broadway. The supercilious, well-groomed clerks +who, on ordinary days, are far too preoccupied with their own +personal affairs to betray the slightest interest in anything not +immediately concerning them, now condescended to bestir themselves +and, gathered in little groups, conversed in subdued, eager tones. +The slim, nervous fingers of half a dozen haughty stenographers, +representing as many different types of business femininity, were +busily rattling the keys of clicking typewriters, each of their +owners intent on reducing with all possible despatch the mass of +letters which lay piled up in front of her. Through the heavy +plate-glass swinging doors, leading to the elevators and thence to +the street, came and went an army of messengers and telegraph +boys, noisy and insolent.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page10" id="page10" title="10"></a> +<p>Through the open windows the hoarse shouting of news-venders, +the rushing of elevated trains, the clanging of street cars, with +the occasional feverish dash of an ambulance—all these +familiar noises of a great city had the far-away sound peculiar to +top floors of the modern sky-scraper. The day was warm and sticky, +as is not uncommon in early May, and the overcast sky and a +distant rumbling of thunder promised rain before night.</p> + +<p>The big express elevators, running smoothly and swiftly, +unloaded every few moments a number of prosperous-looking men who, +chatting volubly and affably, made their way immediately through +the outer offices towards another and larger inner office on the +glass door of which was the legend “Directors Room. +Private.” Each comer gave a patronizing nod in recognition +of the deferential salutation of the clerks. Earlier arrivals had +preceded them, and as they opened the door there issued from the +Directors Room a confused murmur of voices, each different in +pitch and tone, some deep and deliberate, others shrill and +nervous, but all talking earnestly and with animation as men do +when the subject under discussion is of common interest. Now and +again a voice was heard high above the others, denoting anger in +the speaker, followed by the pleading accents +<a class="pagebreak" name="page11" id="page11" title="11"></a> +of the peace-maker, who was arguing his irate colleague into +calmness. At intervals the door opened to admit other arrivals, +and through the crack was caught a glimpse of a dozen directors, +some seated, some standing near a long table covered with green +baize.</p> + +<p>It was the regular quarterly meeting of the directors of the +Southern and Transcontinental Railroad Company, but it was +something more than mere routine that had called out a quorum of +such strength and which made to-day's gathering one of +extraordinary importance in the history of the road. That the +business on hand was of the greatest significance was easily to be +inferred from the concerned and anxious expression on the +directors' faces and the eagerness of the employés as they plied +each other with questions.</p> + +<p>“Suppose the injunction is sustained?” asked a +clerk in a whisper. “Is not the road rich enough to bear the +loss?”</p> + +<p>The man he addressed turned impatiently to the questioner:</p> + +<p>“That's all you know about railroading. Don't you +understand that this suit we have lost will be the entering wedge +for hundreds of others. The very existence of the road may be at +stake. And between +<a class="pagebreak" name="page12" id="page12" title="12"></a> +you and me,” he added in a lower key, “with Judge +Rossmore on the bench we never stood much show. It's Judge +Rossmore that scares 'em, not the injunction. They've found it +easy to corrupt most of the Supreme Court judges, but Judge +Rossmore is one too many for them. You could no more bribe him +than you could have bribed Abraham Lincoln.”</p> + +<p>“But the newspapers say that he, too, has been caught +accepting $50,000 worth of stock for that decision he rendered in +the Great Northwestern case.”</p> + +<p>“Lies! All those stories are lies,” replied the +other emphatically. Then looking cautiously around to make sure no +one overheard he added contemptuously, “The big interests +fear him, and they're inventing these lies to try and injure him. +They might as well try to blow up Gibraltar. The fact is the +public is seriously aroused this time and the railroads are in a +panic.”</p> + +<p>It was true. The railroad, which heretofore had considered +itself superior to law, had found itself checked in its career of +outlawry and oppression. The railroad, this modern octopus of +steam and steel which stretches its greedy tentacles out over the +land, had at last been brought to book.</p> + +<p>At first, when the country was in the earlier stages of its +development, the railroad appeared in the guise of a public +benefactor. It brought to the markets of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page13" id="page13" title="13"></a> +the East the produce of the South and West. It opened up new and +inaccessible territory and made oases of waste places. It brought +to the city coal, lumber, food and other prime necessaries of +life, taking back to the farmer and the woodsman in exchange, +clothes and other manufactured goods. Thus, little by little, the +railroad wormed itself into the affections of the people and +gradually became an indispensable part of the life it had itself +created. Tear up the railroad and life itself is +extinguished.</p> + +<p>So when the railroad found it could not be dispensed with, it +grew dissatisfied with the size of its earnings. Legitimate +profits were not enough. Its directors cried out for bigger +dividends, and from then on the railroad became a conscienceless +tyrant, fawning on those it feared and crushing without mercy +those who were defenceless. It raised its rates for hauling +freight, discriminating against certain localities without reason +or justice, and favouring other points where its own interests +lay. By corrupting government officials and other unlawful methods +it appropriated lands, and there was no escape from its exactions +and brigandage. Other roads were built, and for a brief period +there was held out the hope of relief that invariably comes from +honest competition. But the railroad either absorbed its rivals or +pooled interests with +<a class="pagebreak" name="page14" id="page14" title="14"></a> +them, and thereafter there were several masters instead of +one.</p> + +<p>Soon the railroads began to war among themselves, and in a mad +scramble to secure business at any price they cut each other's +rates and unlawfully entered into secret compacts with certain big +shippers, permitting the latter to enjoy lower freight rates than +their competitors. The smaller shippers were soon crushed out of +existence in this way. Competition was throttled and prices went +up, making the railroad barons richer and the people poorer. That +was the beginning of the giant Trusts, the greatest evil American +civilization has yet produced, and one which, unless checked, will +inevitably drag this country into the throes of civil strife.</p> + +<p>From out this quagmire of corruption and rascality emerged the +Colossus, a man so stupendously rich and with such unlimited +powers for evil that the world has never looked upon his like. The +famous Crœsus, whose fortune was estimated at only eight +millions in our money, was a pauper compared with John Burkett +Ryder, whose holdings no man could count, but which were +approximately estimated at a thousand millions of dollars. The +railroads had created the Trust, the ogre of corporate greed, of +which Ryder was the incarnation, and in time the Trust became +<a class="pagebreak" name="page15" id="page15" title="15"></a> +master of the railroads, which after all seemed but retributive +justice.</p> + +<p>John Burkett Ryder, the richest man in the world—the man +whose name had spread to the farthest corners of the earth because +of his wealth, and whose money, instead of being a blessing, +promised to become not only a curse to himself but a source of +dire peril to all mankind—was a genius born of the railroad +age. No other age could have brought him forth; his peculiar +talents fitted exactly the conditions of his time. Attracted early +in life to the newly discovered oil fields of Pennsylvania, he +became a dealer in the raw product and later a refiner, acquiring +with capital, laboriously saved, first one refinery, then another. +The railroads were cutting each other's throats to secure the +freight business of the oil men, and John Burkett Ryder saw his +opportunity. He made secret overtures to the road, guaranteeing a +vast amount of business if he could get exceptionally low rates, +and the illegal compact was made. His competitors, undersold in +the market, stood no chance, and one by one they were crushed out +of existence. Ryder called these manœuvres +“business”; the world called them brigandage. But the +Colossus prospered and slowly built up the foundations of the +extraordinary fortune which is the talk and the wonder of the +world to-day. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page16" id="page16" title="16"></a> +Master now of the oil situation, Ryder succeeded in his ambition +of organizing the Empire Trading Company, the most powerful, the +most secretive, and the most wealthy business institution the +commercial world has yet known.</p> + +<p>Yet with all this success John Burkett Ryder was still not +content. He was now a rich man, richer by many millions that he +had dreamed he could ever be, but still he was unsatisfied. He +became money mad. He wanted to be richer still, to be the richest +man in the world, the richest man the world had ever known. And +the richer he got the stronger the idea grew upon him with all the +force of a morbid obsession. He thought of money by day, he +dreamt of it at night. No matter by what questionable device it +was to be procured, more gold and more must flow into his already +overflowing coffers. So each day, instead of spending the rest of +his years in peace, in the enjoyment of the wealth he had +accumulated, he went downtown like any twenty-dollar-a-week clerk +to the tall building in lower Broadway and, closeted with his +associates, toiled and plotted to make more money.</p> + +<p>He acquired vast copper mines and secured control of this and +that railroad. He had invested heavily in the Southern and +Transcontinental road and was chairman of its board of directors. +Then he and his +<a class="pagebreak" name="page17" id="page17" title="17"></a> +fellow-conspirators planned a great financial coup. The millions +were not coming in fast enough. They must make a hundred millions +at one stroke. They floated a great mining company to which the +public was invited to subscribe. The scheme having the endorsement +of the Empire Trading Company no one suspected a snare, and such +was the magic of John Ryder's name that gold flowed in from every +point of the compass. The stock sold away above par the day it was +issued. Men deemed themselves fortunate if they were even granted +an allotment. What matter if, a few days later, the house of cards +came tumbling down, and a dozen suicides were strewn along Wall +Street, that sinister thoroughfare which, as a wit has said, has a +graveyard at one end and the river at the other! Had Ryder any +twinges of conscience? Hardly. Had he not made a cool twenty +millions by the deal?</p> + +<p>Yet this commercial pirate, this Napoleon of finance, was not a +wholly bad man. He had his redeeming qualities, like most bad men. +His most pronounced weakness, and the one that had made him the +most conspicuous man of his time, was an entire lack of moral +principle. No honest or honourable man could have amassed such +stupendous wealth. In other words, John Ryder had not been +equipped by Nature +<a class="pagebreak" name="page18" id="page18" title="18"></a> +with a conscience. He had no sense of right, or wrong, or justice +where his own interests were concerned. He was the prince of +egoists. On the other hand, he possessed qualities which, with +some people, count as virtues. He was pious and regular in his +attendance at church and, while he had done but little for +charity, he was known to have encouraged the giving of alms by the +members of his family, which consisted of a wife, whose timid +voice was rarely heard, and a son Jefferson, who was the destined +successor to his gigantic estate.</p> + +<p>Such was the man who was the real power behind the Southern and +Transcontinental Railroad. More than anyone else Ryder had been +aroused by the present legal action, not so much for the money +interest at stake as that any one should dare to thwart his will. +It had been a pet scheme of his, this purchase for a song, when +the land was cheap, of some thousand acres along the line, and it +is true that at the time of the purchase there had been some idea +of laying the land out as a park. But real estate values had +increased in astonishing fashion, the road could no longer afford +to carry out the original scheme, and had attempted to dispose of +the property for building purposes, including a right of way for a +branch road. The news, made public in the newspapers, had raised +<a class="pagebreak" name="page19" id="page19" title="19"></a> +a storm of protest. The people in the vicinity claimed that the +railroad secured the land on the express condition of a park being +laid out, and in order to make a legal test they had secured an +injunction, which had been sustained by Judge Rossmore of the +United States Circuit Court.</p> + +<p>These details were hastily told and re-told by one clerk to +another as the babel of voices in the inner room grew louder, and +more directors kept arriving from the ever-busy elevators. The +meeting was called for three o'clock. Another five minutes and the +chairman would rap for order. A tall, strongly built man with +white moustache and kindly smile emerged from the directors room +and, addressing one of the clerks, asked:</p> + +<p>“Has Mr. Ryder arrived yet?”</p> + +<p>The alacrity with which the employé hastened forward to reply +would indicate that his interlocutor was a person of more than +ordinary importance.</p> + +<p>“No, Senator, not yet. We expect him any minute.” +Then with a deferential smile he added: “Mr. Ryder usually +arrives on the stroke, sir.”</p> + +<p>The senator gave a nod of acquiescence and, turning on his +heel, greeted with a grasp of the hand and affable smile his +fellow-directors as they passed in by twos and threes.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page20" id="page20" title="20"></a> +<p>Senator Roberts was in the world of politics what his friend +John Burkett Ryder was in the world of finance—a leader of +men. He started life in Wisconsin as an errand boy, was educated +in the public schools, and later became clerk in a dry-goods +store, finally going into business for his own account on a large +scale. He was elected to the Legislature, where his ability as an +organizer soon gained the friendship of the men in power, and +later was sent to Congress, where he was quickly initiated in the +game of corrupt politics. In 1885 he entered the United States +Senate. He soon became the acknowledged leader of a considerable +majority of the Republican senators, and from then on he was a +figure to be reckoned with. A very ambitious man, with a great +love of power and few scruples, it is little wonder that only the +practical or dishonest side of politics appealed to him. He was in +politics for all there was in it, and he saw in his lofty position +only a splendid opportunity for easy graft.</p> + +<p>He did not hesitate to make such alliances with corporate +interests seeking influence at Washington as would enable him to +accomplish this purpose, and in this way he had met and formed a +strong friendship with John Burkett Ryder. Each being a master in +his own field was useful to the other. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page21" id="page21" title="21"></a> +Neither was troubled with qualms of conscience, so they never +quarrelled. If the Ryder interests needed anything in the Senate, +Roberts and his followers were there to attend to it. Just now the +cohort was marshalled in defence of the railroads against the +attacks of the new Rebate bill. In fact, Ryder managed to keep the +Senate busy all the time. When, on the other hand, the senators +wanted anything—and they often did—Ryder saw that they +got it, lower rates for this one, a fat job for that one, not +forgetting themselves. Senator Roberts was already a very rich +man, and although the world often wondered where he got it, no one +had the courage to ask him.</p> + +<p>But the Republican leader was stirred with an ambition greater +than that of controlling a majority in the Senate. He had a +daughter, a marriageable young woman who, at least in her father's +opinion, would make a desirable wife for any man. His friend Ryder +had a son, and this son was the only heir to the greatest fortune +ever amassed by one man, a fortune which, at its present rate of +increase, by the time the father died and the young couple were +ready to inherit, would probably amount to over <i>six billions of +dollars</i>. Could the human mind grasp the possibilities of such +a colossal fortune? It staggered the imagination. Its owner, or +the man who controlled +<a class="pagebreak" name="page22" id="page22" title="22"></a> +it, would be master of the world! Was not this a prize any man +might well set himself out to win? The senator was thinking of it +now as he stood exchanging banal remarks with the men who accosted +him. If he could only bring off that marriage he would be content. +The ambition of his life would be attained. There was no +difficulty as far as John Ryder was concerned. He favoured the +match and had often spoken of it. Indeed, Ryder desired it, for +such an alliance would naturally further his business interests in +every way. Roberts knew that his daughter Kate had more than a +liking for Ryder's handsome young son. Moreover, Kate was +practical, like her father, and had sense enough to realize what +it would mean to be the mistress of the Ryder fortune. No, Kate +was all right, but there was young Ryder to reckon with. It would +take two in this case to make a bargain.</p> + +<p>Jefferson Ryder was, in truth, an entirely different man from +his father. It was difficult to realize that both had sprung from +the same stock. A college-bred boy with all the advantages his +father's wealth could give him, he had inherited from the parent +only those characteristics which would have made him successful +even if born poor—activity, pluck, application, dogged +obstinacy, alert mentality. To these qualities he +<a class="pagebreak" name="page23" id="page23" title="23"></a> +added what his father sorely lacked—a high notion of honour, +a keen sense of right and wrong. He had the honest man's contempt +for meanness of any description, and he had little patience with +the lax so-called business morals of the day. For him a +dishonourable or dishonest action could have no apologist, and he +could see no difference between the crime of the hungry wretch who +stole a loaf of bread and the coal baron who systematically robbed +both his employés and the public. In fact, had he been on the +bench he would probably have acquitted the human derelict who, in +despair, had appropriated the prime necessary of life, and sent +the over-fed, conscienceless coal baron to jail.</p> + +<p>“Do unto others as you would have others do unto +you.” This simple and fundamental axiom Jefferson Ryder had +adopted early in life, and it had become his religion—the +only one, in fact, that he had. He was never pious like his +father, a fact much regretted by his mother, who could see nothing +but eternal damnation in store for her son because he never went +to church and professed no orthodox creed. She knew him to be a +good lad, but to her simple mind a conduct of life based merely on +a system of moral philosophy was the worst kind of paganism. There +could, she argued, be no religion, and assuredly no salvation, +outside the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page24" id="page24" title="24"></a> +dogmatic teachings of the Church. But otherwise Jefferson was a +model son and, with the exception of this bad habit of thinking +for himself on religious matters, really gave her no anxiety. When +Jefferson left college, his father took him into the Empire +Trading Company with the idea of his eventually succeeding him as +head of the concern, but the different views held by father and +son on almost every subject soon led to stormy scenes that made +the continuation of the arrangement impossible. Senator Roberts +was well aware of these unfortunate independent tendencies in John +Ryder's son, and while he devoutly desired the consummation of +Jefferson's union with his daughter, he quite realized that the +young man was a nut which was going to be exceedingly hard to +crack.</p> + +<p>“Hello, senator, you're always on time!”</p> + +<p>Disturbed in his reflections, Senator Roberts looked up and saw +the extended hand of a red-faced, corpulent man, one of the +directors. He was no favourite with the senator, but the latter +was too keen a man of the world to make enemies uselessly, so he +condescended to place two fingers in the outstretched fat +palm.</p> + +<p>“How are you, Mr. Grimsby? Well, what are we going to do +about this injunction? The case has gone against us. I knew Judge +Rossmore's decision +<a class="pagebreak" name="page25" id="page25" title="25"></a> +would be for the other side. Public opinion is aroused. The +press—”</p> + +<p>Mr. Grimsby's red face grew more apoplectic as he blurted +out:</p> + +<p>“Public opinion and the press be d——d. Who +cares for public opinion? What is public opinion, anyhow? This +road can manage its own affairs or it can't. If it can't I for one +quit railroading. The press! Pshaw! It's all graft, I tell you. +It's nothing but a strike! I never knew one of these virtuous +outbursts that wasn't. First the newspapers bark ferociously to +advertise themselves; then they crawl round and whine like a cur. +And it usually costs something to fix matters.”</p> + +<p>The senator smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>“No, no, Grimsby—not this time. It's more serious +than that. Hitherto the road has been unusually lucky in its bench +decisions—”</p> + +<p>The senator gave a covert glance round to see if any long ears +were listening. Then he added:</p> + +<p>“We can't expect always to get a favourable decision like +that in the Cartwright case, when franchise rights valued at +nearly five millions were at stake. Judge Stollmann proved +himself a true friend in that affair.”</p> + +<p>Grimsby made a wry grimace as he retorted:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page26" id="page26" title="26"></a> +<a name="insquote1" id="insquote1"></a> +<p>“Yes, and it was worth it to him. A Supreme Court judge +don't get a cheque for $20,000 every day. That represents two +years' pay.”</p> + +<p>“It might represent two years in jail if it were found +out,” said the senator with a forced laugh,</p> + +<p>Grimsby saw an opportunity, and he could not resist the +temptation. Bluntly he said:</p> + +<p>“As far as jail's concerned, others might be getting +their deserts there too.”</p> + +<p>The senator looked keenly at Grimsby from under his white +eyebrows. Then in a calm, decisive tone he replied:</p> + +<p>“It's no question of a cheque this time. The road could +not buy Judge Rossmore with $200,000. He is absolutely +unapproachable in that way.”</p> + +<p>The apoplectic face of Mr. Grimsby looked incredulous.</p> + +<p>It was hard for these men who plotted in the dark, and cheated +the widow and the orphan for love of the dollar, to understand +that there were in the world, breathing the same air as they, men +who put honour, truth and justice above mere money-getting. With a +slight tinge of sarcasm he asked:</p> + +<p>“Is there any man in our public life who is +unapproachable from some direction or other?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Judge Rossmore is such a man. He is one +<a class="pagebreak" name="page27" id="page27" title="27"></a> +of the few men in American public life who takes his duties +seriously. In the strictest sense of the term, he serves his +country instead of serving himself. I am no friend of his, but I +must do him that justice.”</p> + +<p>He spoke sharply, in an irritated tone, as if resenting the +insinuation of this vulgarian that every man in public life had +his price. Roberts knew that the charge was true as far as he and +the men he consorted with were concerned, but sometimes the truth +hurts. That was why he had for a moment seemed to champion Judge +Rossmore, which, seeing that the judge himself was at that very +moment under a cloud, was an absurd thing for him to do.</p> + +<p>He had known Rossmore years before when the latter was a city +magistrate in New York. That was before he, Roberts, had become a +political grafter and when the decent things in life still +appealed to him. The two men, although having few interests in +common, had seen a good deal of one another until Roberts went to +Washington when their relations were completely severed. But he +had always watched Rossmore's career, and when he was made a judge +of the Supreme Court at a comparatively early age he was sincerely +glad. If anything could have convinced Roberts that success can +come in public life to a man who pursues it by honest methods it +was the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page28" id="page28" title="28"></a> +success of James Rossmore. He could never help feeling that +Rossmore had been endowed by Nature with certain qualities which +had been denied to him, above all that ability to walk straight +through life with skirts clean which he had found impossible +himself. To-day Judge Rossmore was one of the most celebrated +judges in the country. He was a brilliant jurist and a splendid +after-dinner speaker. He was considered the most learned and able +of all the members of the judiciary, and his decisions were noted +as much for their fearlessness as for their wisdom. But what was +far more, he enjoyed a reputation for absolute integrity. Until +now no breath of slander, no suspicion of corruption, had ever +touched him. Even his enemies acknowledged that. And that is why +there was a panic to-day among the directors of the Southern and +Transcontinental Railroad. This honest, upright man had been +called upon in the course of his duty to decide matters of vital +importance to the road, and the directors were ready to stampede +because, in their hearts, they knew the weakness of their case and +the strength of the judge.</p> + +<p>Grimsby, unconvinced, returned to the charge.</p> + +<p>“What about these newspaper charges? Did Judge Rossmore +take a bribe from the Great Northwestern or didn't he? You ought +to know.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page29" id="page29" title="29"></a> +<p>“I do know,” answered the senator cautiously and +somewhat curtly, “but until Mr. Ryder arrives I can say +nothing. I believe he has been inquiring into the matter. He will +tell us when he comes.”</p> + +<p>The hands of the large clock in the outer room pointed to +three. An active, dapper little man with glasses and with books +under his arm passed hurriedly from another office into the +directors room.</p> + +<p>“There goes Mr. Lane with the minutes. The meeting is +called. Where's Mr. Ryder?”</p> + +<p>There was a general move of the scattered groups of directors +toward the committee room. The clock overhead began to strike. The +last stroke had not quite died away when the big swinging doors +from the street were thrown open and there entered a tall, thin +man, gray-headed, and with a slight stoop, but keen eyed and +alert. He was carefully dressed in a well-fitting frock coat, +white waistcoat, black tie and silk hat.</p> + +<p>It was John Burkett Ryder, the Colossus.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page30" id="page30" title="30"></a> +<a name="chapter2" id="chapter2"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p>At fifty-six, John Burkett Ryder was surprisingly well +preserved. With the exception of the slight stoop, already noted, +and the rapidly thinning snow-white hair, his step was as light +and elastic, and his brain as vigorous and alert, as in a man of +forty. Of old English stock, his physical make-up presented all +those strongly marked characteristics of our race which, sprung +from Anglo-Saxon ancestry, but modified by nearly 300 years of +different climate and customs, has gradually produced the distinct +and true American type, as easily recognizable among the family of +nations as any other of the earth's children. Tall and +distinguished-looking, Ryder would have attracted attention +anywhere. Men who have accomplished much in life usually bear +plainly upon their persons the indefinable stamp of achievement, +whether of good or evil, which renders them conspicuous among +their fellows. We turn after a man in the street and ask, Who is +he? And nine times out of ten the object of our curiosity is a man +who has made his mark—a successful soldier, a famous sailor, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page31" id="page31" title="31"></a> +a celebrated author, a distinguished lawyer, or even a notorious +crook.</p> + +<p>There was certainly nothing in John Ryder's outward appearance +to justify Lombroso's sensational description of him: “A +social and physiological freak, a degenerate and a prodigy of +turpitude who, in the pursuit of money, crushes with the +insensibility of a steel machine everyone who stands in his +way.” On the contrary, Ryder, outwardly at least, was a +prepossessing-looking man. His head was well-shaped, and he had an +intellectual brow, while power was expressed in every gesture of +his hands and body. Every inch of him suggested strength and +resourcefulness. His face, when in good humour, frequently +expanded in a pleasant smile, and he had even been known to laugh +boisterously, usually at his own stories, which he rightly +considered very droll, and of which he possessed a goodly stock. +But in repose his face grew stern and forbidding, and when his +prognathous jaw, indicative of will-power and bull-dog tenacity, +snapped to with a click-like sound, those who heard it knew that +squalls were coming.</p> + +<p>But it was John Ryder's eyes that were regarded as the most +reliable barometer of his mental condition. Wonderful eyes they +were, strangely eloquent and expressive, and their most singular +feature was that they +<a class="pagebreak" name="page32" id="page32" title="32"></a> +possessed the uncanny power of changing colour like a cat's. When +their owner was at peace with the world, and had temporarily +shaken off the cares of business, his eyes were of the most +restful, beautiful blue, like the sky after sunrise on a Spring +morning, and looking into their serene depths it seemed absurd to +think that this man could ever harm a fly. His face, while under +the spell of this kindly mood, was so benevolent and gentle, so +frank and honest that you felt there was nothing in the +world—purse, honour, wife, child—that, if needs be, +you would not entrust to his keeping.</p> + +<p>When this period of truce was ended, when the plutocrat was +once more absorbed in controlling the political as well as the +commercial machinery of the nation, then his eyes took on a +snakish, greenish hue, and one could plainly read in them the +cunning, the avariciousness, the meanness, the insatiable thirst +for gain that had made this man the most unscrupulous money-getter +of his time. But his eyes had still another colour, and when this +last transformation took place those dependent on him, and even +his friends, quaked with fear. For they were his eyes of anger. +On these dreaded occasions his eyes grew black as darkest night +and flashed fire as lightning rends the thundercloud. Almost +ungovernable fury was, indeed, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page33" id="page33" title="33"></a> +the weakest spot in John Ryder's armour, for in these moments of +appalling wrath he was reckless of what he said or did, +friendship, self-interest, prudence—all were sacrificed.</p> + +<p>Such was the Colossus on whom all eyes were turned as he +entered. Instantly the conversations stopped as by magic. The +directors nudged each other and whispered. Instinctively, Ryder +singled out his crony, Senator Roberts, who advanced with effusive +gesture:</p> + +<p>“Hello, Senator!”</p> + +<p>“You're punctual as usual, Mr. Ryder. I never knew you to +be late!”</p> + +<p>The great man chuckled, and the little men standing around, +listening breathlessly, chuckled in respectful sympathy, and they +elbowed and pushed one another in their efforts to attract Ryder's +notice, like so many cowardly hyenas not daring to approach the +lordly wolf. Senator Roberts made a remark in a low tone to Ryder, +whereupon the latter laughed. The bystanders congratulated each +other silently. The great man was pleased to be in a good humour. +And as Ryder turned with the senator to enter the Directors Room +the light from the big windows fell full on his face, and they +noticed that his eyes were of the softest blue.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page34" id="page34" title="34"></a> +<p>“No squalls to-day,” whispered one.</p> + +<p>“Wait and see,” retorted a more experienced +colleague. “Those eyes are more fickle than the +weather.”</p> + +<p>Outside the sky was darkening, and drops of rain were already +falling. A flash of lightning presaged the coming storm.</p> + +<p>Ryder passed on and into the Directors Room followed by Senator +Roberts and the other directors, the procession being brought up +by the dapper little secretary bearing the minutes.</p> + +<p>The long room with its narrow centre table covered with green +baize was filled with directors scattered in little groups and all +talking at once with excited gesture. At the sight of Ryder the +chattering stopped as if by common consent, and the only sound +audible was of the shuffling of feet and the moving of chairs as +the directors took their places around the long table.</p> + +<p>With a nod here and there Ryder took his place in the +chairman's seat and rapped for order. Then at a sign from the +chair the dapper little secretary began in a monotonous voice to +read the minutes of the previous meeting. No one listened, a few +directors yawned. Others had their eyes riveted on Ryder's face, +trying to read there if he had devised some plan to offset the +crushing blow of this adverse decision, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page35" id="page35" title="35"></a> +which meant a serious loss to them all. He, the master mind, had +served them in many a like crisis in the past. Could he do so +again? But John Ryder gave no sign. His eyes, still of the same +restful blue, were fixed on the ceiling watching a spider marching +with diabolical intent on a wretched fly that had become entangled +in its web. And as the secretary ambled monotonously on, Ryder +watched and watched until he saw the spider seize its helpless +prey and devour it. Fascinated by the spectacle, which doubtless +suggested to him some analogy to his own methods, Ryder sat +motionless, his eyes fastened on the ceiling, until the sudden +stopping of the secretary's reading aroused him and told him that +the minutes were finished. Quickly they were approved, and the +chairman proceeded as rapidly as possible with the regular +business routine. That disposed of, the meeting was ready for the +chief business of the day. Ryder then calmly proceeded to present +the facts in the case.</p> + +<p>Some years back the road had acquired as an investment some +thousands of acres of land located in the outskirts of Auburndale, +on the line of their road. The land was bought cheap, and there +had been some talk of laying part of it out as a public park. +This promise had been made at the time in good faith, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page36" id="page36" title="36"></a> +but it was no condition of the sale. If, afterwards, owing to the +rise in the value of real estate, the road found it impossible to +carry out the original idea, surely they were masters of their own +property! The people of Auburndale thought differently and, goaded +on by the local newspapers, had begun action in the courts to +restrain the road from diverting the land from its alleged +original purpose. They had succeeded in getting the injunction, +but the road had fought it tooth and nail, and finally carried it +to the Supreme Court, where Judge Rossmore, after reserving his +opinion, had finally sustained the injunction and decided against +the railroad. That was the situation, and he would now like to +hear from the members of the board.</p> + +<p>Mr. Grimsby rose. Self-confident and noisily loquacious, as +most men of his class are in simple conversation, he was plainly +intimidated at speaking before such a crowd. He did not know where +to look nor what to do with his hands, and he shuffled uneasily on +his feet, while streams of nervous perspiration ran down his fat +face, which he mopped repeatedly with a big coloured handkerchief. +At last, taking courage, he began:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Chairman, for the past ten years this road has made +bigger earnings in proportion to its carrying +<a class="pagebreak" name="page37" id="page37" title="37"></a> +capacity than any other railroad in the United States. We have +had fewer accidents, less injury to rolling stock, less litigation +and bigger dividends. The road has been well managed +and”—here he looked significantly in Ryder's +direction—“there has been a big brain behind the +manager. We owe you that credit, Mr. Ryder!”</p> + +<p>Cries of “Hear! Hear!” came from all round the +table.</p> + +<p>Ryder bowed coldly, and Mr. Grimsby continued:</p> + +<p>“But during the last year or two things have gone wrong. +There has been a lot of litigation, most of which has gone against +us, and it has cost a heap of money. It reduced the last quarterly +dividend very considerably, and the new complication—this +Auburndale suit, which also has gone against us—is going to +make a still bigger hole in our exchequer. Gentlemen, I don't want +to be a prophet of misfortune, but I'll tell you this—unless +something is done to stop this hostility in the courts you and I +stand to lose every cent we have invested in the road. This suit +which we have just lost means a number of others. What I would ask +our chairman is what has become of his former good relations with +the Supreme Court, what has become of his influence, which never +failed us. What are these rumours regarding Judge Rossmore? +<a class="pagebreak" name="page38" id="page38" title="38"></a> +He is charged in the newspapers with having accepted a present +from a road in whose favour he handed down a very valuable +decision. How is it that our road cannot reach Judge Rossmore and +make him presents?”</p> + +<p>The speaker sat down, flushed and breathless. The expression on +every face showed that the anxiety was general. The directors +glanced at Ryder, but his face was expressionless as marble. +Apparently he took not the slightest interest in this matter which +so agitated his colleagues.</p> + +<p>Another director rose. He was a better speaker than Mr. +Grimsby, but his voice had a hard, rasping quality that smote the +ears unpleasantly. He said:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Chairman, none of us can deny what Mr. Grimsby has +just put before us so vividly. We are threatened not with one, but +with a hundred such suits, unless something is done either to +placate the public or to render its attacks harmless. Rightly or +wrongly, the railroad is hated by the people, yet we are only what +railroad conditions compel us to be. With the present fierce +competition, no fine question of ethics can enter into our +dealings as a business organization. With an irritated public and +press on one side, and a hostile judiciary on the other, the +outlook certainly is far from bright. But is the judiciary +hostile? Is it not true that we have been +<a class="pagebreak" name="page39" id="page39" title="39"></a> +singularly free from litigation until recently, and that most of +the decisions were favourable to the road? Judge Rossmore is the +real danger. While he is on the bench the road is not safe. Yet +all efforts to reach him have failed and will fail. I do not take +any stock in the newspaper stories regarding Judge Rossmore. They +are preposterous. Judge Rossmore is too strong a man to be got rid +of so easily.”</p> + +<p>The speaker sat down and another rose, his arguments being +merely a reiteration of those already heard. Ryder did not listen +to what was being said. Why should he? Was he not familiar with +every possible phase of the game? Better than these men who merely +talked, he was planning how the railroad and all his other +interests could get rid of this troublesome judge.</p> + +<p>It was true. He who controlled legislatures and dictated to +Supreme Court judges had found himself powerless when each turn of +the legal machinery had brought him face to face with Judge +Rossmore. Suit after suit had been decided against him and the +interests he represented, and each time it was Judge Rossmore who +had handed down the decision. So for years these two men had +fought a silent but bitter duel in which principle on the one side +and attempted corruption on the other were the gauge of battle. +Judge +<a class="pagebreak" name="page40" id="page40" title="40"></a> +Rossmore fought with the weapons which his oath and the law +directed him to use, Ryder with the only weapons he +understood—bribery and trickery. And each time it had been +Rossmore who had emerged triumphant. Despite every manœuvre +Ryder's experience could suggest, notwithstanding every card that +could be played to undermine his credit and reputation, Judge +Rossmore stood higher in the country's confidence than when he was +first appointed.</p> + +<p>So when Ryder found he could not corrupt this honest judge with +gold, he decided to destroy him with calumny. He realized that the +sordid methods which had succeeded with other judges would never +prevail with Rossmore, so he plotted to take away from this man +the one thing he cherished most—his honour. He would ruin +him by defaming his character, and so skilfully would he +accomplish his work that the judge himself would realize the +hopelessness of resistance. +<a name="typo1" id="typo1"></a> +No scruples embarrassed Ryder in arriving at this determination. +From his point of view he was fully justified. “Business is +business. He hurts my interests; therefore I remove him.” So +he argued, and he considered it no more wrong to wreck the +happiness of this honourable man than he would to have shot a +burglar in self-defence. So having thus tranquillized his +conscience he had gone to work in his +<a class="pagebreak" name="page41" id="page41" title="41"></a> +usually thorough manner, and his success had surpassed the most +sanguine expectations.</p> + +<p>This is what he had done.</p> + +<p>Like many of our public servants whose labours are compensated +only in niggardly fashion by an inconsiderate country, Judge +Rossmore was a man of but moderate means. His income as Justice of +the Supreme Court was $12,000 a year, but for a man in his +position, having a certain appearance to keep up, it little more +than kept the wolf from the door. He lived quietly but comfortably +in New York City with his wife and his daughter Shirley, an +attractive young woman who had graduated from Vassar and had shown +a marked taste for literature. The daughter's education had cost a +good deal of money, and this, together with life insurance and +other incidentals of keeping house in New York, had about taken +all he had. Yet he had managed to save a little, and those years +when he could put by a fifth of his salary the judge considered +himself lucky. Secretly, he was proud of his comparative poverty. +At least the world could never ask him “where he got +it.”</p> + +<p>Ryder was well acquainted with Judge Rossmore's private means. +The two men had met at a dinner, and although Ryder had tried to +cultivate the acquaintance, he never received much encouragement. +Ryder's son +<a class="pagebreak" name="page42" id="page42" title="42"></a> +Jefferson, too, had met Miss Shirley Rossmore and been much +attracted to her, but the father having more ambitious plans for +his heir quickly discouraged all attentions in that direction. He +himself, however, continued to meet the judge casually, and one +evening he contrived to broach the subject of profitable +investments. The judge admitted that by careful hoarding and much +stinting he had managed to save a few thousand dollars which he +was anxious to invest in something good.</p> + +<p>Quick as the keen-eyed vulture swoops down on its prey the wily +financier seized the opportunity thus presented. And he took so +much trouble in answering the judge's inexperienced questions, and +generally made himself so agreeable, that the judge found himself +regretting that he and Ryder had, by force of circumstances, been +opposed to each other in public life so long. Ryder strongly +recommended the purchase of Alaskan Mining stock, a new and +booming enterprise which had lately become very active in the +market. Ryder said he had reasons to believe that the stock would +soon advance, and now there was an opportunity to get it +cheap.</p> + +<p>A few days after he had made the investment the judge was +surprised to receive certificates of stock for double the amount +he had paid for. At the same +<a class="pagebreak" name="page43" id="page43" title="43"></a> +time he received a letter from the secretary of the company +explaining that the additional stock was pool stock and not to be +marketed at the present time. It was in the nature of a bonus to +which he was entitled as one of the early shareholders. The letter +was full of verbiage and technical details of which the judge +understood nothing, but he thought it very liberal of the company, +and putting the stock away in his safe soon forgot all about it. +Had he been a business man he would have scented peril. He would +have realized that he had now in his possession $50,000 worth of +stock for which he had not paid a cent, and furthermore had +deposited it when a reorganization came.</p> + +<p>But the judge was sincerely grateful for Ryder's apparently +disinterested advice and wrote two letters to him, one in which he +thanked him for the trouble he had taken, and another in which he +asked him if he was sure the company was financially sound, as the +investment he contemplated making represented all his savings. He +added in the second letter that he had received stock for double +the amount of his investment, and that being a perfect child in +business transactions he had been unable to account for the extra +$50,000 worth until the secretary of the company +<a class="pagebreak" name="page44" id="page44" title="44"></a> +had written him assuring him that everything was in order. These +letters Ryder kept.</p> + +<p>From that time on the Alaskan Mining Company underwent +mysterious changes. New capitalists gained control and the name +was altered to the Great Northwestern Mining Company. Then it +became involved in litigation, and one suit, the outcome of which +meant millions to the company, was carried to the Supreme Court, +where Judge Rossmore was sitting. The judge had by this time +forgotten all about the company in which he owned stock. He did +not even recall its name. He only knew vaguely that it was a mine +and that it was situated in Alaska. Could he dream that the Great +Northwestern Mining Company and the company to which he had +entrusted his few thousands were one and the same? In deciding on +the merits of the case presented to him right seemed to him to be +plainly with the Northwestern, and he rendered a decision to that +effect. It was an important decision, involving a large sum, and +for a day or two it was talked about. But as it was the opinion of +the most learned and honest judge on the bench no one dreamed of +questioning it.</p> + +<p>But very soon ugly paragraphs began to appear in the +newspapers. One paper asked if it were true that Judge Rossmore +owned stock in the Great Northwestern +<a class="pagebreak" name="page45" id="page45" title="45"></a> +Mining Company which had recently benefited so signally by his +decision. Interviewed by a reporter, Judge Rossmore indignantly +denied being interested in any way in the company. Thereupon the +same paper returned to the attack, stating that the judge must +surely be mistaken as the records showed a sale of stock to him at +the time the company was known as the Alaskan Mining Company. When +he read this the judge was overwhelmed. It was true then! They had +not slandered him. It was he who had lied, but how +innocently—how innocently!</p> + +<p>His daughter Shirley, who was his greatest friend and comfort, +was then in Europe. She had gone to the Continent to rest, after +working for months on a novel which she had just published. His +wife, entirely without experience in business matters and somewhat +of an invalid, was helpless to advise him. But to his old and +tried friend, ex-Judge Stott, Judge Rossmore explained the facts +as they were. Stott shook his head. “It's a +conspiracy!” he cried. “And John B. Ryder is behind +it.” Rossmore refused to believe that any man could so +deliberately try to encompass another's destruction, but when more +newspaper stories came out he began to realize that Stott was +right and that his enemies had indeed dealt him a deadly blow. One +newspaper boldly stated that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page46" id="page46" title="46"></a> +Judge Rossmore was down on the mining company's books for $50,000 +more stock than he had paid for, and it went on to ask if this +were payment for the favourable decision just rendered. Rossmore, +helpless, child-like as he was in business matters, now fully +realized the seriousness of his position. “My God! My +God!” he cried, as he bowed his head down on his desk. And +for a whole day he remained closeted in his library, no one +venturing near him.</p> + +<p>As John Ryder sat there sphinx-like at the head of the +directors' table he reviewed all this in his mind. His own part +in the work was now done and well done, and he had come to this +meeting to-day to tell them of his triumph.</p> + +<p>The speaker, to whom he had paid such scant attention, resumed +his seat, and there followed a pause and an intense silence which +was broken only by the pattering of the rain against the big +windows. The directors turned expectantly to Ryder, waiting for +him to speak. What could the Colossus do now to save the +situation? Cries of “the Chair! the Chair!” arose on +every side. Senator Roberts leaned over to Ryder and whispered +something in his ear.</p> + +<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a> +<blockquote class="illustration"><a href="images/illus1.jpg"> +<img src="images/illus1.png" width="331" height="450" +alt="[Pencil illustration of the meeting]" /></a></blockquote> +<blockquote class="central">He had come to this meeting to-day to tell them +of his triumph.—<a href="#page46"><i>Page 46.</i></a></blockquote> + +<p>With an acquiescent gesture, John Ryder tapped the table with +his gavel and rose to address his fellow directors. Instantly the +room was silent again as +<a class="pagebreak" name="page47" id="page47" title="47"></a> +the tomb. One might have heard a pin drop, so intense was the +attention. All eyes were fixed on the chairman. The air itself +seemed charged with electricity, that needed but a spark to set it +ablaze.</p> + +<p>Speaking deliberately and dispassionately, the Master +Dissembler began.</p> + +<p>They had all listened carefully, he said, to what had been +stated by previous speakers. The situation no doubt was very +critical, but they had weathered worse storms and he had every +reason to hope they would outlive this storm. It was true that +public opinion was greatly incensed against the railroads and, +indeed, against all organized capital, and was seeking to injure +them through the courts. For a time this agitation would hurt +business and lessen the dividends, for it meant not only smaller +annual earnings but that a lot of money must be spent in +Washington.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the listeners, who were hanging on every word, +involuntarily turned in the direction of Senator Roberts, but the +latter, at that moment busily engaged in rummaging among a lot of +papers, seemed to have missed this significant allusion to the +road's expenses in the District of Columbia. Ryder continued:</p> + +<p>In his experience such waves of reform were periodical and soon +wear themselves out, when things go +<a class="pagebreak" name="page48" id="page48" title="48"></a> +on just as they did before. Much of the agitation, doubtless, was +a strike for graft. They would have to go down in their pockets, +he supposed, and then these yellow newspapers and these yellow +magazines that were barking at their heels would let them go. But +in regard to the particular case now at issue—this +Auburndale decision—there had been no way of preventing it. +Influence had been used, but to no effect. The thing to do now +was to prevent any such disasters in future by removing the author +of them.</p> + +<p>The directors bent eagerly forward. Had Ryder really got some +plan up his sleeve after all? The faces around the table looked +brighter, and the directors cleared their throats and settled +themselves down in their chairs as audiences do in the theatre +when the drama is reaching its climax.</p> + +<p>The board, continued Ryder with icy calmness, had perhaps +heard, and also seen in the newspapers, the stories regarding +Judge Rossmore and his alleged connection with the Great +Northwestern Company. Perhaps they had not believed these +stories. It was only natural. He had not believed them himself. +But he had taken the trouble to inquire into the matter very +carefully, and he regretted to say that the stories were true. In +fact, they were no longer denied by Judge Rossmore himself.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page49" id="page49" title="49"></a> +<p>The directors looked at each other in amazement. Gasps of +astonishment, incredulity, satisfaction were heard all over the +room. The rumours were true, then? Was it possible? +Incredible!</p> + +<p>Investigation, Ryder went on, had shown that Judge Rossmore was +not only interested in the company in whose favour, as Judge of +the Supreme Court, he had rendered an important decision, but what +was worse, he had accepted from that company a valuable +gift—that is, $50,000 worth of stock—for which he had +given absolutely nothing in return unless, as some claimed, the +weight of his influence on the bench. These facts were very ugly +and so unanswerable that Judge Rossmore did not attempt to answer +them, and the important news which he, the chairman, had to +announce to his fellow-directors that afternoon, was that Judge +Rossmore's conduct would be made the subject of an inquiry by +Congress.</p> + +<p>This was the spark that was needed to ignite the electrically +charged air. A wild cry of triumph went up from this band of +jackals only too willing to fatten their bellies at the cost of +another man's ruin, and one director, in his enthusiasm, rose +excitedly from his chair and demanded a vote of thanks for John +Ryder.</p> + +<p>Ryder coldly opposed the motion. No thanks were due to him, he +said deprecatingly, nor did he +<a class="pagebreak" name="page50" id="page50" title="50"></a> +think the occasion called for congratulations of any kind. It was +surely a sad spectacle to see this honoured judge, this devoted +father, this blameless citizen threatened with ruin and disgrace +on account of one false step. Let them rather sympathize with him +and his family in their misfortune. He had little more to tell. +The Congressional inquiry would take place immediately, and in all +probability a demand would be made upon the Senate for Judge +Rossmore's impeachment. It was, he added, almost unnecessary for +him to remind the Board that, in the event of impeachment, the +adverse decision in the Auburndale case would be annulled and the +road would be entitled to a new trial.</p> + +<p>Ryder sat down, and pandemonium broke loose, the delighted +directors tumbling over each other in their eagerness to shake +hands with the man who had saved them. Ryder had given no hint +that he had been a factor in the working up of this case against +their common enemy, in fact he had appeared to sympathise with +him, but the directors knew well that he and he alone had been the +master mind which had brought about the happy result.</p> + +<p>On a motion to adjourn, the meeting broke up, and everyone +began to troop towards the elevators. Outside the rain was now +coming down in torrents and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page51" id="page51" title="51"></a> +the lights that everywhere dotted the great city only paled when +every few moments a vivid flash of lightning rent the enveloping +gloom.</p> + +<p>Ryder and Senator Roberts went down in the elevator together. +When they reached the street the senator inquired in a low +tone:</p> + +<p>“Do you think they really believed Rossmore was +influenced in his decision?”</p> + +<p>Ryder glanced from the lowering clouds overhead to his electric +brougham which awaited him at the curb and replied +indifferently:</p> + +<p>“Not they. They don't care. All they want to believe is +that he is to be impeached. The man was dangerous and had to be +removed—no matter by what means. He is our enemy—my +enemy—and I never give quarter to my enemies!”</p> + +<p>As he spoke his prognathous jaw snapped to with a click-like +sound, and in his eyes now coal-black were glints of fire. At the +same instant there was a blinding flash, accompanied by a terrific +crash, and the splinters of the flag-pole on the building +opposite, which had been struck by a bolt, fell at their feet.</p> + +<p>“A good or a bad omen?” asked the senator with a +nervous laugh. He was secretly afraid of lightning; but was +ashamed to admit it.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page52" id="page52" title="52"></a> +<p>“A bad omen for Judge Rossmore!” rejoined Ryder +coolly, as he slammed to the door of the cab, and the two men +drove rapidly off in the direction of Fifth Avenue.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page53" id="page53" title="53"></a> +<a name="chapter3" id="chapter3"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p>Of all the spots on this fair, broad earth where the jaded +globe wanderer, surfeited with hackneyed sight-seeing, may sit in +perfect peace and watch the world go by, there is none more +fascinating nor one presenting a more brilliant panorama of +cosmopolitan life than that famous corner on the Paris boulevards, +formed by the angle of the Boulevard des Capucines and the Place +de l'Opéra. Here, on the “terrace” of the Café de la +Paix, with its white and gold façade and long French windows, and +its innumerable little marble-topped tables and rattan chairs, one +may sit for hours at the trifling expense of a few <i>sous</i>, +undisturbed even by the tip-seeking <i>garçon</i>, and, if one +happens to be a student of human nature, find keen enjoyment in +observing the world-types, representing every race and nationality +under the sun, that pass and re-pass in a steady, never ceasing, +exhaustless stream. The crowd surges to and fro, past the little +tables, occasionally toppling over a chair or two in the crush, +moving up or down the great boulevards, one procession going to +the right, in the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page54" id="page54" title="54"></a> +direction of the Church of the Madeleine, the other to the left +heading toward the historic Bastille, both really going nowhere in +particular, but ambling gently and good humouredly along enjoying +the sights—and life!</p> + +<p>Paris, queen of cities! Light-hearted, joyous, radiant +Paris—the playground of the nations, the Mecca of the +pleasure-seekers, the city beautiful! Paris—the siren, +frankly immoral, always seductive, ever caressing! City of a +thousand political convulsions, city of a million crimes—her +streets have run with human blood, horrors unspeakable have +stained her history, civil strife has scarred her monuments, the +German conqueror insolently has bivouaced within her walls. Yet, +like a virgin undefiled, she shows no sign of storm and stress, +she offers her dimpled cheek to the rising sun, and when fall the +shadows of night and a billion electric bulbs flash in the siren's +crown, her resplendent, matchless beauty dazzles the world!</p> + +<p>As the supreme reward of virtue, the good American is promised +a visit to Paris when he dies. Those, however, of our sagacious +fellow countrymen who can afford to make the trip, usually manage +to see Lutetia before crossing the river Styx. Most Americans like +Paris—some like it so well that they have made it their +permanent home—although it must be added that in +<a class="pagebreak" name="page55" id="page55" title="55"></a> +their admiration they rarely include the Frenchman. For that +matter, we are not as a nation particularly fond of any foreigner, +largely because we do not understand him, while the foreigner for +his part is quite willing to return the compliment. He gives the +Yankee credit for commercial smartness, which has built up +America's great material prosperity; but he has the utmost +contempt for our acquaintance with art, and no profound respect +for us as scientists.</p> + +<p>Is it not indeed fortunate that every nation finds itself +superior to its neighbour? If this were not so each would be +jealous of the other, and would cry with envy like a spoiled child +who cannot have the moon to play with. Happily, therefore, for the +harmony of the world, each nation cordially detests the other and +the much exploited “brotherhood of man” is only a +figure of speech. The Englishman, confident that he is the last +word of creation, despises the Frenchman, who, in turn, laughs at +the German, who shows open contempt for the Italian, while the +American, conscious of his superiority to the whole family of +nations, secretly pities them all.</p> + +<p>The most serious fault which the American—whose one god +is Mammon and chief characteristic hustle—has to find with +his French brother is that he enjoys life too much, is never in a +hurry and, what to the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page56" id="page56" title="56"></a> +Yankee mind is hardly respectable, has a habit of playing dominoes +during business hours. The Frenchman retorts that his American +brother, clever person though he be, has one or two things still +to learn. He has, he declares, no philosophy of life. It is true +that he has learned the trick of making money, but in the things +which go to satisfy the soul he is still strangely lacking. He +thinks he is enjoying life, when really he is ignorant of what +life is. He admits it is not the American's fault, for he has +never been taught how to enjoy life. One must be educated to that +as everything else. All the American is taught is to be in a +perpetual hurry and to make money no matter how. In this mad daily +race for wealth, he bolts his food, not stopping to masticate it +properly, and consequently suffers all his life from dyspepsia. So +he rushes from the cradle to the grave, and what's the good, since +he must one day die like all the rest?</p> + +<p>And what, asks the foreigner, has the American hustler +accomplished that his slower-going Continental brother has not +done as well? Are finer cities to be found in America than in +Europe, do Americans paint more beautiful pictures, or write more +learned or more entertaining books, has America made greater +progress in science? Is it not a fact that the greatest inventors +and scientists of our time—Marconi, who gave to the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page57" id="page57" title="57"></a> +world wireless telegraphy, Professor Curie, who discovered radium, +Pasteur, who found a cure for rabies, Santos-Dumont, who has +almost succeeded in navigating the air, Professor Röntgen who +discovered the X-ray—are not all these immortals Europeans? +And those two greatest mechanical inventions of our day, the +automobile and the submarine boat, were they not first introduced +and perfected in France before we in America woke up to appreciate +their use? Is it, therefore, not possible to take life easily and +still achieve?</p> + +<p>The logic of these arguments, set forth in <i>Le Soir</i> in an +article on the New World, appealed strongly to Jefferson Ryder as +he sat in front of the Café de la Paix, sipping a sugared +Vermouth. It was five o'clock, the magic hour of the +<i>apéritif</i>, when the glutton taxes his wits to deceive his +stomach and work up an appetite for renewed gorging. The little +tables were all occupied with the usual before-dinner crowd. There +were a good many foreigners, mostly English and Americans and a +few Frenchmen, obviously from the provinces, with only a +sprinkling of real Parisians.</p> + +<p>Jefferson's acquaintance with the French language was none too +profound, and he had to guess at half the words in the article, +but he understood enough to follow the writer's arguments. Yes, it +was quite true, he thought, the American idea of life was all +wrong. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page58" id="page58" title="58"></a> +What was the sense of slaving all one's life, piling up a mass of +money one cannot possibly spend, when there is only one life to +live? How much saner the man who is content with enough and enjoys +life while he is able to. These Frenchmen, and indeed all the +Continental nations, had solved the problem. The gaiety of their +cities, and this exuberant joy of life they communicated to all +about them, were sufficient proofs of it.</p> + +<p>Fascinated by the gay scene around him Jefferson laid the +newspaper aside. To the young American, fresh from prosaic +money-mad New York, the City of Pleasure presented indeed a novel +and beautiful spectacle. How different, he mused, from his own +city with its one fashionable thoroughfare—Fifth +Avenue—monotonously lined for miles with hideous brownstone +residences, and showing little real animation except during the +Saturday afternoon parade when the activities of the smart set, +male and female, centred chiefly in such exciting diversions as +going to Huyler's for soda, taking tea at the Waldorf, and trying +to outdo each other in dress and show. New York certainly was a +dull place with all its boasted cosmopolitanism. There was no +denying that. Destitute of any natural beauty, handicapped by its +cramped geographical position between two rivers, made unsightly +by gigantic +<a class="pagebreak" name="page59" id="page59" title="59"></a> +sky-scrapers and that noisy monstrosity the Elevated Railroad, +having no intellectual interests, no art interests, no interest in +anything not immediately connected with dollars, it was a city to +dwell in and make money in, but hardly a city to <i>live</i> in. +The millionaires were building white-marble palaces, taxing the +ingenuity and the originality of the native architects, and thus +to some extent relieving the general ugliness and drab +commonplaceness, while the merchant princes had begun to invade +the lower end of the avenue with handsome shops. But in spite of +all this, in spite of its pretty girls—and Jefferson +insisted that in this one important particular New York had no +peer—in spite of its comfortable theatres and its wicked +Tenderloin, and its Rialto made so brilliant at night by thousands +of elaborate electric signs, New York still had the subdued air of +a provincial town, compared with the exuberant gaiety, the +multiple attractions, the beauties, natural and artificial, of +cosmopolitan Paris.</p> + +<p>The boulevards were crowded, as usual at that hour, and the +crush of both vehicles and pedestrians was so great as to permit +of only a snail-like progress. The clumsy three-horse +omnibuses—Madeleine-Bastille—crowded inside and out +with passengers and with their neatly uniformed drivers and +conductors, so different +<a class="pagebreak" name="page60" id="page60" title="60"></a> +in appearance and manner from our own slovenly street-car rowdies, +were endeavouring to breast a perfect sea of <i>fiacres</i> which, +like a swarm of mosquitoes, appeared to be trying to go in every +direction at once, their drivers vociferating torrents of +vituperous abuse on every man, woman or beast unfortunate enough +to get in their way. As a dispenser of unspeakable profanity, the +Paris <i>cocher</i> has no equal. He is unique, no one can +approach him. He also enjoys the reputation of being the worst +driver in the world. If there is any possible way in which he can +run down a pedestrian or crash into another vehicle he will do it, +probably for the only reason that it gives him another opportunity +to display his choice stock of picturesque expletives.</p> + +<p>But it was a lively, good-natured crowd and the fashionably +gowned women and the well-dressed men, the fakirs hoarsely crying +their catch-penny devices, the noble boulevards lined as far as +the eye could reach with trees in full foliage, the magnificent +Opera House with its gilded dome glistening in the warm sunshine +of a June afternoon, the broad avenue directly opposite, leading +in a splendid straight line to the famous Palais Royal, the almost +dazzling whiteness of the houses and monuments, the remarkable +cleanliness and excellent condition of the sidewalks and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page61" id="page61" title="61"></a> +streets, the gaiety and richness of the shops and restaurants, the +picturesque kiosks where they sold newspapers and +flowers—all this made up a picture so utterly unlike +anything he was familiar with at home that Jefferson sat +spellbound, delighted.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was true, he thought, the foreigner had indeed learned +the secret of enjoying life. There was assuredly something else in +the world beyond mere money-getting. His father was a slave to it, +but he would never be. He was resolved on that. Yet, with all his +ideas of emancipation and progress, Jefferson was a thoroughly +practical young man. He fully understood the value of money, and +the possession of it was as sweet to him as to other men. Only he +would never soil his soul in acquiring it dishonourably. He was +convinced that society as at present organized was all wrong and +that the feudalism of the middle ages had simply given place to a +worse form of slavery—capitalistic driven labour—which +had resulted in the actual iniquitous conditions, the enriching of +the rich and the impoverishment of the poor. He was familiar with +the socialistic doctrines of the day and had taken a keen interest +in this momentous question, this dream of a regenerated mankind. +He had read Karl Marx and other socialistic writers, and while his +essentially practical mind could hardly approve all their +programme +<a class="pagebreak" name="page62" id="page62" title="62"></a> +for reorganizing the State, some of which seemed to him utopian, +extravagant and even undesirable, he realised that the socialistic +movement was growing rapidly all over the world and the day was +not far distant when in America, as to-day in Germany and France, +it would be a formidable factor to reckon with.</p> + +<p>But until the socialistic millennium arrived and society was +reorganized, money, he admitted, would remain the lever of the +world, the great stimulus to effort. Money supplied not only the +necessities of life but also its luxuries, everything the material +desire craved for, and so long as money had this magic purchasing +power, so long would men lie and cheat and rob and kill for its +possession. Was life worth living without money? Could one travel +and enjoy the glorious spectacles Nature affords—the rolling +ocean, the majestic mountains, the beautiful lakes, the noble +rivers—without money? Could the book-lover buy books, the +art-lover purchase pictures? Could one have fine houses to live +in, or all sorts of modern conveniences to add to one's comfort, +without money? The philosophers declared contentment to be +happiness, arguing that the hod-carrier was likely to be happier +in his hut than the millionaire in his palace; but was not that +mere animal contentment, the happiness +<a class="pagebreak" name="page63" id="page63" title="63"></a> +which knows no higher state, the ignorance of one whose eyes have +never been raised to the heights?</p> + +<p>No, Jefferson was no fool. He loved money for what pleasure, +intellectual or physical, it could give him, but he would never +allow money to dominate his life as his father had done. His +father, he knew well, was not a happy man, neither happy himself +nor respected by the world. He had toiled all his life to make his +vast fortune and now he toiled to take care of it. The galley +slave led a life of luxurious ease compared with John Burkett +Ryder. Baited by the yellow newspapers and magazines, investigated +by State committees, dogged by process-servers, haunted by +beggars, harassed by blackmailers, threatened by kidnappers, +frustrated in his attempts to bestow charity by the cry +“tainted money”—certainly the lot of the world's +richest man was far from being an enviable one.</p> + +<p>That is why Jefferson had resolved to strike out for himself. +He had warded off the golden yoke which his father proposed to put +on his shoulders, declining the lucrative position made for him in +the Empire Trading Company, and he had gone so far as to refuse +also the private income his father offered to settle on him. He +would earn his own living. A man who has his bread buttered for +him seldom accomplishes anything +<a class="pagebreak" name="page64" id="page64" title="64"></a> +he had said, and while his father had appeared to be angry at this +open opposition to his will, he was secretly pleased at his son's +grit. Jefferson was thoroughly in earnest. If needs be, he would +forego the great fortune that awaited him rather than be forced +into questionable business methods against which his whole manhood +revolted.</p> + +<p>Jefferson Ryder felt strongly about these matters, and gave +them more thought than would be expected of most young men with +his opportunities. In fact, he was unusually serious for his age. +He was not yet thirty, but he had done a great deal of reading, +and he took a keen interest in all the political and sociological +questions of the hour. In personal appearance, he was the type of +man that both men and women like—tall and athletic looking, +with smooth face and clean-cut features. He had the steel-blue +eyes and the fighting jaw of his father, and when he smiled he +displayed two even rows of very white teeth. He was popular with +men, being manly, frank and cordial in his relations with them, +and women admired him greatly, although they were somewhat +intimidated by his grave and serious manner. The truth was that he +was rather diffident with women, largely owing to lack of +experience with them.</p> + +<p>He had never felt the slightest inclination for business. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page65" id="page65" title="65"></a> +He had the artistic temperament strongly developed, and his +personal tastes had little in common with Wall Street and its +feverish stock manipulating. When he was younger, he had dreamed +of a literary or art career. At one time he had even thought of +going on the stage. But it was to art that he turned finally. From +an early age he had shown considerable skill as a draughtsman, and +later a two years' course at the Academy of Design convinced him +that this was his true vocation. He had begun by illustrating for +the book publishers and for the magazines, meeting at first with +the usual rebuffs and disappointments, but, refusing to be +discouraged, he had kept on and soon the tide turned. His drawings +began to be accepted. They appeared first in one magazine, then +in another, until one day, to his great joy, he received an order +from an important firm of publishers for six wash-drawings to be +used in illustrating a famous novel. This was the beginning of +his real success. His illustrations were talked about almost as +much as the book, and from that time on everything was easy. He +was in great demand by the publishers, and very soon the young +artist, who had begun his career of independence on nothing a year +so to speak, found himself in a handsomely appointed studio in +Bryant Park, with more orders coming in than he could possibly +fill, and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page66" id="page66" title="66"></a> +enjoying an income of little less than $5,000 a year. The money +was all the sweeter to Jefferson in that he felt he had himself +earned every cent of it. This summer he was giving himself a +well-deserved vacation, and he had come to Europe partly to see +Paris and the other art centres about which his fellow students at +the Academy raved, but principally—although this he did not +acknowledge even to himself—to meet in Paris a young woman +in whom he was more than ordinarily interested—Shirley +Rossmore, daughter of Judge Rossmore, of the United States Supreme +Court, who had come abroad to recuperate after the labours on her +new novel, “The American Octopus,” a book which was +then the talk of two hemispheres.</p> + +<p>Jefferson had read half a dozen reviews of it in as many +American papers that afternoon at the <i>New York Herald's</i> +reading room in the Avenue de l'Opéra, and he chuckled with glee +as he thought how accurately this young woman had described his +father. The book had been published under the pseudonym +“Shirley Green,” and he alone had been admitted into +the secret of authorship. The critics all conceded that it was the +book of the year, and that it portrayed with a pitiless pen the +personality of the biggest figure in the commercial life of +America. “Although,” wrote one reviewer, “the +leading character in the book is given another +<a class="pagebreak" name="page67" id="page67" title="67"></a> +name, there can be no doubt that the author intended to give to +the world a vivid pen portrait of John Burkett Ryder. She has +succeeded in presenting a remarkable character-study of the most +remarkable man of his time.”</p> + +<p>He was particularly pleased with the reviews, not only for Miss +Rossmore's sake, but also because his own vanity was gratified. +Had he not collaborated on the book to the extent of acquainting +the author with details of his father's life, and his +characteristics, which no outsider could possibly have learned? +There had been no disloyalty to his father in doing this. +Jefferson admired his father's smartness, if he could not approve +his methods. He did not consider the book an attack on his father, +but rather a powerfully written pen picture of an extraordinary +man.</p> + +<p>Jefferson had met Shirley Rossmore two years before at a +meeting of the Schiller Society, a pseudo-literary organization +gotten up by a lot of old fogies for no useful purpose, and at +whose monthly meetings the poet who gave the society its name was +probably the last person to be discussed. He had gone out of +curiosity, anxious to take in all the freak shows New York had to +offer, and he had been introduced to a tall girl with a pale, +thoughtful face and firm mouth. She was a writer, Miss Rossmore +told him, and this was +<a class="pagebreak" name="page68" id="page68" title="68"></a> +her first visit also to the evening receptions of the Schiller +Society. Half apologetically she added that it was likely to be +her last, for, frankly, she was bored to death. But she explained +that she had to go to these affairs, as she found them useful in +gathering material for literary use. She studied types and +eccentric characters, and this seemed to her a capital hunting +ground. Jefferson, who, as a rule, was timid with girls and +avoided them, found this girl quite unlike the others he had +known. Her quiet, forceful demeanour appealed to him strongly, and +he lingered with her, chatting about his work, which had so many +interests in common with her own, until refreshments were served, +when the affair broke up. This first meeting had been followed by +a call at the Rossmore residence, and the acquaintance had kept up +until Jefferson, for the first time since he came to manhood, was +surprised and somewhat alarmed at finding himself strangely and +unduly interested in a person of the opposite sex.</p> + +<p>The young artist's courteous manner, his serious outlook on +life, his high moral principles, so rarely met with nowadays in +young men of his age and class, could hardly fail to appeal to +Shirley, whose ideals of men had been somewhat rudely shattered by +those she had hitherto met. Above all, she demanded in a man the +refinement of the true gentleman, together with +<a class="pagebreak" name="page69" id="page69" title="69"></a> +strength of character and personal courage. That Jefferson Ryder +came up to this standard she was soon convinced. He was certainly +a gentleman: his views on a hundred topics of the hour expressed +in numerous conversations assured her as to his principles, while +a glance at his powerful physique left no doubt possible as to his +courage. She rightly guessed that this was no <i>poseur</i> trying +to make an impression and gain her confidence. There was an +unmistakable ring of sincerity in all his words, and his struggle +at home with his father, and his subsequent brave and successful +fight for his own independence and self-respect, more than +substantiated all her theories. And the more Shirley let her mind +dwell on Jefferson Ryder and his blue eyes and serious manner, the +more conscious she became that the artist was encroaching more +upon her thoughts and time than was good either for her work or +for herself.</p> + +<p>So their casual acquaintance grew into a real friendship and +comradeship. Further than that Shirley promised herself it should +never go. Not that Jefferson had given her the slightest hint that +he entertained the idea of making her his wife one day, only she +was sophisticated enough to know the direction in which run the +minds of men who are abnormally interested in one girl, and long +before this Shirley had made up +<a class="pagebreak" name="page70" id="page70" title="70"></a> +her mind that she would never marry. Firstly, she was devoted to +her father and could not bear the thought of ever leaving him; +secondly, she was fascinated by her literary work and she was +practical enough to know that matrimony, with its visions of +slippers and cradles, would be fatal to any ambition of that kind. +She liked Jefferson immensely—more, perhaps, than any man +she had yet met—and she did not think any the less of him +because of her resolve not to get entangled in the meshes of +Cupid. In any case he had not asked her to marry him—perhaps +the idea was far from his thoughts. Meantime, she could enjoy his +friendship freely without fear of embarrassing entanglements.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, she first conceived the idea of portraying in +the guise of fiction the personality of John Burkett Ryder, the +Colossus of finance whose vast and ever-increasing fortune was +fast becoming a public nuisance, she naturally turned to Jefferson +for assistance. She wanted to write a book that would be talked +about, and which at the same time would open the eyes of the +public to this growing peril in their midst—this monster of +insensate and unscrupulous greed who, by sheer weight of his +ill-gotten gold, was corrupting legislators and judges and trying +to enslave the nation. The book, she argued, would perform a +<a class="pagebreak" name="page71" id="page71" title="71"></a> +public service in awakening all to the common danger. Jefferson +fully entered into her views and had furnished her with the +information regarding his father that she deemed of value. The +book had proven a success beyond their most sanguine expectations, +and Shirley had come to Europe for a rest after the many weary +months of work that it took to write it.</p> + +<p>The acquaintance of his son with the daughter of Judge Rossmore +had not escaped the eagle eye of Ryder, Sr., and much to the +financier's annoyance, and even consternation, he had ascertained +that Jefferson was a frequent caller at the Rossmore home. He +immediately jumped to the conclusion that this could mean only one +thing, and fearing what he termed “the consequences of the +insanity of immature minds,” he had summoned Jefferson +peremptorily to his presence. He told his son that all idea of +marriage in that quarter was out of the question for two reasons: +One was that Judge Rossmore was his most bitter enemy, the other +was that he had hoped to see his son, his destined successor, +marry a woman of whom he, Ryder, Sr., could approve. He knew of +such a woman, one who would make a far more desirable mate than +Miss Rossmore. He alluded, of course, to Kate Roberts, the pretty +daughter of his old friend, the Senator. The family interests +would benefit by this alliance, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page72" id="page72" title="72"></a> +which was desirable from every point of view. Jefferson had +listened respectfully until his father had finished and then +grimly remarked that only one point of view had been +overlooked—his own. He did not care for Miss Roberts; he did +not think she really cared for him. The marriage was out of the +question. Whereupon Ryder, Sr., had fumed and raged, declaring +that Jefferson was opposing his will as he always did, and ending +with the threat that if his son married Shirley Rossmore without +his consent he would disinherit him.</p> + +<p>Jefferson was cogitating on these incidents of the last few +months when suddenly a feminine voice which he quickly recognised +called out in English:</p> + +<p>“Hello! Mr. Ryder.”</p> + +<p>He looked up and saw two ladies, one young, the other middle +aged, smiling at him from an open <i>fiacre</i> which had drawn up +to the curb. Jefferson jumped from his seat, upsetting his chair +and startling two nervous Frenchmen in his hurry, and hastened +out, hat in hand.</p> + +<p>“Why, Miss Rossmore, what are you doing out +driving?” he asked. “You know you and Mrs. Blake +promised to dine with me to-night. I was coming round to the hotel +in a few moments.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake was a younger sister of Shirley's mother. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page73" id="page73" title="73"></a> +Her husband had died a few years previously, leaving her a small +income, and when she had heard of her niece's contemplated trip to +Europe she had decided to come to Paris to meet her and +incidentally to chaperone her. The two women were stopping at the +Grand Hotel close by, while Jefferson had found accommodations at +the Athénée.</p> + +<p>Shirley explained. Her aunt wanted to go to the dressmaker's, +and she herself was most anxious to go to the Luxembourg Gardens +to hear the music. Would he take her? Then they could meet Mrs. +Blake at the hotel at seven o'clock and all go to dinner. Was he +willing?</p> + +<p>Was he? Jefferson's face fairly glowed. He ran back to his +table on the <i>terrasse</i> to settle for his Vermouth, +astonished the waiter by not stopping to notice the short change +he gave him, and rushed back to the carriage.</p> + +<p>A dirty little Italian girl, shrewd enough to note the young +man's attention to the younger of the American women, wheedled up +to the carriage and thrust a bunch of flowers in Jefferson's +face.</p> + +<p>“<i>Achetez des fleurs, monsieur, pour la jolie +dame?</i>”</p> + +<p>Down went Jefferson's hand in his pocket and, filling the +child's hand with small silver, he flung the flowers in the +carriage. Then he turned inquiringly +<a class="pagebreak" name="page74" id="page74" title="74"></a> +to Shirley for instructions so he could direct the <i>cocher</i>. +Mrs. Blake said she would get out here. Her dressmaker was close +by, in the Rue Auber, and she would walk back to the hotel to meet +them at seven o'clock. Jefferson assisted her to alight and +escorted her as far as the <i>porte-cochère</i> of the modiste's, +a couple of doors away. When he returned to the carriage, Shirley +had already told the coachman where to go. He got in and the +<i>fiacre</i> started.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Shirley, “tell me what you have +been doing with yourself all day.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson was busily arranging the faded carriage rug about +Shirley, spending more time in the task perhaps than was +absolutely necessary, and she had to repeat the question.</p> + +<p>“Doing?” he echoed with a smile, “I've been +doing two things—waiting impatiently for seven o'clock and +incidentally reading the notices of your book.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page75" id="page75" title="75"></a> +<a name="chapter4" id="chapter4"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<a name="insquote2" id="insquote2"></a> +<p>“Tell me, what do the papers say?”</p> + +<p>Settling herself comfortably back in the carriage, Shirley +questioned Jefferson with eagerness, even anxiety. She had been +impatiently awaiting the arrival of the newspapers from +“home,” for so much depended on this first effort. She +knew her book had been praised in some quarters, and her +publishers had written her that the sales were bigger every day, +but she was curious to learn how it had been received by the +reviewers.</p> + +<p>In truth, it had been no slight achievement for a young writer +of her inexperience, a mere tyro in literature, to attract so much +attention with her first book. The success almost threatened to +turn her head, she had told her aunt laughingly, although she was +sure it could never do that. She fully realized that it was the +subject rather than the skill of the narrator that counted in the +book's success, also the fact that it had come out at a timely +moment, when the whole world was talking of the Money Peril. Had +not President Roosevelt, in a recent sensational speech, declared +that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page76" id="page76" title="76"></a> +it might be necessary for the State to curb the colossal fortunes +of America, and was not her hero, John Burkett Ryder, the richest +of them all? Any way they looked at it, the success of the book +was most gratifying.</p> + +<p>While she was an attractive, aristocratic-looking girl, Shirley +Rossmore had no serious claims to academic beauty. Her features +were irregular, and the firm and rather thin mouth lines disturbed +the harmony indispensable to plastic beauty. Yet there was in her +face something far more appealing—soul and character. The +face of the merely beautiful woman expresses nothing, promises +nothing. It presents absolutely no key to the soul within, and +often there is no soul within to have a key to. Perfect in its +outlines and coloring, it is a delight to gaze upon, just as is a +flawless piece of sculpture, yet the delight is only fleeting. One +soon grows satiated, no matter how beautiful the face may be, +because it is always the same, expressionless and soulless. +“Beauty is only skin deep,” said the philosopher, and +no truer dictum was ever uttered. The merely beautiful woman, who +possesses only beauty and nothing else, is kept so busy thinking +of her looks, and is so anxious to observe the impression her +beauty makes on others, that she has neither the time nor the +inclination for matters +<a class="pagebreak" name="page77" id="page77" title="77"></a> +of greater importance. Sensible men, as a rule, do not lose their +hearts to women whose only assets are their good looks. They enjoy +a flirtation with them, but seldom care to make them their wives. +The marrying man is shrewd enough to realize that domestic virtues +will be more useful in his household economy than all the academic +beauty ever chiselled out of block marble.</p> + +<p>Shirley was not beautiful, but hers was a face that never +failed to attract attention. It was a thoughtful and interesting +face, with an intellectual brow and large, expressive eyes, the +face of a woman who had both brain power and ideals, and yet who, +at the same time, was in perfect sympathy with the world. She was +fair in complexion, and her fine brown eyes, alternately +reflective and alert, were shaded by long dark lashes. Her +eyebrows were delicately arched, and she had a good nose. She wore +her hair well off the forehead, which was broader than in the +average woman, suggesting good mentality. Her mouth, however, was +her strongest feature. It was well shaped, but there were firm +lines about it that suggested unusual will power. Yet it smiled +readily, and when it did there was an agreeable vision of strong, +healthy-looking teeth of dazzling whiteness. She was a little over +medium height and slender in figure, and carried +<a class="pagebreak" name="page78" id="page78" title="78"></a> +herself with that unmistakable air of well-bred independence that +bespeaks birth and culture. She dressed stylishly, and while her +gowns were of rich material, and of a cut suggesting expensive +modistes, she was always so quietly attired and in such perfect +taste, that after leaving her one could never recall what she had +on.</p> + +<p>At the special request of Shirley, who wanted to get a glimpse +of the Latin Quarter, the driver took a course down the Avenue de +l'Opéra, that magnificent thoroughfare which starts at the Opéra +and ends at the Théâtre Français, and which, like many others that +go to the beautifying of the capital, the Parisians owe to the +much-despised Napoleon III. The cab, Jefferson told her, would +skirt the Palais Royal and follow the Rue de Rivoli until it came +to the Châtelet, when it would cross the Seine and drive up the +Boulevard St. Michel—the students' boulevard—until it +reached the Luxembourg Gardens. Like most of his kind, the +<i>cocher</i> knew less than nothing of the art of driving, and he +ran a reckless, zig-zag flight, in and out, forcing his way +through a confusing maze of vehicles of every description, pulling +first to the right, then to the left, for no good purpose that was +apparent, and averting only by the narrowest of margins half a +dozen bad collisions. At times the <i>fiacre</i> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page79" id="page79" title="79"></a> +lurched in such alarming fashion that Shirley was visibly +perturbed, but when Jefferson assured her that all Paris cabs +travelled in this crazy fashion and nothing ever happened, she was +comforted.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” he repeated, “what do the papers +say about the book?”</p> + +<p>“Say?” he echoed. “Why, simply that you've +written the biggest book of the year, that's all!”</p> + +<p>“Really! Oh, do tell me all they said!” She was +fairly excited now, and in her enthusiasm she grasped Jefferson's +broad, sunburnt hand which was lying outside the carriage rug. He +tried to appear unconscious of the contact, which made his every +nerve tingle, as he proceeded to tell her the gist of the reviews +he had read that afternoon.</p> + +<p>“Isn't that splendid!” she exclaimed, when he had +finished. Then she added quickly:</p> + +<p>“I wonder if your father has seen it?”</p> + +<p>Jefferson grinned. He had something on his conscience, and this +was a good opportunity to get rid of it. He replied +laconically:</p> + +<p>“He probably has read it by this time. I sent him a copy +myself.”</p> + +<p>The instant the words were out of his mouth he was sorry, for +Shirley's face had changed colour.</p> + +<a name="movquote1" id="movquote1"></a> +<p>“You sent him a copy of ‘The American Octopus’?” +<a class="pagebreak" name="page80" id="page80" title="80"></a> +she cried. “Then he'll guess who wrote the book.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, he won't,” rejoined Jefferson calmly. +“He has no idea who sent it to him. I mailed it +anonymously.”</p> + +<p>Shirley breathed a sigh of relief. It was so important that her +identity should remain a secret. As daughter of a Supreme Court +judge she had to be most careful. She would not embarrass her +father for anything in the world. But it was smart of Jefferson to +have sent Ryder, Sr., the book, so she smiled graciously on his +son as she asked:</p> + +<p>“How do you know he got it? So many letters and packages +are sent to him that he never sees himself.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he saw your book all right,” laughed +Jefferson. “I was around the house a good deal before +sailing, and one day I caught him in the library reading +it.”</p> + +<p>They both laughed, feeling like mischievous children who had +played a successful trick on the hokey-pokey man. Jefferson noted +his companion's pretty dimples and fine teeth, and he thought how +attractive she was, and stronger and stronger grew the idea within +him that this was the woman who was intended by Nature to share +his life. Her slender hand +<a class="pagebreak" name="page81" id="page81" title="81"></a> +still covered his broad, sunburnt one, and he fancied he felt a +slight pressure. But he was mistaken. Not the slightest sentiment +entered into Shirley's thoughts of Jefferson. She regarded him +only as a good comrade with whom she had secrets she confided in +no one else. To that extent and to that extent alone he was +privileged above other men. Suddenly he asked her:</p> + +<p>“Have you heard from home recently?”</p> + +<p>A soft light stole into the girl's face. Home! Ah, that was all +she needed to make her cup of happiness full. Intoxicated with +this new sensation of a first literary success, full of the keen +pleasure this visit to the beautiful city was giving her, bubbling +over with the joy of life, happy in the almost daily companionship +of the man she liked most in the world after her father, there was +only one thing lacking—home! She had left New York only a +month before, and she was homesick already. Her father she missed +most. She was fond of her mother, too, but the latter, being +somewhat of a nervous invalid, had never been to her quite what +her father had been. The playmate of her childhood, companion of +her girlhood, her friend and adviser in womanhood, Judge Rossmore +was to his daughter the ideal man and father. Answering +Jefferson's question she said:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page82" id="page82" title="82"></a> +<p>“I had a letter from father last week. Everything was +going on at home as when I left. Father says he misses me sadly, +and that mother is ailing as usual.”</p> + +<p>She smiled, and Jefferson smiled too. They both knew by +experience that nothing really serious ailed Mrs. Rossmore, who +was a good deal of a hypochondriac, and always so filled with +aches and pains that, on the few occasions when she really felt +well, she was genuinely alarmed.</p> + +<p>The <i>fiacre</i> by this time had emerged from the Rue de +Rivoli and was rolling smoothly along the fine wooden pavement in +front of the historic Conciergerie prison where Marie Antoinette +was confined before her execution. Presently they recrossed the +Seine, and the cab, dodging the tram car rails, proceeded at a +smart pace up the “Boul' Mich',” which is the familiar +diminutive bestowed by the students upon that broad avenue which +traverses the very heart of their beloved <i>Quartier Latin</i>. +On the left frowned the scholastic walls of the learned Sorbonne, +in the distance towered the majestic dome of the Panthéon where +Rousseau, Voltaire and Hugo lay buried.</p> + +<p>Like most of the principal arteries of the French capital, the +boulevard was generously lined with trees, now in full bloom, and +the sidewalks fairly seethed with a picturesque throng in which +mingled promiscuously +<a class="pagebreak" name="page83" id="page83" title="83"></a> +frivolous students, dapper shop clerks, sober citizens, and +frisky, flirtatious little <i>ouvrières</i>, these last being all +hatless, as is characteristic of the workgirl class, but +singularly attractive in their neat black dresses and dainty +low-cut shoes. There was also much in evidence another type of +female whose extravagance of costume and boldness of manner loudly +proclaimed her ancient profession.</p> + +<p>On either side of the boulevard were shops and cafés, mostly +cafés, with every now and then a <i>brasserie</i>, or beer hall. +Seated in front of these establishments, taking their ease as if +beer sampling constituted the only real interest in their lives, +were hundreds of students, reckless and dare-devil, and suggesting +almost anything except serious study. They all wore frock coats +and tall silk hats, and some of the latter were wonderful +specimens of the hatter's art. A few of the more eccentric +students had long hair down to their shoulders, and wore baggy +peg-top trousers of extravagant cut, which hung in loose folds +over their sharp-pointed boots. On their heads were queer plug +hats with flat brims.</p> + +<p>Shirley laughed outright and regretted that she did not have +her kodak to take back to America some idea of their grotesque +appearance, and she listened with amused interest as Jefferson +explained that these men +<a class="pagebreak" name="page84" id="page84" title="84"></a> +were notorious <i>poseurs</i>, aping the dress and manners of the +old-time student as he flourished in the days of Randolph and Mimi +and the other immortal characters of Murger's Bohemia. Nobody took +them seriously except themselves, and for the most part they were +bad rhymesters of decadent verse. Shirley was astonished to see so +many of them busily engaged smoking cigarettes and imbibing +glasses of a pale-green beverage, which Jefferson told her was +absinthe.</p> + +<p>“When do they read?” she asked. “When do they +attend lectures?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” laughed Jefferson, “only the +old-fashioned students take their studies seriously. Most of the +men you see there are from the provinces, seeing Paris for the +first time, and having their fling. Incidentally they are studying +life. When they have sown their wild oats and learned all about +life—provided they are still alive and have any money +left—they will begin to study books. You would be surprised +to know how many of these young men, who have been sent to the +University at a cost of goodness knows what sacrifices, return to +their native towns in a few months wrecked in body and mind, +without having once set foot in a lecture room, and, in fact, +having done nothing except inscribe their names on the +rolls.”</p> + +<p>Shirley was glad she knew no such men, and if she +<a class="pagebreak" name="page85" id="page85" title="85"></a> +ever married and had a son she would pray God to spare her that +grief and humiliation. She herself knew something about the +sacrifices parents make to secure a college education for their +children. Her father had sent her to Vassar. She was a product of +the much-sneered-at higher education for women, and all her life +she would be grateful for the advantages given her. Her liberal +education had broadened her outlook on life and enabled her to +accomplish the little she had. When she graduated her father had +left her free to follow her own inclinations. She had little taste +for social distractions, and still she could not remain idle. For +a time she thought of teaching to occupy her mind, but she knew +she lacked the necessary patience, and she could not endure the +drudgery of it, so, having won honors at college in English +composition, she determined to try her hand at literature. She +wrote a number of essays and articles on a hundred different +subjects which she sent to the magazines, but they all came back +with politely worded excuses for their rejection. But Shirley kept +right on. She knew she wrote well; it must be that her subjects +were not suitable. So she adopted new tactics, and persevered +until one day came a letter of acceptance from the editor of one +of the minor magazines. They would take the article +offered—a sketch +<a class="pagebreak" name="page86" id="page86" title="86"></a> +of college life—and as many more in similar vein as Miss +Rossmore could write. This success had been followed by other +acceptances and other commissions, until at the present time she +was a well-known writer for the leading publications. Her great +ambition had been to write a book, and “The American +Octopus,” published under an assumed name, was the +result.</p> + +<p>The cab stopped suddenly in front of beautiful gilded gates. It +was the Luxembourg, and through the tall railings they caught a +glimpse of well-kept lawns, splashing fountains and richly dressed +children playing. From the distance came the stirring strains of a +brass band.</p> + +<p>The coachman drove up to the curb and Jefferson jumped down, +assisting Shirley to alight. In spite of Shirley's protest +Jefferson insisted on paying.</p> + +<p>“<i>Combien?</i>” he asked the <i>cocher</i>.</p> + +<p>The jehu, a surly, thick-set man with a red face and small, +cunning eyes like a ferret, had already sized up his fares for two +<i>sacré</i> foreigners whom it would be flying in the face of +Providence not to cheat, so with unblushing effrontery he +answered:</p> + +<p>“<i>Dix francs, Monsieur!</i>” And he held up ten +fingers by way of illustration.</p> + +<p>Jefferson was about to hand up a ten-franc piece when Shirley +indignantly interfered. She would not +<a class="pagebreak" name="page87" id="page87" title="87"></a> +submit to such an imposition. There was a regular tariff and she +would pay that and nothing more. So, in better French than was at +Jefferson's command, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Ten francs? <i>Pourquoi dix francs?</i> I took your cab +by the hour. It is exactly two hours. That makes four +francs.” Then to Jefferson she added: “Give him a +franc for a <i>pourboire</i>—that makes five francs +altogether.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson, obedient to her superior wisdom, held out a +five-franc piece, but the driver shrugged his shoulders +disdainfully. He saw that the moment had come to bluster so he +descended from his box fully prepared to carry out his bluff. He +started in to abuse the two Americans whom in his ignorance he +took for English.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you <i>sale Anglais</i>! You come to France to cheat +the poor Frenchman. You make me work all afternoon and then pay me +nothing. Not with this coco! I know my rights and I'll get them, +too.”</p> + +<p>All this was hurled at them in a patois French, almost +unintelligible to Shirley, and wholly so to Jefferson. All he +knew was that the fellow's attitude was becoming unbearably +insolent and he stepped forward with a gleam in his eye that might +have startled the man had he not been so busy shaking his fist at +Shirley. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page88" id="page88" title="88"></a> +But she saw Jefferson's movement and laid her hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>“No, no, Mr. Ryder—no scandal, please. Look, people +are beginning to come up! Leave him to me. I know how to manage +him.”</p> + +<p>With this the daughter of a United States Supreme Court judge +proceeded to lay down the law to the representative of the most +lazy and irresponsible class of men ever let loose in the streets +of a civilised community. Speaking with an air of authority, she +said:</p> + +<p>“Now look here, my man, we have no time to bandy words +here with you. I took your cab at 3.30. It is now 5.30. That makes +two hours. The rate is two francs an hour, or four francs in all. +We offer you five francs, and this includes a franc +<i>pourboire</i>. If this settlement does not suit you we will get +into your cab and you will drive us to the nearest police-station +where the argument can be continued.”</p> + +<p>The man's jaw dropped. He was obviously outclassed. These +foreigners knew the law as well as he did. He had no desire to +accept Shirley's suggestion of a trip to the police-station, where +he knew he would get little sympathy, so, grumbling and giving +vent under his breath to a volley of strange oaths, he grabbed +viciously at the five-franc piece Jefferson held out and, mounting +his box, drove off.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page89" id="page89" title="89"></a> +<p>Proud of their victory, they entered the gardens, following the +sweet-scented paths until they came to where the music was. The +band of an infantry regiment was playing, and a large crowd had +gathered. Many people were sitting on the chairs provided for +visitors for the modest fee of two sous; others were promenading +round and round a great circle having the musicians in its centre. +The dense foliage of the trees overhead afforded a perfect shelter +from the hot rays of the sun, and the place was so inviting and +interesting, so cool and so full of sweet perfumes and sounds, +appealing to and satisfying the senses, that Shirley wished they +had more time to spend there. She was very fond of a good brass +band, especially when heard in the open air. They were playing +Strauss's <i>Blue Danube</i>, and the familiar strains of the +delightful waltz were so infectious that both were seized by a +desire to get up and dance.</p> + +<p>There was constant amusement, too, watching the crowd, with its +many original and curious types. There were serious college +professors, with gold-rimmed spectacles, buxom <i>nounous</i> in +their uniform cloaks and long ribbon streamers, nicely dressed +children romping merrily but not noisily, more queer-looking +students in shabby frock coats, tight at the waist, trousers too +short, and comical hats, stylishly +<a class="pagebreak" name="page90" id="page90" title="90"></a> +dressed women displaying the latest fashions, brilliantly +uniformed army officers strutting proudly, dangling their +swords—an attractive and interesting crowd, so different, +thought the two Americans, from the cheap, evil-smelling, +ill-mannered mob of aliens that invades their own Central Park the +days when there is music, making it a nuisance instead of a +pleasure. Here everyone belonged apparently to the better class; +the women and children were richly and fashionably dressed, the +officers looked smart in their multi-coloured uniforms, and, no +matter how one might laugh at the students, there was an +atmosphere of good-breeding and refinement everywhere which +Shirley was not accustomed to see in public places at home. A +sprinkling of workmen and people of the poorer class were to be +seen here and there, but they were in the decided minority. +Shirley, herself a daughter of the Revolution, was a staunch +supporter of the immortal principles of Democracy and of the +equality of man before the law. But all other talk of equality was +the greatest sophistry and charlatanism. There could be no real +equality so long as some people were cultured and refined and +others were uneducated and vulgar. Shirley believed in an +aristocracy of brains and soap. She insisted that no clean person, +no matter how good a democrat, should be expected to sit +<a class="pagebreak" name="page91" id="page91" title="91"></a> +close in public places to persons who were not on speaking terms +with the bath-tub. In America this foolish theory of a democracy, +which insists on throwing all classes, the clean and the unclean, +promiscuously together, was positively revolting, making +travelling in the public vehicles almost impossible, and it was +not much better in the public parks. In France—also a +Republic—where they likewise paraded conspicuously the +clap-trap “Egalité, Fraternité,” they managed these +things far better. The French lower classes knew their place. They +did not ape the dress, nor frequent the resorts of those above +them in the social scale. The distinction between the classes was +plainly and properly marked, yet this was not antagonistic to the +ideal of true democracy; it had not prevented the son of a peasant +from becoming President of the French Republic. Each district in +Paris had its own amusement, its own theatres, its own parks. It +was not a question of capital refusing to fraternize with labour, +but the very natural desire of persons of refinement to mingle +with clean people rather than to rub elbows with the Great +Unwashed.</p> + +<p>“Isn't it delightful here?” said Shirley. “I +could stay here forever, couldn't you?”</p> + +<p>“With you—yes,” answered Jefferson, with a +significant smile.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page92" id="page92" title="92"></a> +<p>Shirley tried to look angry. She strictly discouraged these +conventional, sentimental speeches which constantly flung her sex +in her face.</p> + +<p>“Now, you know I don't like you to talk that way, Mr. +Ryder. It's most undignified. Please be sensible.”</p> + +<p>Quite subdued, Jefferson relapsed into a sulky silence. +Presently he said:</p> + +<p>“I wish you wouldn't call me Mr. Ryder. I meant to ask +you this before. +<a name="insquote10" id="insquote10"></a> +You know very well that you've no great love for the name, and if +you persist you'll end by including me in your hatred of the hero +of your book.”</p> + +<p>Shirley looked at him with amused curiosity.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” she asked. “What do you +want me to call you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don't know,” he stammered, rather +intimidated by this self-possessed young woman who looked him +calmly through and through. “Why not call me Jefferson? Mr. +Ryder is so formal.”</p> + +<p>Shirley laughed outright, a merry, unrestrained peal of honest +laughter, which made the passers-by turn their heads and smile, +too, commenting the while on the stylish appearance of the two +Americans whom they took for sweethearts. After all, reasoned +Shirley, he was right. They had been together now nearly +<a class="pagebreak" name="page93" id="page93" title="93"></a> +every hour in the day for over a month. It was absurd to call him +Mr. Ryder. So, addressing him with mock gravity, she said:</p> + +<p>“You're right, Mr. Ryder—I mean Jefferson. You're +quite right. You are Jefferson from this time on, only +remember”—here she shook her gloved finger at him +warningly—“mind you behave yourself! No more such +sentimental speeches as you made just now.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson beamed. He felt at least two inches taller, and at +that moment he would not have changed places with any one in the +world. To hide the embarrassment his gratification caused him he +pulled out his watch and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Why, it's a quarter past six. We shall have all we can +do to get back to the hotel and dress for dinner.”</p> + +<p>Shirley rose at once, although loath to leave.</p> + +<p>“I had no idea it was so late,” she said. +“How the time flies!” Then mockingly she added: +“Come, Jefferson—be a good boy and find a +cab.”</p> + +<p>They passed out of the Gardens by the gate facing the Théâtre +de l'Odéon, where there was a long string of <i>fiacres</i> for +hire. They got into one and in fifteen minutes they were back at +the Grand Hotel.</p> + +<a name="typo2" id="typo2"></a> +<p>At the office they told Shirley that her aunt had already come +in and gone to her room, so she hurried +<a class="pagebreak" name="page94" id="page94" title="94"></a> +upstairs to dress for dinner while Jefferson proceeded to the +Hotel de l'Athénée on the same mission. He had still twenty-five +minutes before dinner time, and he needed only ten minutes for a +wash and to jump into his dress suit, so, instead of going +directly to his hotel, he sat down at the Café de la Paix. He was +thirsty, and calling for a vermouth <i>frappé</i> he told the +<i>garçon</i> to bring him also the American papers.</p> + +<p>The crowd on the boulevard was denser than ever. The business +offices and some of the shops were closing, and a vast army of +employés, homeward bound, helped to swell the sea of humanity that +pushed this way and that.</p> + +<p>But Jefferson had no eyes for the crowd. He was thinking of +Shirley. What singular, mysterious power had this girl acquired +over him? He, who had scoffed at the very idea of marriage only a +few months before, now desired it ardently, anxiously! Yes, that +was what his life lacked—such a woman to be his companion +and helpmate! He loved her—there was no doubt of that. His +every thought, waking and sleeping, was of her, all his plans for +the future included her. He would win her if any man could. But +did she care for him? Ah, that was the cruel, torturing +uncertainty! She appeared cold and indifferent, but perhaps +<a class="pagebreak" name="page95" id="page95" title="95"></a> +she was only trying him. Certainly she did not seem to dislike +him.</p> + +<p>The waiter returned with the vermouth and the newspapers. All +he could find were the London <i>Times</i>, which he pronounced +T-e-e-m-s, and some issues of the <i>New York Herald</i>. The +papers were nearly a month old, but he did not care for that. +Jefferson idly turned over the pages of the <i>Herald</i>. His +thoughts were still running on Shirley, and he was paying little +attention to what he was reading. Suddenly, however, his eyes +rested on a headline which made him sit up with a start. It read +as follows:</p> + +<blockquote> +<h4>JUDGE ROSSMORE IMPEACHED</h4> +<h5>JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME COURT TO BE TRIED ON +BRIBERY CHARGES</h5> +</blockquote> + +<p>The despatch, which was dated Washington two weeks back, went +on to say that serious charges affecting the integrity of Judge +Rossmore had been made the subject of Congressional inquiry, and +that the result of the inquiry was so grave that a demand for +impeachment would be at once sent to the Senate. It added that +the charges grew out of the recent decision in the Great +Northwestern Mining Company case, it being alleged that Judge +Rossmore had accepted +<a class="pagebreak" name="page96" id="page96" title="96"></a> +a large sum of money on condition of his handing down a decision +favourable to the company.</p> + +<p>Jefferson was thunderstruck. He read the despatch over again to +make sure there was no mistake. No, it was very plain—Judge +Rossmore of Madison Avenue. But how preposterous, what a calumny! +The one judge on the bench at whom one could point and say with +absolute conviction: “There goes an honest man!” And +this judge was to be tried on a charge of bribery! What could be +the meaning of it? Something terrible must have happened since +Shirley's departure from home, that was certain. It meant her +immediate return to the States and, of course, his own. He would +see what could be done. He would make his father use his great +influence. But how could he tell Shirley? Impossible, he could +not! She would not believe him if he did. She would probably hear +from home in some other way. They might cable. In any case he +would say nothing yet. He paid for his vermouth and hurried away +to his hotel to dress.</p> + +<p>It was just striking seven when he re-entered the courtyard of +the Grand Hotel. Shirley and Mrs. Blake were waiting for him. +Jefferson suggested having dinner at the Café de Paris, but +Shirley objected that as the weather was warm it would be more +pleasant to dine in the open air, so they finally decided +<a class="pagebreak" name="page97" id="page97" title="97"></a> +on the Pavilion d'Armonville where there was music and where they +could have a little table to themselves in the garden.</p> + +<p>They drove up the stately Champs Elysées, past the monumental +Arc de Triomphe, and from there down to the Bois. All were +singularly quiet. Mrs. Blake was worrying about her new gown, +Shirley was tired, and Jefferson could not banish from his mind +the terrible news he had just read. He avoided looking at Shirley +until the latter noticed it and thought she must have offended him +in some way. She was more sorry than she would have him know, for, +with all her apparent coldness, Jefferson was rapidly becoming +very indispensable to her happiness.</p> + +<p>They dined sumptuously and delightfully with all the luxury of +surroundings and all the delights of cooking that the French +culinary art can perfect. A single glass of champagne had put +Shirley in high spirits and she had tried hard to communicate some +of her good humour to Jefferson who, despite all her efforts, +remained quiet and preoccupied. Finally losing patience she asked +him bluntly:</p> + +<p>“Jefferson, what's the matter with you to-night? You've +been sulky as a bear all evening.”</p> + +<p>Pleased to see she had not forgotten their compact +<a class="pagebreak" name="page98" id="page98" title="98"></a> +of the afternoon in regard to his name, Jefferson relaxed somewhat +and said apologetically:</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, I've been feeling a bit seedy lately. I +think I need another sea voyage. That's the only time when I feel +really first-class—when I'm on the water.”</p> + +<p>The mention of the sea started Shirley to talk about her future +plans. She wasn't going back to America until September. She had +arranged to make a stay of three weeks in London and then she +would be free. Some friends of hers from home, a man and his wife +who owned a steam yacht, were arranging a trip to the +Mediterranean, including a run over to Cairo. They had asked her +and Mrs. Blake to go and she was sure they would ask Jefferson, +too. Would he go?</p> + +<p>There was no way out of it. Jefferson tried to work up some +enthusiasm for this yachting trip, which he knew very well could +never come off, and it cut him to the heart to see this poor girl +joyously making all these preparations and plans, little dreaming +of the domestic calamity which at that very moment was hanging +over her head.</p> + +<a name="photo2" id="photo2"></a> +<blockquote class="illustration"><a href="images/photo2.jpg"> +<img src="images/photo2.png" width="449" height="266" +alt="[Photo, from the play, of the Ryder household +as Jefferson is introduced to Miss Green.]" /></a></blockquote> +<blockquote class="central">“Father, I've changed my mind, +I'm not going away.”—Act II.</blockquote> + +<p>It was nearly ten o'clock when they had finished. They sat a +little longer listening to the gipsy music, weird and barbaric. +Very pointedly, Shirley remarked:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page99" id="page99" title="99"></a> +<p>“I for one preferred the music this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” inquired Jefferson, ignoring the petulant +note in her voice.</p> + +<p>“Because you were more amiable!” she retorted +rather crossly.</p> + +<p>This was their first misunderstanding, but Jefferson said +nothing. He could not tell her the thoughts and fears that had +been haunting him all night. Soon afterward they re-entered their +cab and returned to the boulevards which were ablaze with light +and gaiety. Jefferson suggested going somewhere else, but Mrs. +Blake was tired and Shirley, now quite irritated at what she +considered Jefferson's unaccountable unsociability, declined +somewhat abruptly. But she could never remain angry long, and when +they said good-night she whispered demurely:</p> + +<p>“Are you cross with me, Jeff?”</p> + +<p>He turned his head away and she saw that his face was +singularly drawn and grave.</p> + +<p>“Cross—no. Good-night. God bless you!” he +said, hoarsely gulping down a lump that rose in his throat. Then +grasping her hand he hurried away.</p> + +<p>Completely mystified, Shirley and her companion turned to the +office to get the key of their room. As the man handed it to +Shirley he passed her also a cablegram which had just come. She +changed colour. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page100" id="page100" title="100"></a> +She did not like telegrams. She always had a dread of them, for +with her sudden news was usually bad news. Could this, she +thought, explain Jefferson's strange behaviour? Trembling, she +tore open the envelope and read:</p> + +<blockquote class="central"><i>Come home at once,</i></blockquote> +<blockquote class="signature"><i>Mother.</i></blockquote> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page101" id="page101" title="101"></a> +<a name="chapter5" id="chapter5"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p>Rolling, tumbling, splashing, foaming water as far as the eye +could reach in every direction. A desolate waste, full of life, +movement and colour, extending to the bleak horizon and like a +vast ploughed field cut up into long and high liquid ridges, all +scurrying in one direction in serried ranks and with incredible +speed as if pursued by a fearful and unseen enemy. Serenely yet +boisterously, gracefully yet resistlessly, the endless waves +passed on—some small, others monstrous, with fleecy white +combs rushing down their green sides like toy Niagaras and with a +seething, boiling sound as when flame touches water. They went by +in a stately, never ending procession, going nowhere, coming from +nowhere, but full of dignity and importance, their breasts heaving +with suppressed rage because there was nothing in their path that +they might destroy. The dancing, leaping water reflected every +shade and tint—now a rich green, then a deep blue and again +a dirty gray as the sun hid for a moment behind a cloud, and as a +gust of wind caught the top of the combers decapitating +<a class="pagebreak" name="page102" id="page102" title="102"></a> +them at one mad rush, the spray was dashed high in the air, +flashing out all the prismatic colours. Here and yonder, the +white caps rose, disappeared and came again, and the waves grew +and then diminished in size. Then others rose, towering, became +larger, majestic, terrible; the milk-like comb rose proudly, +soared a brief moment, then fell ignominiously, and the wave +diminished passed on humiliated. Over head, a few scattered cirrus +clouds flitted lazily across the blue dome of heaven, while a +dozen Mother Carey chickens screamed hoarsely as they circled in +the air. The strong and steady western breeze bore on its powerful +pinions the sweet and eternal music of the wind and sea.</p> + +<p>Shirley stood at the rail under the bridge of the ocean +greyhound that was carrying her back to America with all the speed +of which her mighty engines were capable. All day and all night, +half naked stokers, so grimed with oil and coal dust as to lose +the slightest semblance to human beings, feverishly shovelled +coal, throwing it rapidly and evenly over roaring furnaces kept at +a fierce white heat. The vast boilers, shaken by the titanic +forces generating in their cavern-like depths, sent streams of +scalding, hissing steam through a thousand valves, cylinders and +pistons, turning wheels and cranks as it +<a class="pagebreak" name="page103" id="page103" title="103"></a> +distributed the tremendous power which was driving the steel +monster through the seas at the prodigious speed of four hundred +miles in the twenty-four hours. Like a pulsating heart in some +living thing, the mammoth engines throbbed and panted, and the +great vessel groaned and creaked as she rose and fell to the heavy +swell, and again lurched forward in obedience to each fresh +propulsion from her fast spinning screws. Out on deck, volumes of +dense black smoke were pouring from four gigantic smoke stacks and +spread out in the sky like some endless cinder path leading back +over the course the ship had taken.</p> + +<p>They were four days out from port. Two days more and they would +sight Sandy Hook, and Shirley would know the worst. She had caught +the North German Lloyd boat at Cherbourg two days after receiving +the cablegram from New York. Mrs. Blake had insisted on coming +along in spite of her niece's protests. Shirley argued that she +had crossed alone when coming; she could go back the same way. +Besides, was not Mr. Ryder returning home on the same ship? He +would be company and protection both. But Mrs. Blake was bent on +making the voyage. She had not seen her sister for many years +and, moreover, this sudden return to America had upset her own +plans. She was a poor sailor, yet she loved the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page104" id="page104" title="104"></a> +ocean and this was a good excuse for a long trip. Shirley was too +exhausted with worry to offer further resistance and by great good +luck the two women had been able to secure at the last moment a +cabin to themselves amidships. Jefferson, less fortunate, was +compelled, to his disgust, to share a stateroom with another +passenger, a fat German brewer who was returning to Cincinnati, +and who snored so loud at night that even the thumping of the +engines was completely drowned by his eccentric nasal sounds.</p> + +<p>The alarming summons home and the terrible shock she had +experienced the following morning when Jefferson showed her the +newspaper article with its astounding and heart rending news about +her father had almost prostrated Shirley. The blow was all the +greater for being so entirely unlooked for. That the story was +true she could not doubt. Her mother would not have cabled except +under the gravest circumstances. What alarmed Shirley still more +was that she had no direct news of her father. For a moment her +heart stood still—suppose the shock of this shameful +accusation had killed him? Her blood froze in her veins, she +clenched her fists and dug her nails into her flesh as she thought +of the dread possibility that she had looked upon him in life for +the last time. She remembered his last kind words when he +<a class="pagebreak" name="page105" id="page105" title="105"></a> +came to the steamer to see her off, and his kiss when he said +good-bye and she had noticed a tear of which he appeared to be +ashamed. The hot tears welled up in her own eyes and coursed +unhindered down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>What could these preposterous and abominable charges mean? What +was this lie they had invented to ruin her father? That he had +enemies she well knew. What strong man had not? Indeed, his +proverbial honesty had made him feared by all evil-doers and on +one occasion they had gone so far as to threaten his life. This +new attack was more deadly than all—to sap and destroy his +character, to deliberately fabricate lies and calumnies which had +no foundation whatever. Of course, the accusation was absurd, the +Senate would refuse to convict him, the entire press would espouse +the cause of so worthy a public servant. Certainly, everything +would be done to clear his character. But what was being done? She +could do nothing but wait and wait. The suspense and anxiety were +awful.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she heard a familiar step behind her, and Jefferson +joined her at the rail. The wind was due West and blowing half a +gale, so where they were standing—one of the most exposed +parts of the ship—it was difficult to keep one's feet, to +say nothing of hearing anyone speak. There was a heavy sea +running, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page106" id="page106" title="106"></a> +and each approaching wave looked big enough to engulf the vessel, +but as the mass of moving water reached the bow, the ship rose on +it, light and graceful as a bird, shook off the flying spray as a +cat shakes her fur after an unwelcome bath, and again drove +forward as steady and with as little perceptible motion as a +railway train. Shirley was a fairly good sailor and this kind of +weather did not bother her in the least, but when it got very +rough she could not bear the rolling and pitching and then all she +was good for was to lie still in her steamer chair with her eyes +closed until the water was calmer and the pitching ceased.</p> + +<p>“It's pretty windy here, Shirley,” shouted +Jefferson, steadying himself against a stanchion. “Don't you +want to walk a little?”</p> + +<p>He had begun to call her by her first name quite naturally, as +if it were a matter of course. Indeed, their relations had come to +be more like those of brother and sister than anything else. +Shirley was too much troubled over the news from home to have a +mind for other things, and in her distress she had turned to +Jefferson for advice and help as she would have looked to an elder +brother. He had felt this impulse to confide in him and consult +his opinion and it had pleased him more than he dared betray. He +had shown her all the sympathy of which his warm, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page107" id="page107" title="107"></a> +generous nature was capable, yet secretly he did not regret that +events had necessitated this sudden return home together on the +same ship. He was sorry for Judge Rossmore, of course, and there +was nothing he would not do on his return to secure a withdrawal +of the charges. That his father would use his influence he had no +doubt. But meantime he was selfish enough to be glad for the +opportunity it gave him to be a whole week alone with Shirley. No +matter how much one may be with people in city or country or even +when stopping at the same hotel or house, there is no place in the +world where two persons, especially when they are of the opposite +sex, can become so intimate as on shipboard. The reason is +obvious. The days are long and monotonous. There is nowhere to go, +nothing to see but the ocean, nothing to do but read, talk or +promenade. Seclusion in one's stuffy cabin is out of the question, +the public sitting rooms are noisy and impossible, only a steamer +chair on deck is comfortable and once there snugly wrapped up in a +rug it is surprising how quickly another chair makes its +appearance alongside and how welcome one is apt to make the +intruder.</p> + +<p>Thus events combined with the weather conspired to bring +Shirley and Jefferson more closely together. The sea had been +rough ever since they +<a class="pagebreak" name="page108" id="page108" title="108"></a> +sailed, keeping Mrs. Blake confined to her stateroom almost +continuously. They were, therefore, constantly in one another's +company, and slowly, unconsciously, there was taking root in their +hearts the germ of the only real and lasting love—the love +born of something higher than mere physical attraction, the +nobler, more enduring affection that is born of mutual sympathy, +association and companionship.</p> + +<p>“Isn't it beautiful?” exclaimed Shirley +ecstatically. “Look at those great waves out there! See how +majestically they soar and how gracefully they fall!”</p> + +<p>“Glorious!” assented Jefferson sharing her +enthusiasm. “There's nothing to compare with it. It's +Nature's grandest spectacle. The ocean is the only place on earth +that man has not defiled and spoiled. Those waves are the same +now as they were on the day of creation.”</p> + +<p>“Not the day of creation. You mean during the aeons of +time creation was evolving,” corrected Shirley.</p> + +<p>“I meant that of course,” assented Jefferson. +“When one says ‘day’ that is only a form of +speech.”</p> + +<p>“Why not be accurate?” persisted Shirley. “It +was the use of that little word ‘day’ which has given +the theologians so many sleepless nights.”</p> + +<p>There was a roguish twinkle in her eye. She well +<a class="pagebreak" name="page109" id="page109" title="109"></a> +knew that he thought as she did on metaphysical questions, but she +could not resist teasing him.</p> + +<p>Like Jefferson, she was not a member of any church, although +her nature was deeply religious. Hers was the religion the soul +inculcates, not that which is learned by rote in the temple. She +was a Christian because she thought Christ the greatest figure in +world history, and also because her own conduct of life was +modelled upon Christian principles and virtues. She was religious +for religion's sake and not for public ostentation. The mystery of +life awed her and while her intelligence could not accept all the +doctrines of dogmatic religion she did not go so far as Jefferson, +who was a frank agnostic. She would not admit that we do not know. +The longings and aspirations of her own soul convinced her of the +existence of a Supreme Being, First Cause, Divine +Intelligence—call it what you will—which had brought +out of chaos the wonderful order of the universe. The human mind +was, indeed, helpless to conceive such a First Cause in any form +and lay prostrate before the Unknown, yet she herself was an +enthusiastic delver into scientific hypothesis and the teachings +of Darwin, Spencer, Haeckel had satisfied her intellect if they +had failed to content her soul. The theory of evolution as applied +to life on her own little planet appealed +<a class="pagebreak" name="page110" id="page110" title="110"></a> +strongly to her because it accounted plausibly for the presence of +man on earth. The process through which we had passed could be +understood by every intelligence. The blazing satellite, +violently detached from the parent sun starting on its +circumscribed orbit—that was the first stage, the gradual +subsidence of the flames and the cooling of the crust—the +second stage: the gases mingling and forming water which covered +the earth—the third stage; the retreating of the waters and +the appearance of the land—the fourth stage; the appearance +of vegetation and animal life—the fifth stage; then, after a +long interval and through constant evolution and change the +appearance of man, which was the sixth stage. What stages still to +come, who knows? This simple account given by science was, after +all, practically identical with the biblical legend!</p> + +<p>It was when Shirley was face to face with Nature in her wildest +and most primitive aspects that this deep rooted religious feeling +moved her most strongly. At these times she felt herself another +being, exalted, sublimated, lifted from this little world with its +petty affairs and vanities up to dizzy heights. She had felt the +same sensation when for the first time she had viewed the glories +of the snow clad Matterhorn, she had felt it when on a summer's +night at sea she had sat on deck and watched with fascinated awe +the resplendent +<a class="pagebreak" name="page111" id="page111" title="111"></a> +radiance of the countless stars, she felt it now as she looked at +the foaming, tumbling waves.</p> + +<p>“It is so beautiful,” she murmured as she turned to +walk. The ship was rolling a little and she took Jefferson's arm +to steady herself. Shirley was an athletic girl and had all the +ease and grace of carriage that comes of much tennis and golf +playing. Barely twenty-four years old, she was still in the first +flush of youth and health, and there was nothing she loved so much +as exercise and fresh air. After a few turns on deck, there was a +ruddy glow in her cheeks that was good to see and many an admiring +glance was cast at the young couple as they strode briskly up and +down past the double rows of elongated steamer chairs.</p> + +<p>They had the deck pretty much to themselves. It was only four +o'clock, too early for the appetite-stimulating walk before +dinner, and their fellow passengers were basking in the sunshine, +stretched out on their chairs in two even rows like so many +mummies on exhibition. Some were reading, some were dozing. Two +or three were under the weather, completely prostrated, their +bilious complexion of a deathly greenish hue. At each new roll of +the ship, they closed their eyes as if resigned to the worst that +might happen and their immediate neighbours furtively eyed each of +their +<a class="pagebreak" name="page112" id="page112" title="112"></a> +movements as if apprehensive of what any moment might bring forth. +A few couples were flirting to their heart's content under the +friendly cover of the lifeboats which, as on most of the +transatlantic liners, were more useful in saving reputations than +in saving life. The deck steward was passing round tea and +biscuits, much to the disgust of the ill ones, but to the keen +satisfaction of the stronger stomached passengers who on shipboard +never seem to be able to get enough to eat and drink. On the +bridge, the second officer, a tall, handsome man with the points +of his moustache trained upwards à la Kaiser Wilhelm, was striding +back and forth, every now and then sweeping the horizon with his +glass and relieving the monotony of his duties by ogling the +better looking women passengers.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Shirley!” called out a voice from a heap of +rugs as Shirley and Jefferson passed the rows of chairs.</p> + +<p>They stopped short and discovered Mrs. Blake ensconced in a +cozy corner, sheltered from the wind.</p> + +<p>“Why, aunt Milly,” exclaimed Shirley surprised. +“I thought you were downstairs. I didn't think you could +stand this sea.”</p> + +<p>“It is a little rougher than I care to have it,” +responded Mrs. Blake with a wry grimace and putting +<a class="pagebreak" name="page113" id="page113" title="113"></a> +her hand to her breast as if to appease disturbing qualms. +“It was so stuffy in the cabin I could not bear it. It's +more pleasant here but it's getting a little cool and I think I'll +go below. Where have you children been all afternoon?”</p> + +<p>Jefferson volunteered to explain.</p> + +<p>“The children have been rhapsodizing over the beauties of +the ocean,” he laughed. With a sly glance at Shirley, he +added, “Your niece has been coaching me in +metaphysics.”</p> + +<p>Shirley shook her finger at him.</p> + +<p>“Now Jefferson, if you make fun of me I'll never talk +seriously with you again.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Wie geht es, meine damen?</i>”</p> + +<p>Shirley turned on hearing the guttural salutation. It was +Captain Hegermann, the commander of the ship, a big florid Saxon +with great bushy golden whiskers and a basso voice like Edouard de +Reszké. He was imposing in his smart uniform and gold braid and +his manner had the self-reliant, authoritative air usual in men +who have great responsibilities and are accustomed to command. He +was taking his afternoon stroll and had stopped to chat with his +lady passengers. He had already passed Mrs. Blake a dozen times +and not noticed her, but now her pretty niece was with her, which +altered the situation. He talked +<a class="pagebreak" name="page114" id="page114" title="114"></a> +to the aunt and looked at Shirley, much to the annoyance of +Jefferson, who muttered things under his breath.</p> + +<p>“When shall we be in, captain?” asked Mrs. Blake +anxiously, forgetting that this was one of the questions which +according to ship etiquette must never be asked of the +officers.</p> + +<p>But as long as he could ignore Mrs. Blake and gaze at Shirley +Capt. Hegermann did not mind. He answered amiably:</p> + +<p>“At the rate we are going, we ought to sight Fire Island +sometime to-morrow evening. If we do, that will get us to our dock +about 11 o'clock Friday morning, I fancy.” Then addressing +Shirley direct he said:</p> + +<p>“And you, fraulein, I hope you won't be glad the voyage +is over?”</p> + +<p>Shirley sighed and a worried, anxious look came into her +face.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Captain, I shall be very glad. It is not pleasure +that is bringing me back to America so soon.”</p> + +<p>The captain elevated his eyebrows. He was sorry the young lady +had anxieties to keep her so serious, and he hoped she would find +everything all right on her arrival. Then, politely saluting, he +passed on, only to halt again a few paces on where his bewhiskered +gallantry met with more encouragement.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page115" id="page115" title="115"></a> +<p>Mrs. Blake rose from her chair. The air was decidedly cooler, +she would go downstairs and prepare for dinner. Shirley said she +would remain on deck a little longer. She was tired of walking, so +when her aunt left them she took her chair and told Jefferson to +get another. He wanted nothing better, but before seating himself +he took the rugs and wrapped Shirley up with all the solicitude of +a mother caring for her first born. Arranging the pillow under her +head, he asked:</p> + +<p>“Is that comfortable?”</p> + +<p>She nodded, smiling at him.</p> + +<p>“You're a good boy, Jeff. But you'll spoil me.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” he stammered as he took another chair +and put himself by her side. “As if any fellow wouldn't give +his boots to do a little job like that for you!”</p> + +<p>She seemed to take no notice of the covert compliment. In +fact, she already took it as a matter of course that Jefferson was +very fond of her.</p> + +<p>Did she love him? She hardly knew. Certainly she thought more +of him than of any other man she knew and she readily believed +that she could be with him for the rest of her life and like him +better every day. Then, too, they had become more intimate during +the last few days. This trouble, this unknown peril had +<a class="pagebreak" name="page116" id="page116" title="116"></a> +drawn them together. Yes, she would be sorry if she were to see +Jefferson paying attention to another woman. Was this love? +Perhaps.</p> + +<p>These thoughts were running through her mind as they sat there +side by side isolated from the main herd of passengers, each +silent, watching through the open rail the foaming water as it +rushed past. Jefferson had been casting furtive glances at his +companion and as he noted her serious, pensive face he thought how +pretty she was. He wondered what she was thinking of and suddenly +inspired no doubt by the mysterious power that enables some people +to read the thoughts of others, he said abruptly:</p> + +<p>“Shirley, I can read your thoughts. You were thinking of +me.”</p> + +<p>She was startled for a moment but immediately recovered her +self possession. It never occurred to her to deny it. She pondered +for a moment and then replied:</p> + +<p>“You are right, Jeff, I was thinking of you. How did you +guess?”</p> + +<p>He leaned over her chair and took her hand. She made no +resistance. Her delicate, slender hand lay passively in his big +brown one and met his grasp frankly, cordially. He whispered:</p> + +<p>“What were you thinking of me—good or +bad?”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page117" id="page117" title="117"></a> +<p>“Good, of course. How could I think anything bad of +you?”</p> + +<p>She turned her eyes on him in wonderment. Then she went on:</p> + +<p>“I was wondering how a girl could distinguish between the +feeling she has for a man she merely likes, and the feeling she +has for a man she loves.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson bent eagerly forward so as to lose no word that might +fall from those coveted lips.</p> + +<p>“In what category would I be placed?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I don't quite know,” she answered, laughingly. +Then seriously, she added: “Jeff, why should we act like +children? Your actions, more than your words, have told me that +you love me. I have known it all along. If I have appeared cold +and indifferent it is because”—she hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Because?” echoed Jefferson anxiously, as if his +whole future depended on that reason.</p> + +<p>“Because I was not sure of myself. Would it be womanly or +honourable on my part to encourage you, unless I felt I +reciprocated your feelings? You are young, one day you will be +very rich, the whole world lies before you. There are plenty of +women who would willingly give you their love.”</p> + +<p>“No—no!” he burst out in vigorous protest, +“it is you I want, Shirley, you alone.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page118" id="page118" title="118"></a> +<p>Grasping her hand more closely, he went on, passion vibrating +in every note of his voice. “I love you, Shirley. I've loved +you from the very first evening I met you. I want you to be my +wife.”</p> + +<p>Shirley looked straight up into the blue eyes so eagerly bent +down on hers, so entreating in their expression, and in a gentle +voice full of emotion she answered:</p> + +<p>“Jefferson, you have done me the greatest honour a man +can do a woman. Don't ask me to answer you now. I like you very +much—I more than like you. Whether it is love I feel for +you—that I have not yet determined. Give me time. My present +trouble and then my literary work—”</p> + +<p>“I know,” agreed Jefferson, “that this is +hardly the time to speak of such matters. Your father has first +call on your attention. But as to your literary work. I do not +understand.”</p> + +<p>“Simply this. I am ambitious. I have had a little +success—just enough to crave for more. I realize that +marriage would put an extinguisher on all aspirations in that +direction.”</p> + +<p>“Is marriage so very commonplace?” grumbled +Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“Not commonplace, but there is no room in marriage +for a woman having personal ambitions of her +<a class="pagebreak" name="page119" id="page119" title="119"></a> +own. Once married her duty is to her husband and her +children—not to herself.”</p> + +<p>“That is right,” he replied; “but which is +likely to give you greater joy—a literary success or a happy +wifehood? When you have spent your best years and given the public +your best work they will throw you over for some new favorite. +You'll find yourself an old woman with nothing more substantial to +show as your life work than that questionable asset, a literary +reputation. How many literary reputations to-day conceal an aching +heart and find it difficult to make both ends meet? How different +with the woman who married young and obeys Nature's behest by +contributing her share to the process of evolution. Her life is +spent basking in the affection of her husband and the chubby +smiles of her dimpled babes, and when in the course of time she +finds herself in the twilight of her life, she has at her feet a +new generation of her own flesh and blood. Isn't that better than +a literary reputation?”</p> + +<p>He spoke so earnestly that Shirley looked at him in surprise. +She knew he was serious but she had not suspected that he thought +so deeply on these matters. Her heart told her that he was +uttering the true philosophy of the ages. She said:</p> + +<p>“Why, Jefferson, you talk like a book. Perhaps you +<a class="pagebreak" name="page120" id="page120" title="120"></a> +are right, I have no wish to be a blue stocking and deserted in my +old age, far from it. But give me time to think. Let us first +ascertain the extent of this disaster which has overtaken my +father. Then if you still care for me and if I have not changed my +mind,” here she glanced slyly at him, “we will resume +our discussion.”</p> + +<p>Again she held out her hand which he had released.</p> + +<p>“Is it a bargain?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“It's a bargain,” he murmured, raising the white +hand to his lips. A fierce longing rose within him to take her in +his arms and kiss passionately the mouth that lay temptingly near +his own, but his courage failed him. After all, he reasoned, he +had not yet the right.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later they left the deck and went downstairs to +dress for dinner. That same evening they stood again at the rail +watching the mysterious phosphorescence as it sparkled in the +moonlight. Her thoughts travelling faster than the ship, Shirley +suddenly asked:</p> + +<p>“Do you really think Mr. Ryder will use his influence to +help my father?”</p> + +<p>Jefferson set his jaw fast and the familiar Ryder gleam came +into his eyes as he responded:</p> + +<p>“Why not? My father is all powerful. He has made and +unmade judges and legislators and even +<a class="pagebreak" name="page121" id="page121" title="121"></a> +presidents. Why should he not be able to put a stop to these +preposterous proceedings? I will go to him directly we land and +we'll see what can be done.”</p> + +<p>So the time on shipboard had passed, Shirley alternately buoyed +up with hope and again depressed by the gloomiest forebodings. The +following night they passed Fire Island and the next day the huge +steamer dropped anchor at Quarantine.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page122" id="page122" title="122"></a> +<a name="chapter6" id="chapter6"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p>A month had passed since the memorable meeting of the directors +of the Southern and Transcontinental Railroad in New York and +during that time neither John Burkett Ryder nor Judge Rossmore had +been idle. The former had immediately set in motion the machinery +he controlled in the Legislature at Washington, while the judge +neglected no step to vindicate himself before the public.</p> + +<p>Ryder, for reasons of his own—probably because he wished +to make the blow the more crushing when it did fall—had +insisted on the proceedings at the board meeting being kept a +profound secret and some time elapsed before the newspapers got +wind of the coming Congressional inquiry. No one had believed the +stories about Judge Rossmore but now that a quasi-official seal +had been set on the current gossip, there was a howl of virtuous +indignation from the journalistic muck rakers. What was the +country coming to? they cried in double leaded type. After the +embezzling by life insurance officers, the rascality of the +railroads, the looting of city treasuries, the greed of the +Trusts, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page123" id="page123" title="123"></a> +the grafting of the legislators, had arisen a new and more serious +scandal—the corruption of the Judiciary. The last bulwark +of the nation had fallen, the country lay helpless at the mercy of +legalized sandbaggers. Even the judges were no longer to be +trusted, the most respected one among them all had been unable to +resist the tempter. The Supreme Court, the living voice of the +Constitution, was honeycombed with graft. Public life was rotten +to the core!</p> + +<p>Neither the newspapers nor the public stopped to ascertain the +truth or the falsity of the charges against Judge Rossmore. It was +sufficient that the bribery story furnished the daily sensation +which newspaper editors and newspaper readers must have. The world +is ever more prompt to believe ill rather than good of a man, and +no one, except in Rossmore's immediate circle of friends, +entertained the slightest doubt of his guilt. It was common +knowledge that the “big interests” were behind the +proceedings, and that Judge Rossmore was a scapegoat, sacrificed +by the System because he had been blocking their game. If Rossmore +had really accepted the bribe, and few now believed him spotless, +he deserved all that was coming to him. Senator Roberts was very +active in Washington preparing the case against Judge Rossmore. +The latter being a democrat and “the interests” +controlling +<a class="pagebreak" name="page124" id="page124" title="124"></a> +a Republican majority in the House, it was a foregone conclusion +that the inquiry would be against him, and that a demand would at +once be made upon the Senate for his impeachment.</p> + +<p>Almost prostrated by the misfortune which had so suddenly and +unexpectedly come upon him, Judge Rossmore was like a man +demented. His reason seemed to be tottering, he spoke and acted +like a man in a dream. Naturally he was entirely incapacitated for +work and he had applied to Washington to be temporarily relieved +from his judicial duties. He was instantly granted a leave of +absence and went at once to his home in Madison Avenue, where he +shut himself up in his library, sitting for hours at his desk +wrestling with documents and legal tomes in a pathetic endeavour +to find some way out, trying to elude this net in which unseen +hands had entangled him.</p> + +<p>What an end to his career! To have struggled and achieved for +half a century, to have built up a reputation year by year, as a +man builds a house brick by brick, only to see the whole crumble +to his feet like dust! To have gained the respect of the country, +to have made a name as the most incorruptible of public servants +and now to be branded as a common bribe taker! Could he be +dreaming? It was too incredible! What would his daughter +say—his Shirley? Ah, the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page125" id="page125" title="125"></a> +thought of the expression of incredulity and wonder on her face +when she heard the news cut him to the heart like a knife thrust. +Yet, he mused, her very unwillingness to believe it should really +be his consolation. Ah, his wife and his child—they knew he +had been innocent of wrong doing. The very idea was ridiculous. +At most he had been careless. Yes, he was certainly to blame. He +ought to have seen the trap so carefully prepared and into which +he had walked as if blindfolded. That extra $50,000 worth of +stock, on which he had never received a cent interest, had been +the decoy in a carefully thought out plot. They, the plotters, +well knew how ignorant he was of financial matters and he had been +an easy victim. Who would believe his story that the stock had +been sent to him with a plausibly-worded letter to the effect that +it represented a bonus on his own investment? Now he came to think +of it, calmly and reasonably, he would not believe it himself. As +usual, he had mislaid or destroyed the secretary's letter and +there was only his word against the company's books to +substantiate what would appear a most improbable if not impossible +occurrence.</p> + +<p>It was his conviction of his own good faith that made his +present dilemma all the more cruel. Had he really been a grafter, +had he really taken the stock +<a class="pagebreak" name="page126" id="page126" title="126"></a> +as a bribe he would not care so much, for then he would have +foreseen and discounted the chances of exposure. Yes, there was no +doubt possible. He was the victim of a conspiracy, there was an +organized plot to ruin him, to get him out of the way. The +“interests” feared him, resented his judicial +decisions and they had halted at nothing to accomplish their +purpose. How could he fight them back, what could he do to protect +himself? He had no proofs of a conspiracy, his enemies worked in +the dark, there was no way in which he could reach them or know +who they were.</p> + +<p>He thought of John Burkett Ryder. Ah, he remembered now. Ryder +was the man who had recommended the investment in Alaskan stock. +Of course, why did he not think of it before? He recollected that +at the time he had been puzzled at receiving so much stock and he +had mentioned it to Ryder, adding that the secretary had told him +it was customary. Oh, why had he not kept the secretary's letter? +But Ryder would certainly remember it. He probably still had his +two letters in which he spoke of making the investment. If those +letters could be produced at the Congressional inquiry they would +clear him at once. So losing no time, and filled with renewed hope +he wrote to the Colossus a strong, manly letter which would +<a class="pagebreak" name="page127" id="page127" title="127"></a> +have melted an iceberg, urging Mr. Ryder to come forward now at +this critical time and clear him of this abominable charge, or in +any case to kindly return the two letters he must have in his +possession, as they would go far to help him at the trial. Three +days passed and no reply from Ryder. On the fourth came a polite +but frigid note from Mr. Ryder's private secretary. Mr. Ryder had +received Judge Rossmore's letter and in reply begged to state that +he had a vague recollection of some conversation with the judge in +regard to investments, but he did not think he had advised the +purchase of any particular stock, as that was something he never +did on principle, even with his most intimate friends. He had no +wish to be held accountable in case of loss, etc. As to the letter +which Judge Rossmore mentioned as having written to Mr. Ryder in +regard to having received more stock than he had bought, of that +Mr. Ryder had no recollection whatsoever. Judge Rossmore was +probably mistaken as to the identity of his correspondent. He +regretted he could not be of more service to Judge Rossmore, and +remained his very obedient servant.</p> + +<p>It was very evident that no help was to be looked for in that +quarter. There was even decided hostility in Ryder's reply. Could +it be true that the financier was really behind these attacks upon +his character, was +<a class="pagebreak" name="page128" id="page128" title="128"></a> +it possible that one man merely to make more money would +deliberately ruin his fellow man whose hand he had grasped in +friendship? He had been unwilling to believe it when his friend +ex-judge Stott had pointed to Ryder as the author of all his +misfortunes, but this unsympathetic letter with its falsehoods, +its lies plainly written all over its face, was proof enough. Yes, +there was now no doubt possible. John Burkett Ryder was his enemy +and what an enemy! Many a man had committed suicide when he had +incurred the enmity of the Colossus. Judge Rossmore, completely +discouraged, bowed his head to the inevitable.</p> + +<p>His wife, a nervous, sickly woman, was helpless to comfort or +aid him. She had taken their misfortune as a visitation of an +inscrutable Deity. She knew, of course, that her husband was +wholly innocent of the accusations brought against him and if his +character could be cleared and himself rehabilitated before the +world, she would be the first to rejoice. But if it pleased the +Almighty in His wisdom to sorely try her husband and herself and +inflict this punishment upon them it was not for the finite mind +to criticise the ways of Providence. There was probably some good +reason for the apparent cruelty and injustice of it which their +earthly understanding failed to grasp. Mrs. Rossmore found much +comfort in this philosophy, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page129" id="page129" title="129"></a> +which gave a satisfactory ending to both ends of the problem, and +she was upheld in her view by the rector of the church which she +had attended regularly each Sunday for the past five and twenty +years. Christian resignation in the hour of trial, submission to +the will of Heaven were, declared her spiritual adviser, the +fundamental principles of religion. He could only hope that Mrs. +Rossmore would succeed in imbuing her husband with her Christian +spirit. But when the judge's wife returned home and saw the keen +mental distress of the man who had been her companion for +twenty-five long years, the comforter in her sorrows, the joy and +pride of her young wifehood, she forgot all about her smug +churchly consoler, and her heart went out to her husband in a +spontaneous burst of genuine human sympathy. Yes, they must do +something at once. Where men had failed perhaps a woman could do +something. She wanted to cable at once for Shirley, who was +everything in their household—organizer, manager, +adviser—but the judge would not hear of it. No, his daughter +was enjoying her holiday in blissful ignorance of what had +occurred. He would not spoil it for her. They would see; perhaps +things would improve. But he sent for his old friend ex-Judge +Stott.</p> + +<p>They were life-long friends, having become acquainted +<a class="pagebreak" name="page130" id="page130" title="130"></a> +nearly thirty years ago at the law school, at the time when both +were young men about to enter on a public career. Stott, who was +Rossmore's junior, had begun as a lawyer in New York and soon +acquired a reputation in criminal practice. He afterwards became +assistant district attorney and later, when a vacancy occurred in +the city magistrature, he was successful in securing the +appointment. On the bench he again met his old friend Rossmore and +the two men once more became closely intimate. The regular court +hours, however, soon palled on a man of Judge Stott's nervous +temperament and it was not long before he retired to take up once +more his criminal practice. He was still a young man, not yet +fifty, and full of vigor and fight. He had a blunt manner but his +heart was in the right place, and he had a record as clean as his +close shaven face. He was a hard worker, a brilliant speaker and +one of the cleverest cross-examiners at the bar. This was the man +to whom Judge Rossmore naturally turned for legal assistance.</p> + +<p>Stott was out West when he first heard of the proceedings +against his old friend, and this indignity put upon the only +really honest man in public life whom he knew, so incensed him +that he was already hurrying back to his aid when the summons +reached him.</p> + +<p>Meantime, a fresh and more serious calamity had +<a class="pagebreak" name="page131" id="page131" title="131"></a> +overwhelmed Judge Rossmore. Everything seemed to combine to break +the spirit of this man who had dared defy the power of organized +capital. Hardly had the news of the Congressional inquiry been +made public, than the financial world was startled by an +extraordinary slump in Wall Street. There was nothing in the news +of the day to justify a decline, but prices fell and fell. The +bears had it all their own way, the big interests hammered stocks +all along the line, “coppers” especially being the +object of attack. The market closed feverishly and the next day +the same tactics were pursued. From the opening, on selling orders +coming from no one knew where, prices fell to nothing, a stampede +followed and before long it became a panic. Pandemonium reigned on +the floor of the Stock Exchange. White faced, dishevelled brokers +shouted and struggled like men possessed to execute the orders of +their clients. Big financial houses, which stood to lose millions +on a falling market, rallied and by rush orders to buy, attempted +to stem the tide, but all to no purpose. One firm after another +went by the board unable to weather the tempest, until just before +closing time, the stock ticker announced the failure of the Great +Northwestern Mining Co. The drive in the market had been +principally directed against its securities, and after vainly +endeavoring to +<a class="pagebreak" name="page132" id="page132" title="132"></a> +check the bear raid, it had been compelled to declare itself +bankrupt. It was heavily involved, assets nil, stock almost +worthless. It was probable that the creditors would not see ten +cents on the dollar. Thousands were ruined and Judge Rossmore +among them. All the savings of a lifetime—nearly $55,000 +were gone. He was practically penniless, at a time when he needed +money most. He still owned his house in Madison Avenue, but that +would have to go to settle with his creditors. By the time +everything was paid there would only remain enough for a modest +competence. As to his salary, of course he could not touch that +so long as this accusation was hanging over his head. And if he +were impeached it would stop altogether. The salary, therefore, +was not to be counted on. They must manage as best they could and +live more cheaply, taking a small house somewhere in the outskirts +of the city where he could prepare his case quietly without +attracting attention.</p> + +<p>Stott thought this was the best thing they could do and he +volunteered to relieve his friend by taking on his own hands all +the arrangements of the sale of the house and furniture, which +offer the judge accepted only too gladly. Meantime, Mrs. Rossmore +went to Long Island to see what could be had, and she found at the +little village of Massapequa just what they were +<a class="pagebreak" name="page133" id="page133" title="133"></a> +looking for—a commodious, neatly-furnished two-story cottage +at a modest rental. Of course, it was nothing like what they had +been accustomed to, but it was clean and comfortable, and as Mrs. +Rossmore said, rather tactlessly, beggars cannot be choosers. +Perhaps it would not be for long. Instant possession was to be +had, so deposit was paid on the spot and a few days later the +Rossmores left their mansion on Madison Avenue and took up their +residence in Massapequa, where their advent created quite a +fluster in local social circles.</p> + +<p>Massapequa is one of the thousand and one flourishing +communities scattered over Long Island, all of which are +apparently modelled after the same pattern. Each is an exact +duplicate of its neighbour in everything except the name—the +same untidy railroad station, the same sleepy stores, the same +attractive little frame residences, built for the most part on the +“Why pay Rent? Own your own Home” plan. A healthy boom +in real estate imparts plenty of life to them all and Massapequa +is particularly famed as being the place where the cat jumped to +when Manhattan had to seek an outlet for its congested population +and ever-increasing army of home seekers. Formerly large tracts of +flat farm lands, only sparsely shaded by trees, Massapequa, in +common with other villages of its kind, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page134" id="page134" title="134"></a> +was utterly destitute of any natural attractions. There was the +one principal street leading to the station, with a few scattered +stores on either side, a church and a bank. Happily, too, for +those who were unable to survive the monotony of the place, it +boasted of a pretty cemetery. There were also a number of +attractive cottages with spacious porches hung with honeysuckle +and of these the Rossmores occupied one of the less pretentious +kind.</p> + +<p>But although Massapequa, theoretically speaking, was situated +only a stone's throw from the metropolis, it might have been +situated in the Great Sahara so far as its inhabitants took any +active interest in the doings of gay Gotham. Local happenings +naturally had first claim upon Massapequa's attention—the +prowess of the local baseball team, Mrs. Robinson's tea party and +the highly exciting sessions of the local Pinochle Club furnishing +food for unlimited gossip and scandal. The newspapers reached the +village, of course, but only the local news items aroused any real +interest, while the women folk usually restricted their readings +to those pages devoted to Daily Hints for the Home, Mrs. Sayre's +learned articles on Health and Beauty and Fay Stanton's Daily +Fashions. It was not surprising, therefore, that the fame of Judge +Rossmore and the scandal in which he was at present involved had +not +<a class="pagebreak" name="page135" id="page135" title="135"></a> +penetrated as far as Massapequa and that the natives were +considerably mystified as to who the new arrivals in their midst +might be.</p> + +<p>Stott had been given a room in the cottage so that he might be +near at hand to work with the judge in the preparation of the +defence, and he came out from the city every evening. It was now +June. The Senate would not take action until it convened in +December, but there was a lot of work to be done and no time to be +lost.</p> + +<p>The evening following the day of their arrival they were +sitting on the porch enjoying the cool evening air after dinner. +The judge was smoking. He was not a slave to the weed, but he +enjoyed a quiet pipe after meals, claiming that it quieted his +nerves and enabled him to think more clearly. Besides, it was +necessary to keep at bay the ubiquitous Long Island mosquito. Mrs. +Rossmore had remained for a moment in the dining-room to admonish +Eudoxia, their new and only maid-of-all-work, not to wreck too +much of the crockery when she removed the dinner dishes. Suddenly +Stott, who was perusing an evening paper, asked:</p> + +<p>“By the way, where's your daughter? Does she know of this +radical change in your affairs?”</p> + +<p>Judge Rossmore started. By what mysterious +<a class="pagebreak" name="page136" id="page136" title="136"></a> +agency had this man penetrated his own most intimate thoughts? He +was himself thinking of Shirley that very moment, and by some +inexplicable means—telepathy modern psychologists called +it—the thought current had crossed to Stott, whose mind, +being in full sympathy, was exactly attuned to receive it. +Removing the pipe from his mouth the judge replied:</p> + +<p>“Shirley's in Paris. Poor girl, I hadn't the heart to +tell her. She has no idea of what's happened. I didn't want to +spoil her holiday.”</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment. Then, after a few more puffs he +added confidentially in a low tone, as if he did not care for his +wife to hear:</p> + +<p>“The truth is, Stott, I couldn't bear to have her return +now. I couldn't look my own daughter in the face.”</p> + +<p>A sound as of a great sob which he had been unable to control +cut short his speech. His eyes filled with tears and he began to +smoke furiously as if ashamed of this display of emotion. Stott, +blowing his nose with suspicious vigor, replied soothingly:</p> + +<p>“You mustn't talk like that. Everything will come out all +right, of course. But I think you are wrong not to have told your +daughter. Her place is here at your side. She ought to be told +even if only in justice +<a class="pagebreak" name="page137" id="page137" title="137"></a> +to her. If you don't tell her someone else will, or, what's worse, +she'll hear of it through the newspapers.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, I never thought of that!” exclaimed the judge, +visibly perturbed at the suggestion about the newspapers.</p> + +<p>“Don't you agree with me?” demanded Stott, +appealing to Mrs. Rossmore, who emerged from the house at that +instant. “Don't you think your daughter should be informed +of what has happened?”</p> + +<p>“Most assuredly I do,” answered Mrs. Rossmore +determinedly. “The judge wouldn't hear of it, but I took the +law into my own hands. I've cabled for her.”</p> + +<p>“You cabled for Shirley?” cried the judge +incredulously. He was so unaccustomed to seeing his ailing, +vacillating wife do anything on her own initiative and +responsibility that it seemed impossible. “You cabled for +Shirley?” he repeated.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Mrs. Rossmore triumphantly and +secretly pleased that for once in her life she had asserted +herself. “I cabled yesterday. I simply couldn't bear it +alone any longer.”</p> + +<p>“What did you say?” inquired the judge +apprehensively.</p> + +<p>“I just told her to come home at once. To-morrow; we +ought to get an answer.”</p> + +<p>Stott meantime had been figuring on the time of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page138" id="page138" title="138"></a> +Shirley's probable arrival. If the cablegram had been received in +Paris the previous evening it would be too late to catch the +French boat. The North German Lloyd steamer was the next to leave +and it touched at Cherbourg. She would undoubtedly come on that. +In a week at most she would be here. Then it became a question as +to who should go to meet her at the dock. The judge could not go, +that was certain. It would be too much of an ordeal. Mrs. Rossmore +did not know the lower part of the city well, and had no +experience in meeting ocean steamships. There was only one way +out—would Stott go? Of course he would and he would bring +Shirley back with him to Massapequa. So during the next few days +while Stott and the judge toiled preparing their case, which often +necessitated brief trips to the city, Mrs. Rossmore, seconded with +sulky indifference by Eudoxia, was kept busy getting a room ready +for her daughter's arrival.</p> + +<p>Eudoxia, who came originally from County Cork, was an Irish +lady with a thick brogue and a husky temper. She was amiable +enough so long as things went to her satisfaction, but when they +did not suit her she was a termagant. She was neither beautiful +nor graceful, she was not young nor was she very clean. Her usual +condition was dishevelled, her face was all askew, and when she +dressed up she looked like +<a class="pagebreak" name="page139" id="page139" title="139"></a> +a valentine. Her greatest weakness was a propensity for smashing +dishes, and when reprimanded she would threaten to take her traps +and skidoo. This news of the arrival of a daughter failed to fill +her with enthusiasm. Firstly, it meant more work; secondly she +had not bargained for it. When she took the place it was on the +understanding that the family consisted only of an elderly +gentleman and his wife, that there was practically no work, good +wages, plenty to eat, with the privilege of an evening out when +she pleased. Instead of this millennium she soon found Stott +installed as a permanent guest and now a daughter was to be +foisted on her. No wonder hard working girls were getting sick and +tired of housework!</p> + +<p>As already hinted there was no unhealthy curiosity among +Massapequans regarding their new neighbors from the city but some +of the more prominent people of the place considered it their duty +to seek at least a bowing acquaintance with the Rossmores by +paying them a formal visit. So the day following the conversation +on the porch when the judge and Stott had gone to the city on one +of their periodical excursions, Mrs. Rossmore was startled to see +a gentleman of clerical appearance accompanied by a tall, angular +woman enter their gate and ring the bell.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Percival Pontifex Deetle and his sister +<a class="pagebreak" name="page140" id="page140" title="140"></a> +Miss Jane Deetle prided themselves on being leaders in the best +social circle in Massapequa. The incumbent of the local +Presbyterian church, the Rev. Deetle, was a thin, sallow man of +about thirty-five. He had a diminutive face with a rather long and +very pointed nose which gave a comical effect to his physiognomy. +Theology was written all over his person and he wore the +conventional clerical hat which, owing to his absurdly small face, +had the unfortunate appearance of being several sizes too large +for him. Miss Deetle was a gaunt and angular spinster who had an +unhappy trick of talking with a jerk. She looked as if she were +constantly under self-restraint and was liable at any moment to +explode into a fit of rage and only repressed herself with +considerable effort. As they came up the stoop, Eudoxia, already +instructed by Mrs. Rossmore, was ready for them. With her +instinctive respect for the priestly garb she was rather taken +back on seeing a clergyman, but she brazened it out:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rossmore's not home.” Then shaking her head, +she added: “They don't see no visitors.”</p> + +<p>Unabashed, the Rev. Deetle drew a card from a case and handing +it to the girl said pompously:</p> + +<p>“Then we will see Mrs. Rossmore. I saw her at the window +as we came along. Here, my girl, take her this card. Tell her that +the Reverend Pontifex +<a class="pagebreak" name="page141" id="page141" title="141"></a> +Deetle and Miss Deetle have called to present their +compliments.”</p> + +<p>Brushing past Eudoxia, who vainly tried to close the door, the +Rev. Deetle coolly entered the house, followed by his sister, and +took a seat in the parlour.</p> + +<p>“She'll blame me for this,” wailed the girl, who +had not budged and who stood there fingering the Rev. Deetle's +card.</p> + +<p>“Blame you? For what?” demanded the clerical +visitor in surprise.</p> + +<p>“She told me to say she was out—but I can't lie to +a minister of the Gospel—leastways not to his face. I'll +give her your card, sir.”</p> + +<p>The reverend caller waited until Eudoxia had disappeared, then +he rose and looked around curiously at the books and pictures.</p> + +<p>“Hum—not a Bible or a prayer book or a hymn book, +not a picture or anything that would indicate the slightest +reverence for holy things.”</p> + +<p>He picked up a few papers that were lying on the table and +after glancing at them threw them down in disgust.</p> + +<p>“Law reports—Wall Street reports—the god of +this world. Evidently very ordinary people, Jane.”</p> + +<p>He looked at his sister, but she sat stiffly and primly in her +chair and made no reply. He repeated:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page142" id="page142" title="142"></a> +<p>“Didn't you hear me? I said they are ordinary +people.”</p> + +<p>“I've no doubt,” retorted Miss Deetle, “and +as such they will not thank us for prying into their +affairs.”</p> + +<p>“Prying, did you say?” said the parson, resenting +this implied criticism of his actions.</p> + +<p>“Just plain prying,” persisted his sister angrily. +“I don't see what else it is.”</p> + +<p>The Rev. Pontifex straightened up and threw out his chest as he +replied:</p> + +<p>“It is protecting my flock. As Leader of the Unified All +Souls Baptismal Presbytery, it is my duty to visit the widows and +orphans of this community.”</p> + +<p>“These people are neither widows or orphans,” +objected Miss Deetle.</p> + +<p>“They are strangers,” insisted the Rev. Pontifex, +“and it is my duty to minister to them—if they need +it. Furthermore it is my duty to my congregation to find out who +is in their midst. No less than three of the Lady Trustees of my +church have asked me who and what these people are and whence they +came.”</p> + +<p>“The Lady Trustees are a pack of old busybodies,” +growled his sister.</p> + +<p>Her brother raised his finger warningly.</p> + +<p>“Jane, do you know you are uttering a blasphemy? These +Rossmore people have been here two weeks. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page143" id="page143" title="143"></a> +They have visited no one, no one visits them. They have avoided a +temple of worship, they have acted most mysteriously. Who are +they? What are they hiding? Is it fair to my church, is it fair to +my flock? It is not a bereavement, for they don't wear mourning. +I'm afraid it may be some hidden scandal—”</p> + +<p>Further speculations on his part were interrupted by the +entrance of Mrs. Rossmore, who thought rightly that the quickest +way to get rid of her unwelcome visitors was to hurry downstairs +as quickly as possible.</p> + +<p>“Miss Deetle—Mr. Deetle. I am much honoured,” +was her not too effusive greeting.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Pontifex, anxious to make a favourable impression, +was all smiles and bows. The idea of a possible scandal had for +the moment ceased to worry him.</p> + +<p>“The honour is ours,” he stammered. +“I—er—we—er—my sister Jane and I +called to—”</p> + +<p>“Won't you sit down?” said Mrs. Rossmore, waving +him to a chair. He danced around her in a manner that made her +nervous.</p> + +<p>“Thank you so much,” he said with a smile that was +meant to be amiable. He took a seat at the further end of the room +and an awkward pause followed. Finally his sister prompted +him:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page144" id="page144" title="144"></a> +<p>“You wanted to see Mrs. Rossmore about the +festival,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course, I had quite forgotten. How stupid of me. +The fact is, Mrs. Rossmore,” he went on, “we are +thinking of giving a festival next week—a festival with +strawberries—and our trustees thought, in fact it occurred +to me also that if you and Mr. Rossmore would grace the occasion +with your presence it would give us an opportunity—so to +speak—get better acquainted, and er—”</p> + +<p>Another awkward pause followed during which he sought +inspiration by gazing fixedly in the fireplace. Then turning on +Mrs. Rossmore so suddenly that the poor woman nearly jumped out of +her chair he asked:</p> + +<p>“Do you like strawberries?”</p> + +<p>“It's very kind of you,” interrupted Mrs. Rossmore, +glad of the opportunity to get a word in edgeways. “Indeed, +I appreciate your kindness most keenly but my husband and I go +nowhere, nowhere at all. You see we have met with reverses +and—”</p> + +<p>“Reverses,” echoed the clerical visitor, with +difficulty keeping his seat. This was the very thing he had come +to find out and here it was actually thrown at him. He +congratulated himself on his cleverness in having inspired so much +confidence and thought with glee of his triumph when he returned +with the full +<a class="pagebreak" name="page145" id="page145" title="145"></a> +story to the Lady Trustees. Simulating, therefore, the deepest +sympathy he tried to draw his hostess out:</p> + +<p>“Dear me, how sad! You met with reverses.”</p> + +<p>Turning to his sister, who was sitting in her corner like a +petrified mummy, he added:</p> + +<p>“Jane, do you hear? How inexpressibly sad! They have met +with reverses!”</p> + +<p>He paused, hoping that Mrs. Rossmore would go on to explain +just what their reverses had been, but she was silent. As a gentle +hint he said softly:</p> + +<p>“Did I interrupt you, Madam?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, I did not speak,” she answered.</p> + +<p>Thus baffled, he turned the whites of his eyes up to the +ceiling and said:</p> + +<p>“When reverses come we naturally look for spiritual +consolation. My dear Mrs. Rossmore, in the name of the Unified All +Souls Baptismal Presbytery I offer you that +consolation.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rossmore looked helplessly from one to the other +embarrassed as to what to say. Who were these strangers that +intruded on her privacy offering a consolation she did not want? +Miss Deetle, as if glad of the opportunity to joke at her +brother's expense, said explosively:</p> + +<p>“My dear Pontifex, you have already offered a +<a class="pagebreak" name="page146" id="page146" title="146"></a> +strawberry festival which Mrs. Rossmore has been unable to +accept.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what of it?” demanded Mr. Deetle, glaring at +his sister for the irrelevant interruption.</p> + +<p>“You are both most kind,” murmured Mrs. Rossmore; +“but we could not accept in any case. My daughter is +returning home from Paris next week.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, your daughter—you have a daughter?” +exclaimed Mr. Deetle, grasping at the slightest straw to add to +his stock of information. “Coming from Paris, too! Such a +wicked city!”</p> + +<p>He had never been to Paris, he went on to explain, but he had +read enough about it and he was grateful that the Lord had chosen +Massapequa as the field of his labours. Here at least, life was +sweet and wholesome and one's hopes of future salvation fairly +reasonable. He was not a brilliant talker when the conversation +extended beyond Massapequa but he rambled on airing his views on +the viciousness of the foreigner in general, until Mrs. Rossmore, +utterly wearied, began to wonder when they would go. Finally he +fell back upon the weather.</p> + +<p>“We are very fortunate in having such pleasant weather, +don't you think so, Madam? Oh, Massapequa is a lovely spot, isn't +it? We think it's the one place +<a class="pagebreak" name="page147" id="page147" title="147"></a> +to live in. We are all one happy family. That's why my sister and +I called to make your acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“You are very good, I'm sure. I shall tell my husband you +came and he'll be very pleased.”</p> + +<p>Having exhausted his conversational powers and seeing that +further efforts to pump Mrs. Rossmore were useless, the clerical +visitor rose to depart:</p> + +<p>“It looks like rain. Come, Jane, we had better go. +Good-bye, Madam, I am delighted to have made this little visit and +I trust you will assure Mr. Rossmore that All Souls Unified +Baptismal Presbytery always has a warm welcome for him.”</p> + +<p>They bowed and Mrs. Rossmore bowed. The agony was over and as +the door closed on them Mrs. Rossmore gave a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>That evening Stott and the judge came home earlier than usual +and from their dejected appearance Mrs. Rossmore divined bad +news. The judge was painfully silent throughout the meal and Stott +was unusually grave. Finally the latter took her aside and broke +it to her gently. In spite of their efforts and the efforts of +their friends the Congressional inquiry had resulted in a finding +against the judge and a demand had already been made upon the +Senate for his impeachment. They could do nothing now but fight +it in the Senate with all the influence they could muster. It was +going +<a class="pagebreak" name="page148" id="page148" title="148"></a> +to be hard but Stott was confident that right would prevail. After +dinner as they were sitting in silence on the porch, each +measuring the force of this blow which they had expected yet had +always hoped to ward off, the crunching sound of a bicycle was +heard on the quiet country road. The rider stopped at their gate +and came up the porch holding out an envelope to the judge, who, +guessing the contents, had started forward. He tore it open. It +was a cablegram from Paris and read as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><i>Am sailing on the Kaiser Wilhelm to-day.</i></blockquote> +<blockquote class="signature"><i>Shirley.</i></blockquote> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page149" id="page149" title="149"></a> +<a name="chapter7" id="chapter7"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p>The pier of the North German Lloyd Steamship Company, at +Hoboken, fairly sizzled with bustle and excitement. The Kaiser +Wilhelm had arrived at Sandy Hook the previous evening and was now +lying out in midstream. She would tie up at her dock within half +an hour. Employés of the line, baggage masters, newspaper +reporters, Custom House officers, policemen, detectives, truck +drivers, expressmen, longshoremen, telegraph messengers and +anxious friends of incoming passengers surged back and forth in +seemingly hopeless confusion. The shouting of orders, the rattling +of cab wheels, the shrieking of whistles was deafening. From out +in the river came the deep toned blasts of the steamer's siren, in +grotesque contrast with the strident tooting of a dozen diminutive +tugs which, puffing and snorting, were slowly but surely coaxing +the leviathan into her berth alongside the dock. The great vessel, +spick and span after a coat of fresh paint hurriedly put on during +the last day of the voyage, bore no traces of gale, fog and stormy +seas through which she had passed on her +<a class="pagebreak" name="page150" id="page150" title="150"></a> +3,000 mile run across the ocean. Conspicuous on the bridge, +directing the docking operations, stood Capt. Hegermann, self +satisfied and smiling, relieved that the responsibilities of +another trip were over, and at his side, sharing the honours, was +the grizzled pilot who had brought the ship safely through the +dangers of Gedney's Channel, his shabby pea jacket, old slouch +hat, top boots and unkempt beard standing out in sharp contrast +with the immaculate white duck trousers, the white and gold caps +and smart full dress uniforms of the ship's officers. The rails on +the upper decks were seen to be lined with passengers, all dressed +in their shore going clothes, some waving handkerchiefs at friends +they already recognized, all impatiently awaiting the shipping of +the gangplank.</p> + +<p>Stott had come early. They had received word at Massapequa the +day before that the steamer had been sighted off Fire Island and +that she would be at her pier the next morning at 10 o'clock. +Stott arrived at 9.30 and so found no difficulty in securing a +front position among the small army of people, who, like himself, +had come down to meet friends.</p> + +<p>As the huge vessel swung round and drew closer, Stott easily +picked out Shirley. She was scanning eagerly through a binocular +the rows of upturned faces on the dock, and he noted that a look +of disappointment +<a class="pagebreak" name="page151" id="page151" title="151"></a> +crossed her face at not finding the object of her search. She +turned and said something to a lady in black and to a man who +stood at her side. Who they might be Stott had no idea. Fellow +passengers, no doubt. One becomes so intimate on shipboard; it +seems a friendship that must surely last a lifetime, +whereas—the custom officers have not finished rummaging +through your trunks when these easily-made steamer friends are +already forgotten. Presently Shirley took another look and her +glass soon lighted on him. Instantly she recognized her father's +old friend. She waved a handkerchief and Stott raised his hat. +Then she turned quickly and spoke again to her friends, whereupon +they all moved in the direction of the gangplank, which was +already being lowered.</p> + +<p>Shirley was one of the first to come ashore. Stott was waiting +for her at the foot of the gangplank and she threw her arms round +his neck and kissed him. He had known her ever since she was a +little tot in arms, and bystanders who noticed them meet had no +doubt that they were father and daughter. Shirley was deeply +moved; a great lump in her throat seemed to choke her utterance. +So far she had been able to bear up, but now that home was so near +her heart failed her. She had hoped to find her father on the +dock. Why had he not come? Were things so bad +<a class="pagebreak" name="page152" id="page152" title="152"></a> +then? She questioned Judge Stott anxiously, fearfully.</p> + +<p>He reassured her. Both her mother and father were well. It was +too long a trip for them to make, so he had volunteered.</p> + +<p>“Too long a trip,” echoed Shirley puzzled. +“This is not far from our house. Madison Avenue is no +distance. That could not have kept father away.”</p> + +<p>“You don't live on Madison Avenue any longer. The house +and its contents have been sold,” replied Stott gravely, and +in a few words he outlined the situation as it was.</p> + +<p>Shirley listened quietly to the end and only the increasing +pallor of her face and an occasional nervous twitching at the +corner of her mouth betrayed the shock that this recital of her +father's misfortunes was to her. Ah, this she had little dreamed +of! Yet why not? It was but logic. When wrecked in reputation, one +might as well be wrecked in fortune, too. What would their future +be, how could that proud, sensitive man her father bear this +humiliation, this disgrace? To be condemned to a life of +obscurity, social ostracism, and genteel poverty! Oh, the thought +was unendurable! She herself could earn money, of course. If her +literary work did not bring in enough, she could teach and what +she earned would help out. Certainly her parents should never +want for anything +<a class="pagebreak" name="page153" id="page153" title="153"></a> +so long as she could supply it. She thought bitterly how futile +now were plans of marriage, even if she had ever entertained such +an idea seriously. Henceforward, she did not belong to herself. +Her life must be devoted to clearing her father's name. These +reflections were suddenly interrupted by the voice of Mrs. Blake +calling out:</p> + +<p>“Shirley, where have you been? We lost sight of you as we +left the ship, and we have been hunting for you ever +since.”</p> + +<p>Her aunt, escorted by Jefferson Ryder, had gone direct to the +Customs desk and in the crush they had lost trace of her. Shirley +introduced Stott.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Milly, this is Judge Stott, a very old friend of +father's. Mrs. Blake, my mother's sister. Mother will be surprised +to see her. They haven't met for ten years.”</p> + +<p>“This visit is going to be only a brief one,” said +Mrs. Blake. “I really came over to chaperone Shirley more +than anything else.”</p> + +<p>“As if I needed chaperoning with Mr. Ryder for an +escort!” retorted Shirley. Then presenting Jefferson to +Stott she said:</p> + +<p>“This is Mr. Jefferson Ryder—Judge Stott. Mr. +Ryder has been very kind to me abroad.”</p> + +<p>The two men bowed and shook hands.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page154" id="page154" title="154"></a> +<p>“Any relation to J.B.?” asked Stott good +humouredly.</p> + +<p>“His son—that's all,” answered Jefferson +laconically.</p> + +<p>Stott now looked at the young man with more interest. Yes, +there was a resemblance, the same blue eyes, the righting jaw. But +how on earth did Judge Rossmore's daughter come to be travelling +in the company of John Burkett Ryder's son? The more he thought of +it the more it puzzled him, and while he cogitated Shirley and her +companions wrestled with the United States Customs, and were +undergoing all the tortures invented by Uncle Sam to punish +Americans for going abroad.</p> + +<p>Shirley and Mrs. Blake were fortunate in securing an inspector +who was fairly reasonable. Of course, he did not for a moment +believe their solemn statement, already made on the ship, that +they had nothing dutiable, and he rummaged among the most intimate +garments of their wardrobe in a wholly indecent and unjustifiable +manner, but he was polite and they fared no worse than all the +other women victims of this, the most brutal custom house +inspection system in the world.</p> + +<p>Jefferson had the misfortune to be allotted an inspector who +was half seas over with liquor and the man +<a class="pagebreak" name="page155" id="page155" title="155"></a> +was so insolent and threatening in manner that it was only by +great self-restraint that Jefferson controlled himself. He had no +wish to create a scandal on the dock, nor to furnish good +“copy” for the keen-eyed, long-eared newspaper +reporters who would be only too glad of such an opportunity for a +“scare head,” But when the fellow compelled him to +open every trunk and valise and then put his grimy hands to the +bottom and by a quick upward movement jerked the entire contents +out on the dock he interfered:</p> + +<p>“You are exceeding your authority,” he exclaimed +hotly. “How dare you treat my things in this +manner?”</p> + +<p>The drunken uniformed brute raised his bloodshot, bleary eyes +and took Jefferson in from tip to toe. He clenched his fist as if +about to resort to violence, but he was not so intoxicated as to +be quite blind to the fact that this passenger had massive square +shoulders, a determined jaw and probably a heavy arm. So +contenting himself with a sneer, he said:</p> + +<p>“This ain't no country for blooming English dooks. +You're not in England now you know. This is a free country. +See?”</p> + +<p>“I see this,” replied Jefferson, furious +“that you +<a class="pagebreak" name="page156" id="page156" title="156"></a> +are a drunken ruffian and a disgrace to the uniform you wear. I +shall report your conduct immediately,” with which he +proceeded to the Customs desk to lodge a complaint.</p> + +<p>He might have spared himself the trouble. The silver haired, +distinguished looking old officer in charge knew that Jefferson's +complaint was well founded, he knew that this particular inspector +was a drunkard and a discredit to the government which employed +him, but at the same time he also knew that political influence +had been behind his appointment and that it was unsafe to do more +than mildly reprimand him. When, therefore, he accompanied +Jefferson to the spot where the contents of the trunks lay +scattered in confusion all over the dock, he merely expostulated +with the officer, who made some insolent reply. Seeing that it was +useless to lose further time, Jefferson repacked his trunks as +best he could and got them on a cab. Then he hurried over to +Shirley's party and found them already about to leave the +pier.</p> + +<p>“Come and see us, Jeff,” whispered Shirley as their +cab drove through the gates.</p> + +<p>“Where,” he asked, “Madison +Avenue?”</p> + +<p>She hesitated for a moment and then replied quickly:</p> + +<p>“No, we are stopping down on Long Island for the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page157" id="page157" title="157"></a> +Summer—at a cute little place called Massapequa. Run down +and see us.”</p> + +<p>He raised his hat and the cab drove on.</p> + +<br /> + +<p>There was greater activity in the Rossmore cottage at +Massapequa than there had been any day since the judge and his +wife went to live there. Since daybreak Eudoxia had been scouring +and polishing in honour of the expected arrival and a hundred +times Mrs. Rossmore had climbed the stairs to see that everything +was as it should be in the room which had been prepared for +Shirley. It was not, however, without a passage at arms that +Eudoxia consented to consider the idea of an addition to the +family. Mrs. Rossmore had said to her the day before:</p> + +<p>“My daughter will be here to-morrow, Eudoxia.”</p> + +<p>A look expressive of both displeasure and astonishment marred +the classic features of the hireling. Putting her broom aside and +placing her arms akimbo she exclaimed in an injured tone:</p> + +<p>“And it's a dayther you've got now? So it's three in +family you are! When I took the place it's two you tould me there +was!”</p> + +<p>“Well, with your kind permission,” replied Mrs. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page158" id="page158" title="158"></a> +Rossmore, “there will be three in future. There is nothing +in the Constitution of the United States that says we can't have a +daughter without consulting our help, is there?”</p> + +<p>The sarcasm of this reply did not escape even the dull-edged +wits of the Irish drudge. She relapsed into a dignified silence +and a few minutes later was discovered working with some show of +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>The judge was nervous and fidgety. He made a pretence to read, +but it was plain to see that his mind was not on his book. He kept +leaving his chair to go and look at the clock; then he would lay +the volume aside and wander from room to room like a lost soul. +His thoughts were on the dock at Hoboken.</p> + +<p>By noon every little detail had been attended to and there was +nothing further to do but sit and wait for the arrival of Stott +and Shirley. They were to be expected any moment now. The +passengers had probably got off the steamer by eleven o'clock. It +would take at least two hours to get through the Customs and out +to Massapequa. The judge and his wife sat on the porch counting +the minutes and straining their ears to catch the first sound of +the train from New York.</p> + +<p>“I hope Stott broke the news to her gently,” said +the judge.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page159" id="page159" title="159"></a> +<p>“I wish we had gone to meet her ourselves,” sighed +his wife.</p> + +<p>The judge was silent and for a moment or two he puffed +vigorously at his pipe, as was his habit when disturbed mentally. +Then he said:</p> + +<p>“I ought to have gone, Martha, but I was afraid. I'm +afraid to look my own daughter in the face and tell her that I am +a disgraced man, that I am to be tried by the Senate for +corruption, perhaps impeached and turned off the bench as if I +were a criminal. Shirley won't believe it, sometimes I can't +believe it myself. I often wake up in the night and think of it +as part of a dream, but when the morning comes it's still +true—it's still true!”</p> + +<p>He smoked on in silence. Then happening to look up he noticed +that his wife was weeping. He laid his hand gently on hers.</p> + +<p>“Don't cry, dear, don't make it harder for me to bear. +Shirley must see no trace of tears.”</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of the injustice of it all,” +replied Mrs. Rossmore, wiping her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Fancy Shirley in this place, living from hand to +mouth,” went on the judge.</p> + +<p>“That's the least,” answered his wife. “She's +a fine, handsome girl, well educated and all the rest of it. She +ought to make a good marriage.” No matter what +<a class="pagebreak" name="page160" id="page160" title="160"></a> +state of mind Mrs. Rossmore might be in, she never lost sight of +the practical side of things.</p> + +<p>“Hardly with her father's disgrace hanging over her +head,” replied the judge wearily. “Who,” he +added, “would have the courage to marry a girl whose father +was publicly disgraced?”</p> + +<p>Both relapsed into another long silence, each mentally +reviewing the past and speculating on the future. Suddenly Mrs. +Rossmore started. Surely she could not be mistaken! No, the +clanging of a locomotive bell was plainly audible. The train was +in. From the direction of the station came people with parcels and +hand bags and presently there was heard the welcome sound of +carriage wheels crunching over the stones. A moment later they +saw coming round the bend in the road a cab piled up with small +baggage.</p> + +<p>“Here they are! Here they are!” cried Mrs. +Rossmore. “Come, Eudoxia!” she called to the servant, +while she herself hurried down to the gate. The judge, fully as +agitated as herself, only showing his emotion in a different way, +remained on the porch pale and anxious.</p> + +<p>The cab stopped at the curb and Stott alighted, first helping +out Mrs. Blake. Mrs. Rossmore's astonishment on seeing her sister +was almost comical.</p> + +<p>“Milly!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page161" id="page161" title="161"></a> +<p>They embraced first and explained afterwards. Then Shirley got +out and was in her mother's arms.</p> + +<p>“Where's father?” was Shirley's first question.</p> + +<p>“There—he's coming!”</p> + +<p>The judge, unable to restrain his impatience longer, ran down +from the porch towards the gate. Shirley, with a cry of mingled +grief and joy, precipitated herself on his breast.</p> + +<p>“Father! Father!” she cried between her sobs. +“What have they done to you?”</p> + +<p>“There—there, my child. Everything will be +well—everything will be well.”</p> + +<p>Her head lay on his shoulder and he stroked her hair with his +hand, unable to speak from pent up emotion.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rossmore could not recover from her stupefaction on seeing +her sister. Mrs. Blake explained that she had come chiefly for the +benefit of the voyage and announced her intention of returning on +the same steamer.</p> + +<p>“So you see I shall bother you only a few days,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“You'll stay just as long as you wish,” rejoined +Mrs. Rossmore. “Happily we have just one bedroom +left.” Then turning to Eudoxia, who was wrestling +<a class="pagebreak" name="page162" id="page162" title="162"></a> +with the baggage, which formed a miniature Matterhorn on the +sidewalk, she gave instructions:</p> + +<p>“Eudoxia, you'll take this lady's baggage to the small +bedroom adjoining Miss Shirley's. She is going to stop with us for +a few days.”</p> + +<p>Taken completely aback at the news of this new addition, +Eudoxia looked at first defiance. She seemed on the point of +handing in her resignation there and then. But evidently she +thought better of it, for, taking a cue from Mrs. Rossmore, she +asked in the sarcastic manner of her mistress:</p> + +<p>“Four is it now, M'm? I suppose the Constitootion of the +United States allows a family to be as big as one likes to make +it. It's hard on us girls, but if it's the law, it's all right, +M'm. The more the merrier!” With which broadside, she hung +the bags all over herself and staggered off to the house.</p> + +<p>Stott explained that the larger pieces and the trunks would +come later by express. Mrs. Rossmore took him aside while Mrs. +Blake joined Shirley and the judge.</p> + +<p>“Did you tell Shirley?” asked Mrs. Rossmore. +“How did she take it?”</p> + +<p>“She knows everything,” answered Stott, “and +takes it very sensibly. We shall find her of great +<a class="pagebreak" name="page163" id="page163" title="163"></a> +moral assistance in our coming fight in the Senate,” he +added confidently.</p> + +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<blockquote class="illustration"><a href="images/illus2.jpg"> +<img src="images/illus2.png" width="298" height="450" +alt="[Pencil illustration of Shirley embracing her father +at the gate of the cottage at Massapequa.]" /></a></blockquote> +<blockquote class="central">“Father! Father! What have they done to +you?”—<a href="#page161"><i>Page 161.</i></a></blockquote> + +<p>Realizing that the judge would like to be left alone with +Shirley, Mrs. Rossmore invited Mrs. Blake to go upstairs and see +the room she would have, while Stott said he would be glad of a +washup. When they had gone Shirley sidled up to her father in her +old familiar way.</p> + +<p>“I've just been longing to see you, father,” she +said. She turned to get a good look at him and noticing the lines +of care which had deepened during her absence she cried: +“Why, how you've changed! I can scarcely believe it's you. +Say something. Let me hear the sound of your voice, +father.”</p> + +<p>The judge tried to smile.</p> + +<p>“Why, my dear girl, I—”</p> + +<p>Shirley threw her arms round his neck.</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes, now I know it's you,” she cried.</p> + +<p>“Of course it is, Shirley, my dear girl. Of course it is. +Who else should it be?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but it isn't the same,” insisted Shirley. +“There is no ring to your voice. It sounds hollow and empty, +like an echo. And this place,” she added dolefully, +“this awful place—”</p> + +<p>She glanced around at the cracked ceilings, the cheaply papered +walls, the shabby furniture, and her +<a class="pagebreak" name="page164" id="page164" title="164"></a> +heart sank as she realized the extent of their misfortune. She +had come back prepared for the worst, to help win the fight for +her father's honour, but to have to struggle against sordid +poverty as well, to endure that humiliation in addition to +disgrace—ah, that was something she had not anticipated! She +changed colour and her voice faltered. Her father had been closely +watching for just such signs and he read her thoughts.</p> + +<p>“It's the best we can afford, Shirley,” he said +quietly. “The blow has been complete. I will tell you +everything. You shall judge for yourself. My enemies have done for +me at last.”</p> + +<p>“Your enemies?” cried Shirley eagerly. “Tell +me who they are so I may go to them.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, you shall know everything. But not now. You +are tired after your journey. To-morrow sometime Stott and I will +explain everything.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, father, as you wish,” said Shirley +gently. “After all,” she added in an effort to appear +cheerful, “what matter where we live so long as we have each +other?”</p> + +<p>She drew away to hide her tears and left the room on pretence +of inspecting the house. She looked into the dining-room and +kitchen and opened the cupboards, and when she returned there were +no visible signs of trouble in her face.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page165" id="page165" title="165"></a> +<p>“It's a cute little house, isn't it?” she said. +“I've always wanted a little place like this—all to +ourselves. Oh, if you only knew how tired I am of New York and +its great ugly houses, its retinue of servants and its domestic +and social responsibilities! We shall be able to live for +ourselves now, eh, father?”</p> + +<p>She spoke with a forced gaiety that might have deceived anyone +but the judge. He understood the motive of her sudden change in +manner and silently he blessed her for making his burden +lighter.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, it's not bad,” he said. “There's +not much room, though.”</p> + +<p>“There's quite enough,” she insisted. “Let me +see.” She began to count on her fingers. +“Upstairs—three rooms, eh? and above that three +more—”</p> + +<p>“No,” smiled the judge, “then comes the +roof?”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” she laughed, “how stupid of +me—a nice gable roof, a sloping roof that the rain runs off +beautifully. Oh, I can see that this is going to be awfully +jolly—just like camping out. You know how I love camping +out. And you have a piano, too.”</p> + +<p>She went over to the corner where stood one of those homely +instruments which hardly deserve to be dignified by the name +piano, with a cheap, gaudily painted case outside and a tin pan +effect inside, and which are usually to be found in the poorer +class of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page166" id="page166" title="166"></a> +country boarding houses. Shirley sat down and ran her fingers over +the keys, determined to like everything.</p> + +<p>“It's a little old,” was her comment, “but I +like these zither effects. It's just like the sixteenth century +spinet. I can see you and mother dancing a stately minuet,” +she smiled.</p> + +<p>“What's that about mother dancing?” demanded Mrs. +Rossmore, who at that instant entered the room. Shirley arose and +appealed to her:</p> + +<p>“Isn't it absurd, mother, when you come to think of it, +that anybody should accuse father of being corrupt and of having +forfeited the right to be judge? Isn't it still more absurd that +we should be helpless and dejected and unhappy because we are on +Long Island instead of Madison Avenue? Why should Manhattan Island +be a happier spot than Long Island? Why shouldn't we be happy +anywhere; we have each other. And we do need each other. We never +knew how much till to-day, did we? We must stand by each other +now. Father is going to clear his name of this preposterous charge +and we're going to help him, aren't we, mother? We're not helpless +just because we are women. We're going to work, mother and +I.”</p> + +<p>“Work?” echoed Mrs. Rossmore, somewhat +scandalized.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page167" id="page167" title="167"></a> +<p>“Work,” repeated Shirley very decisively.</p> + +<p>The judge interfered. He would not hear of it.</p> + +<p>“You work, Shirley? Impossible!”</p> + +<p>“Why not? My book has been selling well while I was +abroad. I shall probably write others. Then I shall write, too, +for the newspapers and magazines. It will add to our +income.”</p> + +<p>“Your book—‘The American Octopus,’ is +selling well?” inquired the judge, interested.</p> + +<p>“So well,” replied Shirley, “that the +publishers wrote me in Paris that the fourth edition was now on +the press. That means good royalties. I shall soon be a +fashionable author. The publishers will be after me for more books +and we'll have all the money we want. Oh, it is so delightful, +this novel sensation of a literary success!” she exclaimed +with glee. “Aren't you proud of me, dad?”</p> + +<p>The judge smiled indulgently. Of course he was glad and proud. +He always knew his Shirley was a clever girl. But by what strange +fatality, he thought to himself, had his daughter in this book of +hers assailed the very man who had encompassed his own ruin? It +seemed like the retribution of heaven. Neither his daughter nor +the financier was conscious of the fact that each was indirectly +connected with the impeachment proceedings. Ryder could not dream +that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page168" id="page168" title="168"></a> +“Shirley Green,” the author of the book which flayed +him so mercilessly, was the daughter of the man he was trying to +crush. Shirley, on the other hand, was still unaware of the fact +that it was Ryder who had lured her father to his ruin.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rossmore now insisted on Shirley going to her room to +rest. She must be tired and dusty. After changing her travelling +dress she would feel refreshed and more comfortable. When she was +ready to come down again luncheon would be served. So leaving the +judge to his papers, mother and daughter went upstairs together, +and with due maternal pride Mrs. Rossmore pointed out to Shirley +all the little arrangements she had made for her comfort. Then she +left her daughter to herself while she hurried downstairs to look +after Eudoxia and luncheon.</p> + +<p>When, at last, she could lock herself in her room where no eye +could see her, Shirley threw herself down on the bed and burst +into a torrent of tears. She had kept up appearances as long as it +was possible, but now the reaction had set in. She gave way freely +to her pent up feelings, she felt that unless she could relieve +herself in this way her heart would break. She had been brave +until now, she had been strong to hear everything and see +everything, but she could not keep it up forever. Stott's words to +her on the dock had in +<a class="pagebreak" name="page169" id="page169" title="169"></a> +part prepared her for the worst, he had told her what to expect at +home, but the realization was so much more vivid. While hundreds +of miles of ocean still lay between, it had all seemed less real, +almost attractive as a romance in modern life, but now she was +face to face with the grim reality—this shabby cottage, +cheap neighbourhood and commonplace surroundings, her mother's air +of resignation to the inevitable, her father's pale, drawn face +telling so eloquently of the keen mental anguish through which he +had passed. She compared this pitiful spectacle with what they +had been when she left for Europe, the fine mansion on Madison +Avenue with its rich furnishings and well-trained servants, and +her father's proud aristocratic face illumined with the +consciousness of his high rank in the community, and the attention +he attracted every time he appeared on the street or in public +places as one of the most brilliant and most respected judges on +the bench. Then to have come to this all in the brief space of a +few months! It was incredible, terrible, heart rending! And what +of the future? What was to be done to save her father from this +impeachment which she knew well would hurry him to his grave? He +could not survive that humiliation, that degradation. He must be +saved in the Senate, but how—how?</p> + +<p>She dried her eyes and began to think. Surely her +<a class="pagebreak" name="page170" id="page170" title="170"></a> +woman's wit would find some way. She thought of Jefferson. Would +he come to Massapequa? It was hardly probable. He would certainly +learn of the change in their circumstances and his sense of +delicacy would naturally keep him away for some time even if other +considerations, less unselfish, did not. Perhaps he would be +attracted to some other girl he would like as well and who was not +burdened with a tragedy in her family. Her tears began to flow +afresh until she hated herself for being so weak while there was +work to be done to save her father. She loved Jefferson. Yes, she +had never felt so sure of it as now. She felt that if she had him +there at that moment she would throw herself in his arms crying: +“Take me, Jefferson, take me away, where you will, for I +love you! I love you!” But Jefferson was not there and the +rickety chairs in the tiny bedroom and the cheap prints on the +walls seemed to jibe at her in her misery. If he were there, she +thought as she looked into a cracked mirror, he would think her +very ugly with her eyes all red from crying. He would not marry +her now in any case. No self-respecting man would. She was glad +that she had spoken to him as she had in regard to marriage, for +while a stain remained upon her father's name marriage was out of +the question. She might have yielded on the question of the +literary career, but +<a class="pagebreak" name="page171" id="page171" title="171"></a> +she would never allow a man to taunt her afterwards with the +disgrace of her own flesh and blood. No, henceforth her place was +at her father's side until his character was cleared. If the trial +in the Senate were to go against him, then she could never see +Jefferson again. She would give up all idea of him and everything +else. Her literary career would be ended, her life would be a +blank. They would have to go abroad, where they were not known, +and try and live down their shame, for no matter how innocent her +father might be the world would believe him guilty. Once condemned +by the Senate, nothing could remove the stigma. She would have to +teach in order to contribute towards the support, they would +manage somehow. But what a future, how unnecessary, how +unjust!</p> + +<p>Suddenly she thought of Jefferson's promise to interest his +father in their case and she clutched at the hope this promise +held out as a drowning man clutches at a drifting straw. Jefferson +would not forget his promise and he would come to Massapequa to +tell her of what he had done. She was sure of that. Perhaps, after +all, there was where their hope lay. Why had she not told her +father at once? It might have relieved his mind. John Burkett +Ryder, the Colossus, the man of unlimited power! He could save her +father and he would. And the more she thought about it, the more +<a class="pagebreak" name="page172" id="page172" title="172"></a> +cheerful and more hopeful she became, and she started to dress +quickly so that she might hurry down to tell her father the good +news. She was actually sorry now that she had said so many hard +things of Mr. Ryder in her book and she was worrying over the +thought that her father's case might be seriously prejudiced if +the identity of the author were ever revealed, when there came a +knock at her door. It was Eudoxia.</p> + +<p>“Please, miss, will you come down to lunch?”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page173" id="page173" title="173"></a> +<a name="chapter8" id="chapter8"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p>A whirling maelstrom of human activity and dynamic +energy—the city which above all others is characteristic of +the genius and virility of the American people—New York, +with its congested polyglot population and teeming millions, is +assuredly one of the busiest, as it is one of the most strenuous +and most noisy places on earth. Yet, despite its swarming streets +and crowded shops, ceaselessly thronged with men and women eagerly +hurrying here and there in the pursuit of business or elusive +pleasure, all chattering, laughing, shouting amid the deafening, +multisonous roar of traffic incidental to Gotham's daily life, +there is one part of the great metropolis where there is no +bustle, no noise, no crowd, where the streets are empty even in +daytime, where a passer-by is a curiosity and a child a +phenomenon. This deserted village in the very heart of the big +town is the millionaires' district, the boundaries of which are +marked by Carnegie hill on the north, Fiftieth Street on the +south, and by Fifth and Madison Avenues respectively on the west +and east. There is nothing more mournful than +<a class="pagebreak" name="page174" id="page174" title="174"></a> +the outward aspect of these princely residences which, abandoned +and empty for three-quarters of the year, stand in stately +loneliness, as if ashamed of their isolation and utter +uselessness. Their blinds drawn, affording no hint of life within, +enveloped the greater part of the time in the stillness and +silence of the tomb, they appear to be under the spell of some +baneful curse. No merry-voiced children romp in their carefully +railed off gardens, no sounds of conversation or laughter come +from their hermetically closed windows, not a soul goes in or out, +at most, at rare intervals, does one catch a glimpse of a +gorgeously arrayed servant gliding about in ghostly fashion, +supercilious and suspicious, and addressing the chance visitor in +awed whispers as though he were the guardian of a house of +affliction. It is, indeed, like a city of the dead.</p> + +<p>So it appeared to Jefferson as he walked up Fifth Avenue, bound +for the Ryder residence, the day following his arrival from +Europe. Although he still lived at his father's house, for at no +time had there been an open rupture, he often slept in his studio, +finding it more convenient for his work, and there he had gone +straight from the ship. He felt, however, that it was his duty to +see his mother as soon as possible; besides he was anxious to +fulfil his promise to Shirley and find what his father could do to +help Judge +<a class="pagebreak" name="page175" id="page175" title="175"></a> +Rossmore. He had talked about the case with several men the +previous evening at the club and the general impression seemed to +be that, guilty or innocent, the judge would be driven off the +bench. The “interests” had forced the matter as a +party issue, and the Republicans being in control in the Senate +the outcome could hardly be in doubt. He had learned also of the +other misfortunes which had befallen Judge Rossmore and he +understood now the reason for Shirley's grave face on the dock and +her little fib about summering on Long Island. The news had been a +shock to him, for, apart from the fact that the judge was +Shirley's father, he admired him immensely as a man. Of his +perfect innocence there could, of course, be no question: these +charges of bribery had simply been trumped up by his enemies to +get him off the bench. That was very evident. The +“interests” feared him and so had sacrificed him +without pity, and as Jefferson walked along Central Park, past the +rows of superb palaces which face its eastern wall, he wondered in +which particular mansion had been hatched this wicked, iniquitous +plot against a wholly blameless American citizen. Here, he +thought, were the citadels of the plutocrats, America's +aristocracy of money, the strongholds of her Coal, Railroad, Oil, +Gas and Ice barons, the castles of her monarchs of Steel, Copper, +and Finance. Each of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page176" id="page176" title="176"></a> +these million-dollar residences, he pondered, was filled from +cellar to roof with costly furnishings, masterpieces of painting +and sculpture, priceless art treasures of all kinds purchased in +every corner of the globe with the gold filched from a +Trust-ridden people. For every stone in those marble halls a human +being, other than the owner, had been sold into bondage, for each +of these magnificent edifices, which the plutocrat put up in his +pride only to occupy it two months in the year, ten thousand +American men, women and children had starved and sorrowed.</p> + +<p>Europe, thought Jefferson as he strode quickly along, pointed +with envy to America's unparalleled prosperity, spoke with bated +breath of her great fortunes. Rather should they say her gigantic +robberies, her colossal frauds! As a nation we were not proud of +our multi-millionaires. How many of them would bear the +searchlight of investigation? Would his own father? How many +millions could one man make by honest methods? America was +enjoying unprecedented prosperity, not because of her +millionaires, but in spite of them. The United States owed its +high rank in the family of nations to the country's vast natural +resources, its inexhaustible vitality, its great wheat fields, the +industrial and mechanical genius of its people. It was the plain +American citizen who had made the greatness +<a class="pagebreak" name="page177" id="page177" title="177"></a> +of America, not the millionaires who, forming a class by +themselves of unscrupulous capitalists, had created an arrogant +oligarchy which sought to rule the country by corrupting the +legislature and the judiciary. The plutocrats—these were the +leeches, the sores in the body politic. An organized band of +robbers, they had succeeded in dominating legislation and in +securing control of every branch of the nation's industry, +crushing mercilessly and illegally all competition. They were the +Money Power, and such a menace were they to the welfare of the +people that, it had been estimated, twenty men in America had it +in their power, by reason of the vast wealth which they +controlled, to come together, and within twenty-four hours arrive +at an understanding by which every wheel of trade and commerce +would be stopped from revolving, every avenue of trade blocked and +every electric key struck dumb. Those twenty men could paralyze +the whole country, for they controlled the circulation of the +currency and could create a panic whenever they might choose. It +was the rapaciousness and insatiable greed of these plutocrats +that had forced the toilers to combine for self-protection, +resulting in the organization of the Labor Unions which, in time, +became almost as tyrannical and unreasonable as the bosses. And +the breach between capital on the one hand and labour on the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page178" id="page178" title="178"></a> +other was widening daily, masters and servants snarling over wages +and hours, the quarrel ever increasing in bitterness and acrimony +until one day the extreme limit of patience would be reached and +industrial strikes would give place to bloody violence.</p> + +<p>Meantime the plutocrats, wholly careless of the significant +signs of the times and the growing irritation and resentment of +the people, continued their illegal practices, scoffing at public +opinion, snapping their fingers at the law, even going so far in +their insolence as to mock and jibe at the President of the United +States. Feeling secure in long immunity and actually protected in +their wrong doing by the courts—the legal machinery by its +very elaborateness defeating the ends of justice—the Trust +kings impudently defied the country and tried to impose their own +will upon the people. History had thus repeated itself. The armed +feudalism of the middle ages had been succeeded in twentieth +century America by the tyranny of capital.</p> + +<p>Yet, ruminated the young artist as he neared the Ryder +residence, the American people had but themselves to blame for +their present thralldom. Forty years before Abraham Lincoln had +warned the country when at the close of the war he saw that the +race for wealth was already making men and women money-mad. In +1864 he wrote these words:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page179" id="page179" title="179"></a> +<p>“Yes, we may congratulate ourselves that this cruel war +is nearing its close. It has cost a vast amount of treasure and +blood. The best blood of the flower of American youth has been +freely offered upon our country's altar that the nation might +live. It has been indeed a trying hour for the Republic, but I see +in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me and +causes me to tremble for the safety of my country. As a result of +the war, corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption +in high places will follow and the money power of the country will +endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of +the people until all the wealth is aggregated in a few hands and +the Republic is destroyed.”</p> + +<p>Truly prophetic these solemn words were to-day. Forgetting the +austere simplicity of their forebears, a love of show and +ostentation had become the ruling passion of the American people. +Money, <small>MONEY</small>, MONEY! was to-day the only standard, +the only god! The whole nation, frenzied with a wild lust for +wealth no matter how acquired, had tacitly acquiesced in all sorts +of turpitude, every description of moral depravity, and so had +fallen an easy victim to the band of capitalistic adventurers who +now virtually ruled the land. With the thieves in power, the +courts were powerless, the demoralization was general and the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page180" id="page180" title="180"></a> +world was afforded the edifying spectacle of an entire country +given up to an orgy of graft—treason in the +Senate—corruption in the Legislature, fraudulent elections, +leaks in government reports, trickery in Wall Street, illegal +corners in coal, meat, ice and other prime necessaries of life, +the deadly horrors of the Beef and Drug Trusts, railroad +conspiracies, insurance scandals, the wrecking of savings banks, +police dividing spoils with pickpockets and sharing the wages of +prostitutes, magistrates charged with blackmailing—a foul +stench of social rottenness and decay! What, thought Jefferson, +would be the outcome—Socialism or Anarchy?</p> + +<p>Still, he mused, one ray of hope pierced the general +gloom—the common sense, the vigour and the intelligence of +the true American man and woman, the love for a “square +deal” which was characteristic of the plain people, the +resistless force of enlightened public opinion. The country was +merely passing through a dark phase in its history, it was the era +of the grafters. There would come a reaction, the rascals would +be exposed and driven off, and the nation would go on upward +toward its high destiny. The country was fortunate, too, in having +a strong president, a man of high principles and undaunted courage +who had already shown his capacity to deal with the critical +situation. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page181" id="page181" title="181"></a> +America was lucky with her presidents. Picked out by the great +political parties as mere figureheads, sometimes they deceived +their sponsors, and showed themselves men and patriots. Such a +president was Theodore Roosevelt. After beginning vigorous warfare +on the Trusts, attacking fearlessly the most rascally of the band, +the chief of the nation had sounded the slogan of alarm in regard +to the multi-millionaires. The amassing of colossal fortunes, he +had declared, must be stopped—a man might accumulate more +than sufficient for his own needs and for the needs of his +children, but the evil practice of perpetuating great and +ever-increasing fortunes for generations yet unborn was recognized +as a peril to the State. To have had the courage to propose such a +sweeping and radical restrictive measure as this should alone, +thought Jefferson, ensure for Theodore Roosevelt a place among +America's greatest and wisest statesmen. He and Americans of his +calibre would eventually perform the titanic task of cleansing +these Augean stables, the muck and accumulated filth of which was +sapping the health and vitality of the nation.</p> + +<p>Jefferson turned abruptly and went up the wide steps of an +imposing white marble edifice, which took up the space of half a +city block. A fine example of French Renaissance architecture, +with spire roofs, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page182" id="page182" title="182"></a> +round turrets and mullioned windows dominating the neighbouring +houses, this magnificent home of the plutocrat, with its +furnishings and art treasures, had cost John Burkett Ryder nearly +ten millions of dollars. It was one of the show places of the +town, and when the “rubber neck” wagons approached the +Ryder mansion and the guides, through their megaphones, expatiated +in awe-stricken tones on its external and hidden beauties, there +was a general craning of vertebræ among the “seeing +New York”-ers to catch a glimpse of the abode of the richest +man in the world.</p> + +<p>Only a few privileged ones were ever permitted to penetrate to +the interior of this ten-million-dollar home. Ryder was not fond +of company, he avoided strangers and lived in continual +apprehension of the subpœna server. Not that he feared the +law, only he usually found it inconvenient to answer questions in +court under oath. The explicit instructions to the servants, +therefore, were to admit no one under any pretext whatever unless +the visitor had been approved by the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, Mr. +Ryder's aristocratic private secretary, and to facilitate this +preliminary inspection there had been installed between the +library upstairs and the front door one of those ingenious +electric writing devices, such as are used in banks, on which a +name is hastily scribbled, instantly transmitted elsewhere, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page183" id="page183" title="183"></a> +immediately answered and the visitor promptly admitted or as +quickly shown the door.</p> + +<p>Indeed the house, from the street, presented many of the +characteristics of a prison. It had massive doors behind a row of +highly polished steel gates, which would prove as useful in case +of attempted invasion as they were now ornamental, and heavily +barred windows, while on either side of the portico were great +marble columns hung with chains and surmounted with bronze lions +rampant. It was unusual to keep the town house open so late in the +summer, but Mr. Ryder was obliged for business reasons to be in +New York at this time, and Mrs. Ryder, who was one of the few +American wives who do not always get their own way, had +good-naturedly acquiesced in the wishes of her lord.</p> + +<p>Jefferson did not have to ring at the paternal portal. The +sentinel within was at his post; no one could approach that door +without being seen and his arrival and appearance signalled +upstairs. But the great man's son headed the list of the +privileged ones, so without ado the smartly dressed flunkey opened +wide the doors and Jefferson was under his father's roof.</p> + +<p>“Is my father in?” he demanded of the man.</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” was the respectful answer. “Mr. +Ryder has gone out driving, but Mr. Bagley is upstairs.” +<a class="pagebreak" name="page184" id="page184" title="184"></a> +Then after a brief pause he added: “Mrs. Ryder is in, +too.”</p> + +<p>In this household where the personality of the mistress was so +completely overshadowed by the stronger personality of the master +the latter's secretary was a more important personage to the +servants than the unobtrusive wife.</p> + +<p>Jefferson went up the grand staircase hung on either side with +fine old portraits and rare tapestries, his feet sinking deep in +the rich velvet carpet. On the first landing was a piece of +sculptured marble of inestimable worth, seen in the soft warm +light that sifted through a great pictorial stained-glass window +overhead, the subject representing Ajax and Ulysses contending for +the armour of Achilles. To the left of this, at the top of another +flight leading to the library, was hung a fine full-length +portrait of John Burkett Ryder. The ceilings here as in the lower +hall were richly gilt and adorned with paintings by famous modern +artists. When he reached this floor Jefferson was about to turn +to the right and proceed direct to his mother's suite when he +heard a voice near the library door. It was Mr. Bagley giving +instructions to the butler.</p> + +<p>The Honourable Fitzroy Bagley, a younger son of a British peer, +had left his country for his country's good, and in order to turn +an honest penny, which +<a class="pagebreak" name="page185" id="page185" title="185"></a> +he had never succeeded in doing at home, he had entered the +service of America's foremost financier, hoping to gather a few of +the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table and disguising the +menial nature of his position under the high-sounding title of +private secretary. His job called for a spy and a toady and he +filled these requirements admirably. Excepting with his employer, +of whom he stood in craven fear, his manner was condescendingly +patronizing to all with whom he came in contact, as if he were +anxious to impress on these American plebeians the signal honour +which a Fitzroy, son of a British peer, did them in deigning to +remain in their “blarsted” country. In Mr. Ryder's +absence, therefore, he ran the house to suit himself, bullying the +servants and not infrequently issuing orders that were +contradictory to those already given by Mrs. Ryder. The latter +offered no resistance, she knew he was useful to her husband and, +what to her mind was a still better reason for letting him have +his own way, she had always had the greatest reverence for the +British aristocracy. It would have seemed to her little short of +vulgarity to question the actions of anyone who spoke with such a +delightful English accent. Moreover, he dressed with +irreproachable taste, was an acknowledged authority on dinner +menus and social functions and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page186" id="page186" title="186"></a> +knew his Burke backwards—altogether an accomplished and +invaluable person.</p> + +<p>Jefferson could not bear the sight of him; in fact, it was this +man's continual presence in the house that had driven him to seek +refuge elsewhere. He believed him to be a scoundrel as he +certainly was a cad. Nor was his estimate of the English +secretary far wrong. The man, like his master, was a grafter, and +the particular graft he was after now was either to make a +marriage with a rich American girl or to so compromise her that +the same end would be attained. He was shrewd enough to realize +that he had little chance to get what he wanted in the open +matrimonial market, so he determined to attempt a raid and carry +off an heiress under her father's nose, and the particular +proboscis he had selected was that of his employer's friend, +Senator Roberts. The senator and Miss Roberts were frequently at +the Ryder House and in course of time the aristocratic secretary +and the daughter had become quite intimate. A flighty girl, with +no other purpose in life beyond dress and amusement and having +what she termed “a good time,” Kate thought it +excellent pastime to flirt with Mr. Bagley, and when she +discovered that he was serious in his attentions she felt +flattered rather than indignant. After all, she argued, he was of +noble birth. If his +<a class="pagebreak" name="page187" id="page187" title="187"></a> +two brothers died he would be peer of England, and she had enough +money for both. He might not make a bad husband. But she was +careful to keep her own counsel and not let her father have any +suspicion of what was going on. She knew that his heart was set on +her marrying Jefferson Ryder and she knew better than anyone how +impossible that dream was. She herself liked Jefferson quite +enough to marry him, but if his eyes were turned in another +direction—and she knew all about his attentions to Miss +Rossmore—she was not going to break her heart about it. So +she continued to flirt secretly with the Honourable Fitzroy while +she still led the Ryders and her own father to think that she was +interested in Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“Jorkins,” Mr. Bagley was saying to the butler, +“Mr. Ryder will occupy the library on his return. See that +he is not disturbed.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied the butler respectfully. The +man turned to go when the secretary called him back.</p> + +<p>“And, Jorkins, you will station another man at the front +entrance. Yesterday it was left unguarded, and a man had the +audacity to address Mr. Ryder as he was getting out of his +carriage. Last week a reporter tried to snapshot him. Mr. Ryder +was furious. These things must not happen again, Jorkins. I shall +hold you responsible.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page188" id="page188" title="188"></a> +<p>“Very good, sir.” The butler bowed and went +downstairs. The secretary looked up and saw Jefferson. His face +reddened and his manner grew nervous.</p> + +<p>“Hello! Back from Europe, Jefferson? How jolly! Your +mother will be delighted. She's in her room upstairs.”</p> + +<p>Declining to take the hint, and gathering from Bagley's +embarrassed manner that he wanted to get rid of him, Jefferson +lingered purposely. When the butler had disappeared, he said:</p> + +<p>“This house is getting more and more like a barracks +every day. You've got men all over the place. One can't move a +step without falling over one.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley drew himself up stiffly, as he always did when +assuming an air of authority.</p> + +<p>“Your father's personality demands the utmost +precaution,” he replied. “We cannot leave the life of +the richest and most powerful financier in the world at the mercy +of the rabble.”</p> + +<p>“What rabble?” inquired Jefferson, amused.</p> + +<p>“The common rabble—the lower class—the +riff-raff,” explained Mr. Bagley.</p> + +<p>“Pshaw!” laughed Jefferson. “If our +financiers were only half as respectable as the common rabble, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page189" id="page189" title="189"></a> +as you call them, they would need no bars to their +houses.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley sneered and shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Your father has warned me against your socialistic +views.” Then, with a lofty air, he added: “For four +years I was third groom of the bedchamber to the second son of +England's queen. I know my responsibilities.”</p> + +<p>“But you are not groom of the bedchamber here,” +retorted Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“Whatever I am,” said Mr. Bagley haughtily, +“I am answerable to your father alone.”</p> + +<p>“By the way, Bagley,” asked Jefferson, “when +do you expect father to return? I want to see him.”</p> + +<p>“I'm afraid it's quite impossible,” answered the +secretary with studied insolence. “He has three important +people to see before dinner. There's the National Republican +Committee and Sergeant Ellison of the Secret Service from +Washington—all here by appointment. It's quite +impossible.”</p> + +<p>“I didn't ask you if it were possible. I said I wanted to +see him and I will see him,” answered Jefferson quietly but +firmly, and in a tone and manner which did not admit of further +opposition. “I'll go and leave word for him on his +desk,” he added.</p> + +<p>He started to enter the library when the secretary, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page190" id="page190" title="190"></a> +who was visibly perturbed, attempted to bar his way.</p> + +<p>“There's some one in there,” he said in an +undertone. “Someone waiting for your father.”</p> + +<p>“Is there?” replied Jefferson coolly. “I'll +see who it is,” with which he brushed past Mr. Bagley and +entered the library.</p> + +<p>He had guessed aright. A woman was there. It was Kate +Roberts.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Kate! how are you?” They called each other +by their first names, having been acquainted for years, and while +theirs was an indifferent kind of friendship they had always been +on good terms. At one time Jefferson had even begun to think he +might do what his father wished and marry the girl, but it was +only after he had met and known Shirley Rossmore that he realized +how different one woman can be from another. Yet Kate had her good +qualities. She was frivolous and silly as are most girls with no +brains and nothing else to do in life but dress and spend money, +but she might yet be happy with some other fellow, and that was +why it made him angry to see this girl with $100,000 in her own +right playing into the hands of an unscrupulous adventurer. He had +evidently disturbed an interesting <i>tête-à-tête</i>. He decided +to say nothing, but mentally he resolved to spoil +<a class="pagebreak" name="page191" id="page191" title="191"></a> +Mr. Bagley's game and save Kate from her own folly. On hearing +his voice Kate turned and gave a little cry of genuine +surprise.</p> + +<p>“Why, is it you, Jeff? I thought you were in +Europe.”</p> + +<p>“I returned yesterday,” he replied somewhat curtly. +He crossed over to his father's desk where he sat down to scribble +a few words, while Mr. Bagley, who had followed him in scowling, +was making frantic dumb signs to Kate.</p> + +<p>“I fear I intrude here,” said Jefferson +pointedly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear no, not at all,” replied Kate in some +confusion. “I was waiting for my father. How is +Paris?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Lovely as ever,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Did you have a good time?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“I enjoyed it immensely. I never had a better +one.”</p> + +<p>“You probably were in good company,” she said +significantly. Then she added: “I believe Miss Rossmore was +in Paris.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think she was there,” was his non-committal +answer.</p> + +<p>To change the conversation, which was becoming decidedly +personal, he picked up a book that was lying on his father's desk +and glanced at the title. It was “The American +Octopus.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page192" id="page192" title="192"></a> +<p>“Is father still reading this?” he asked. “He +was at it when I left.”</p> + +<p>“Everybody is reading it,” said Kate. “The +book has made a big sensation. Do you know who the hero +is?”</p> + +<p>“Who?” he asked with an air of the greatest +innocence.</p> + +<p>“Why, no less a personage than your father—John +Burkett Ryder himself! Everybody says it's he—the press and +everybody that's read it. He says so himself.”</p> + +<p>“Really?” he exclaimed with well-simulated +surprise. “I must read it.”</p> + +<p>“It has made a strong impression on Mr. Ryder,” +chimed in Mr. Bagley. “I never knew him to be so interested +in a book before. He's trying his best to find out who the author +is. It's a jolly well written book and raps you American +millionaires jolly well—what?”</p> + +<p>“Whoever wrote the book,” interrupted Kate, +“is somebody who knows Mr. Ryder exceedingly well. There +are things in it that an outsider could not possibly +know.”</p> + +<p>“Phew!” Jefferson whistled softly to himself. He +was treading dangerous ground. To conceal his embarrassment, he +rose.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page193" id="page193" title="193"></a> +<p>“If you'll excuse me, I'll go and pay my filial respects +upstairs. I'll see you again,” He gave Kate a friendly nod, +and without even glancing at Mr. Bagley left the room.</p> + +<p>The couple stood in silence for a few moments after he +disappeared. Then Kate went to the door and listened to his +retreating footsteps. When she was sure that he was out of earshot +she turned on Mr. Bagley indignantly.</p> + +<p>“You see what you expose me to. Jefferson thinks this was +a rendezvous.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was to a certain extent,” replied the +secretary unabashed. “Didn't you ask me to see you +here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Kate, taking a letter from her bosom, +“I wanted to ask you what this means?”</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss +Roberts—Kate—I”—stammered the +secretary.</p> + +<p>“How dare you address me in this manner when you know I +and Mr. Ryder are engaged?”</p> + +<p>No one knew better than Kate that this was not true, but she +said it partly out of vanity, partly out of a desire to draw out +this Englishman who made such bold love to her.</p> + +<p>“Miss Roberts,” replied Mr. Bagley loftily, +“in that note I expressed my admiration—my love for +you. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page194" id="page194" title="194"></a> +Your engagement to Mr. Jefferson Ryder is, to say the least, a +most uncertain fact.” There was a tinge of sarcasm in his +voice that did not escape Kate.</p> + +<p>“You must not judge from appearances,” she +answered, trying to keep up the outward show of indignation which +inwardly she did not feel. “Jeff and I may hide a passion +that burns like a volcano. All lovers are not demonstrative, you +know.”</p> + +<p>The absurdity of this description as applied to her relations +with Jefferson appealed to her as so comical that she burst into +laughter in which the secretary joined.</p> + +<p>“Then why did you remain here with me when the Senator +went out with Mr. Ryder, senior?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“To tell you that I cannot listen to your nonsense any +longer,” retorted the girl.</p> + +<p>“What?” he cried, incredulously. “You remain +here to tell me that you cannot listen to me when you could easily +have avoided listening to me without telling me so. Kate, your +coldness is not convincing.”</p> + +<p>“You mean you think I want to listen to you?” she +demanded.</p> + +<p>“I do,” he answered, stepping forward as if to take +her in his arms.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Bagley!” she exclaimed, recoiling.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page195" id="page195" title="195"></a> +<p>“A week ago,” he persisted, “you called me +Fitzroy. Once, in an outburst of confidence, you called me +Fitz.”</p> + +<p>“You hadn't asked me to marry you then,” she +laughed mockingly. Then edging away towards the door she waved her +hand at him playfully and said teasingly: “Good-bye, Mr. +Bagley, I am going upstairs to Mrs. Ryder. I will await my +father's return in her room. I think I shall be safer.”</p> + +<p>He ran forward to intercept her, but she was too quick for him. +The door slammed in his face and she was gone.</p> + +<p>Meantime Jefferson had proceeded upstairs, passing through long +and luxuriously carpeted corridors with panelled frescoed walls, +and hung with grand old tapestries and splendid paintings, until +he came to his mother's room. He knocked.</p> + +<p>“Come in!” called out the familiar voice.</p> + +<p>He entered. Mrs. Ryder was busy at her escritoire looking over +a mass of household accounts.</p> + +<p>“Hello, mother!” he cried, running up and hugging +her in his boyish, impulsive way. Jefferson had always been +devoted to his mother, and while he deplored her weakness in +permitting herself to be so completely under the domination of his +father, she had always found him an affectionate and loving +son.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page196" id="page196" title="196"></a> +<p>“Jefferson!” she exclaimed when he released her. +“My dear boy, when did you arrive?”</p> + +<p>“Only yesterday. I slept at the studio last night. +You're looking bully, mother. How's father?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ryder sighed while she looked her son over proudly. In her +heart she was glad Jefferson had turned out as he had. Her boy +certainly would never be a financier to be attacked in magazines +and books. Answering his question she said:</p> + +<p>“Your father is as well as those busybodies in the +newspapers will let him be. He's considerably worried just now +over that new book ‘The American Octopus.’ How dare +they make him out such a monster? He's no worse than other +successful business men. He's richer, that's all, and it makes +them jealous. He's out driving now with Senator Roberts. Kate is +somewhere in the house—in the library, I think.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I found her there,” replied Jefferson dryly. +“She was with that cad, Bagley. When is father going to find +that fellow out?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jefferson,” protested his mother, “how +can you talk like that of Mr. Bagley. He is such a perfect +gentleman. His family connections alone should entitle him to +respect. He is certainly the best secretary your father ever had. +I'm sure I don't know what we +<a class="pagebreak" name="page197" id="page197" title="197"></a> +should do without him. He knows everything that a gentleman +should.”</p> + +<p>“And a good deal more, I wager,” growled Jefferson. +“He wasn't groom of the backstairs to England's queen for +nothing.” Then changing the topic, he said suddenly: +“Talking about Kate, mother, we have got to reach some +definite understanding. This talk about my marrying her must stop. +I intend to take the matter up with father to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course, more trouble!” replied his mother +in a resigned tone. She was so accustomed to having her wishes +thwarted that she was never surprised at anything. “We heard +of your goings on in Paris. That Miss Rossmore was there, was she +not?”</p> + +<p>“That has got nothing to do with it,” replied +Jefferson warmly. He resented Shirley's name being dragged into +the discussion. Then more calmly he went on: “Now, mother, +be reasonable, listen. I purpose to live my own life. I have +already shown my father that I will not be dictated to, and that I +can earn my own living. He has no right to force this marriage on +me. There has never been any misunderstanding on Kate's part. She +and I understand each other thoroughly.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Jefferson, you may be right from your point of +view,” replied his mother weakly. She invariably +<a class="pagebreak" name="page198" id="page198" title="198"></a> +ended by agreeing with the last one who argued with her. +“You are of age, of course. Your parents have only a moral +right over you. Only remember this: it would be foolish of you to +do anything now to anger your father. His interests are your +interests. Don't do anything to jeopardize them. Of course, you +can't be forced to marry a girl you don't care for, but your +father will be bitterly disappointed. He had set his heart on this +match. He knows all about your infatuation for Miss Rossmore and +it has made him furious. I suppose you've heard about her +father?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and it's a dastardly outrage,” blurted out +Jefferson. “It's a damnable conspiracy against one of the +most honourable men that ever lived, and I mean to ferret out and +expose the authors. I came here to-day to ask father to help +me.”</p> + +<p>“You came to ask your father to help you?” echoed +his mother incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” demanded Jefferson. “Is it true +then that he is selfishness incarnate? Wouldn't he do that much to +help a friend?”</p> + +<p>“You've come to the wrong house, Jeff. You ought to know +that. Your father is far from being Judge Rossmore's friend. +Surely you have sense enough to realize that there are two reasons +why he would not raise a finger to help him. One is that he has +always +<a class="pagebreak" name="page199" id="page199" title="199"></a> +been his opponent in public life, the other is that you want to +marry his daughter.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson sat as if struck dumb. He had not thought of that. +Yes, it was true. His father and the father of the girl he loved +were mortal enemies. How was help to be expected from the head of +those “interests” which the judge had always attacked, +and now he came to think of it, perhaps his own father was really +at the bottom of these abominable charges! He broke into a cold +perspiration and his voice was altered as he said:</p> + +<p>“Yes, I see now, mother. You are right.” Then he +added bitterly: “That has always been the trouble at home. +No matter where I turn, I am up against a stone wall—the +money interests. One never hears a glimmer of fellow-feeling, +never a word of human sympathy, only cold calculation, heartless +reasoning, money, money, money! Oh, I am sick of it. I don't want +any of it. I am going away where I'll hear no more of +it.”</p> + +<p>His mother laid her hand gently on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Don't talk that way, Jefferson. Your father is not a bad +man at heart, you know that. His life has been devoted to money +making and he has made a greater fortune than any man living or +dead. He is only what his life has made him. He has a good heart. +And +<a class="pagebreak" name="page200" id="page200" title="200"></a> +he loves you—his only son. But his business +enemies—ah! those he never forgives.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson was about to reply when suddenly a dozen electric +bells sounded all over the house.</p> + +<p>“What's that?” exclaimed Jefferson, alarmed, and +starting towards the door.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that's nothing,” smiled his mother. “We +have had that put in since you went away. Your father must have +just come in. Those bells announce the fact. It was done so that +if there happened to be any strangers in the house they could be +kept out of the way until he reached the library +safely.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” laughed Jefferson, “he's afraid some +one will kidnap him? Certainly he would be a rich prize. I +wouldn't care for the job myself, though. They'd be catching a +tartar.”</p> + +<p>His speech was interrupted by a timid knock at the door.</p> + +<p>“May I come in to say good-bye?” asked a voice +which they recognized as Kate's. She had successfully escaped from +Mr. Bagley's importunities and was now going home with the +Senator. She smiled amiably at Jefferson and they chatted +pleasantly of his trip abroad. He was sincerely sorry for this +girl whom they were trying to foist on him. Not that he thought +she really cared for him, he was well aware that hers was a +<a class="pagebreak" name="page201" id="page201" title="201"></a> +nature that made it impossible to feel very deeply on any subject, +but the idea of this ready-made marriage was so foreign, so +revolting to the American mind! He thought it would be a kindness +to warn her against Bagley.</p> + +<p>“Don't be foolish, Kate,” he said. “I was not +blind just now in the library. That man is no good.”</p> + +<p>As is usual when one's motives are suspected, the girl resented +his interference. She knew he hated Mr. Bagley and she thought it +mean of him to try and get even in this way. She stiffened up and +replied coldly:</p> + +<p>“I think I am able to look after myself, Jefferson. +Thanks, all the same.”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders and made no reply. She said good-bye +to Mrs. Ryder, who was again immersed in her tradespeople bills, +and left the room, escorted by Jefferson, who accompanied her +downstairs and on to the street where Senator Roberts was waiting +for her in the open victoria. The senator greeted with unusual +cordiality the young man whom he still hoped to make his +son-in-law.</p> + +<p>“Come and see us, Jefferson,” he said. “Come +to dinner any evening. We are always alone and Kate and I will be +glad to see you.”</p> + +<p>“Jefferson has so little time now, father. His work +and—his friends keep him pretty busy,”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page202" id="page202" title="202"></a> +<p>Jefferson had noted both the pause and the sarcasm, but he said +nothing. He smiled and the senator raised his hat. As the carriage +drove off the young man noticed that Kate glanced at one of the +upper windows where Mr. Bagley stood behind a curtain watching. +Jefferson returned to the house. The psychological moment had +arrived. He must go now and confront his father in the +library.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page203" id="page203" title="203"></a> +<a name="chapter9" id="chapter9"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p>The library was the most important room in the Ryder mansion, +for it was there that the Colossus carried through his most +important business deals, and its busiest hours were those which +most men devote to rest. But John Burkett Ryder never rested. +There could be no rest for any man who had a thousand millions of +dollars to take care of. Like Macbeth, he could sleep no more. +When the hum of business life had ceased down town and he returned +home from the tall building in lower Broadway, then his real work +began. The day had been given to mere business routine; in his own +library at night, free from inquisitive ears and prying eyes, he +could devise new schemes for strengthening his grip upon the +country, he could evolve more gigantic plans for adding to his +already countless millions.</p> + +<p>Here the money Moloch held court like any king, with as much +ceremony and more secrecy, and having for his courtiers some of +the most prominent men in the political and industrial life of the +nation. Corrupt senators, grafting Congressmen, ambitious railroad +<a class="pagebreak" name="page204" id="page204" title="204"></a> +presidents, insolent coal barons who impudently claimed they +administered the coal lands in trust for the Almighty, +unscrupulous princes of finance and commerce, all visited this +room to receive orders or pay from the head of the +“System.” Here were made and unmade governors of +States, mayors of cities, judges, heads of police, cabinet +ministers, even presidents. Here were turned over to confidential +agents millions of dollars to overturn the people's vote in the +National elections; here were distributed yearly hundreds of +thousands of dollars to grafters, large and small, who had earned +it in the service of the “interests.”</p> + +<p>Here, secretly and unlawfully, the heads of railroads met to +agree on rates which by discriminating against one locality in +favour of another crushed out competition, raised the cost to the +consumer, and put millions in the pockets of the Trust. Here were +planned tricky financial operations, with deliberate intent to +mislead and deceive the investing public, operations which would +send stocks soaring one day, only a week later to put Wall Street +on the verge of panic. Half a dozen suicides might result from the +coup, but twice as many millions of profits had gone into the +coffers of the “System.” Here, too, was perpetrated +the most heinous crime that can be committed against a +<a class="pagebreak" name="page205" id="page205" title="205"></a> +free people—the conspiring of the Trusts abetted by the +railroads, to arbitrarily raise the prices of the necessaries of +life—meat, coal, oil, ice, gas—wholly without other +justification than that of greed, which, with these men, was the +unconquerable, all-absorbing passion. In short, everything that +unscrupulous leaders of organized capital could devise to squeeze +the life blood out of the patient, defenceless toiler was done +within these four walls.</p> + +<p>It was a handsome room, noble in proportions and abundantly +lighted by three large and deeply recessed, mullioned windows, one +in the middle of the room and one at either end. The lofty ceiling +was a marvellously fine example of panelled oak of Gothic design, +decorated with gold, and the shelves for books which lined the +walls were likewise of oak, richly carved. In the centre of the +wall facing the windows was a massive and elaborately designed oak +chimney-piece, reaching up to the ceiling, and having in the +middle panel over the mantel a fine three-quarter length portrait +of George Washington. The room was furnished sumptuously yet +quietly, and fully in keeping with the rich collection of classic +and modern authors that filled the bookcases, and in corners here +and there stood pedestals with marble busts of Shakespeare, Goethe +and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page206" id="page206" title="206"></a> +Voltaire. It was the retreat of a scholar rather than of a man of +affairs.</p> + +<p>When Jefferson entered, his father was seated at his desk, a +long black cigar between his lips, giving instructions to Mr. +Bagley. Mr. Ryder looked up quickly as the door opened and the +secretary made a movement forward as if to eject the intruder, no +matter who he might be. They were not accustomed to having people +enter the sanctum of the Colossus so unceremoniously. But when he +saw who it was, Mr. Ryder's stern, set face relaxed and he greeted +his son amiably.</p> + +<p>“Why, Jeff, my boy, is that you? Just a moment, until I +get rid of Bagley, and I'll be with you.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson turned to the book shelves and ran over the titles +while the financier continued his business with the secretary.</p> + +<p>“Now, Bagley. Come, quick. What is it?”</p> + +<p>He spoke in a rapid, explosive manner, like a man who has only +a few moments to spare before he must rush to catch a train. John +Ryder had been catching trains all his life, and he had seldom +missed one.</p> + +<p>“Governor Rice called. He wants an appointment,” +said Mr. Bagley, holding out a card.</p> + +<p>“I can't see him. Tell him so,” came the answer, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page207" id="page207" title="207"></a> +quick as a flash. “Who else?” he demanded. +“Where's your list?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley took from the desk a list of names and read them +over.</p> + +<p>“General Abbey telephoned. He says you +promised—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” interrupted Ryder impatiently, +“but not here. Down town, to-morrow, any time. +Next?”</p> + +<p>The secretary jotted down a note against each name and then +said:</p> + +<p>“There are some people downstairs in the reception room. +They are here by appointment.”</p> + +<p>“Who are they?”</p> + +<p>“The National Republican Committee and Sergeant Ellison +of the Secret Service from Washington,” replied Mr. +Bagley.</p> + +<p>“Who was here first?” demanded the financier.</p> + +<p>“Sergeant Ellison, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Then I'll see him first, and the Committee afterwards. +But let them all wait until I ring. I wish to speak with my +son.”</p> + +<p>He waved his hand and the secretary, knowing well from +experience that this was a sign that there must be no further +discussion, bowed respectfully and left the room. Jefferson turned +and advanced towards his father, who held out his hand.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page208" id="page208" title="208"></a> +<p>“Well, Jefferson,” he said kindly, “did you +have a good time abroad?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, thank you. Such a trip is a liberal education +in itself.”</p> + +<p>“Ready for work again, eh? I'm glad you're back, +Jefferson. I'm busy now, but one of these days I want to have a +serious talk with you in regard to your future. This artist +business is all very well—for a pastime. But it's not a +career—surely you can appreciate that—for a young man +with such prospects as yours. Have you ever stopped to think of +that?”</p> + +<p>Jefferson was silent. He did not want to displease his father; +on the other hand, it was impossible to let things drift as they +had been doing. There must be an understanding sooner or later. +Why not now?</p> + +<p>“The truth is, sir,” he began timidly, “I'd +like a little talk with you now, if you can spare the +time.”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., looked first at his watch and then at his son, who, +ill at ease, sat nervously on the extreme edge of a chair. Then he +said with a smile:</p> + +<p>“Well, my boy, to be perfectly frank, I +can't—but—I will. Come, what is it?” Then, as if +to apologize for his previous abruptness, he added, “I've +had a very busy day, Jeff. What with Trans-Continental and +Trans-Atlantic and Southern Pacific, and Wall +<a class="pagebreak" name="page209" id="page209" title="209"></a> +Street, and Rate Bills, and Washington I feel like Atlas +shouldering the world.”</p> + +<p>“The world wasn't intended for one pair of shoulders to +carry, sir,” rejoined Jefferson calmly.</p> + +<p>His father looked at him in amazement. It was something new to +hear anyone venturing to question or comment upon anything he +said.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” he demanded, when he had recovered from +his surprise. “Julius Cæsar carried it. Napoleon +carried it—to a certain extent. However, that's neither here +nor there. What is it, boy?”</p> + +<p>Unable to remain a moment inactive, he commenced to pick among +the mass of papers on his desk, while Jefferson was thinking what +to say. The last word his father uttered gave him a cue, and he +blurted out protestingly:</p> + +<p>“That's just it, sir. You forget that I'm no longer a +boy. It's time to treat me as if I were a man.”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>“A man at twenty-eight? That's an excellent joke. Do you +know that a man doesn't get his horse sense till he's +forty?”</p> + +<p>“I want you to take me seriously,” persisted +Jefferson.</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., was not a patient man. His moments +<a class="pagebreak" name="page210" id="page210" title="210"></a> +of good humour were of brief duration. Anything that savoured of +questioning his authority always angered him. The smile went out +of his face and he retorted explosively:</p> + +<p>“Go on—damn it all! Be serious if you want, only +don't take so long about it. But understand one thing. I want no +preaching, no philosophical or socialistic twaddle. No +Tolstoi—he's a great thinker, and you're not. No Bernard +Shaw—he's funny, and you're not. Now go ahead.”</p> + +<p>This beginning was not very encouraging, and Jefferson felt +somewhat intimidated. But he realized that he might not have +another such opportunity, so he plunged right in.</p> + +<p>“I should have spoken to you before if you had let +me,” he said. “I often—”</p> + +<p>“If I let you?” interrupted his father. “Do +you expect me to sit and listen patiently to your wild theories of +social reform? You asked me one day why the wages of the idle rich +was wealth and the wages of hard work was poverty, and I told you +that I worked harder in one day than a tunnel digger works in a +life-time. Thinking is a harder game than any. You must think or +you won't know. Napoleon knew more about war than all his generals +put together. I know more about money than any man +<a class="pagebreak" name="page211" id="page211" title="211"></a> +living to-day. The man who knows is the man who wins. The man who +takes advice isn't fit to give it. That's why I never take yours. +Come, don't be a fool, Jeff—give up this art nonsense. Come +back to the Trading Company. I'll make you vice-president, and +I'll teach you the business of making millions.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson shook his head. It was hard to have to tell his own +father that he did not think the million-making business quite a +respectable one, so he only murmured:</p> + +<p>“It's impossible, father. I am devoted to my work. I +even intend to go away and travel a few years and see the world. +It will help me considerably.”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., eyed his son in silence for a few moments; then he +said gently:</p> + +<p>“Don't be obstinate, Jeff. Listen to me. I know the world +better than you do. You mustn't go away. You are the only flesh +and blood I have.”</p> + +<p>He stopped speaking for a moment, as if overcome by a sudden +emotion over which he had no control. Jefferson remained silent, +nervously toying with a paper cutter. Seeing that his words had +made no effect, Ryder thumped his desk with his fist and +cried:</p> + +<p>“You see my weakness. You see that I want you with me, +and now you take advantage—you take +advantage—”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page212" id="page212" title="212"></a> +<p>“No, father, I don't,” protested Jefferson; +“but I want to go away. Although I have my studio and am +practically independent, I want to go where I shall be perfectly +free—where my every move will not be watched—where I +can meet my fellow-man heart to heart on an equal basis, where I +shall not be pointed out as the son of Ready Money Ryder. I want +to make a reputation of my own as an artist.”</p> + +<p>“Why not study theology and become a preacher?” +sneered Ryder. Then, more amiably, he said: “No, my lad, you +stay here. Study my interests—study the interests that will +be yours some day.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Jefferson doggedly, “I'd rather +go—my work and my self-respect demand it.”</p> + +<p>“Then go, damn it, go!” cried his father in a burst +of anger. “I'm a fool for wasting my time with an ungrateful +son.” He rose from his seat and began to pace the room.</p> + +<p>“Father,” exclaimed Jefferson starting forward, +“you do me an injustice.”</p> + +<p>“An injustice?” echoed Mr. Ryder turning round. +“Ye gods! I've given you the biggest name in the commercial +world; the most colossal fortune ever accumulated by one man is +waiting for you, and you say I've done you an +injustice!”</p> + +<p>“Yes—we are rich,” said Jefferson bitterly. +“But +<a class="pagebreak" name="page213" id="page213" title="213"></a> +at what a cost! You do not go into the world and hear the sneers +that I get everywhere. You may succeed in muzzling the newspapers +and magazines, but you cannot silence public opinion. People laugh +when they hear the name Ryder—when they do not weep. All +your millions cannot purchase the world's respect. You try to +throw millions to the public as a bone to a dog, and they decline +the money on the ground that it is tainted. Doesn't that tell you +what the world thinks of your methods?”</p> + +<p>Ryder laughed cynically. He went back to his desk, and, sitting +facing his son, he replied:</p> + +<p>“Jefferson, you are young. It is one of the symptoms of +youth to worry about public opinion. When you are as old as I am +you will understand that there is only one thing which counts in +this world—money. The man who has it possesses power over +the man who has it not, and power is what the ambitious man loves +most.”</p> + +<p>He stopped to pick up a book. It was “The American +Octopus.” Turning again to his son, he went on:</p> + +<p>“Do you see this book? It is the literary sensation of +the year. Why? Because it attacks me—the richest man in the +world. It holds me up as a monster, a tyrant, a man without soul, +honour or conscience, caring only for one thing—money; +having but one passion—the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page214" id="page214" title="214"></a> +love of power, and halting at nothing, not even at crime, to +secure it. That is the portrait they draw of your +father.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson said nothing. He was wondering if his sire had a +suspicion who wrote it and was leading up to that. But Ryder, Sr., +continued:</p> + +<p>“Do I care? The more they attack me the more I like it. +Their puny pen pricks have about the same effect as mosquito bites +on the pachyderm. What I am, the conditions of my time made me. +When I started in business a humble clerk, forty years ago, I had +but one goal—success; I had but one aim—to get rich. I +was lucky. I made a little money, and I soon discovered that I +could make more money by outwitting my competitors in the oil +fields. Railroad conditions helped me. The whole country was money +mad. A wave of commercial prosperity swept over the land and I was +carried along on its crest. I grew enormously rich, my millions +increasing by leaps and bounds. I branched out into other +interests, successful always, until my holdings grew to what they +are to-day—the wonder of the twentieth century. What do I +care for the world's respect when my money makes the world my +slave? What respect can I have for a people that cringe before +money and let it rule them? Are you aware that not a factory wheel +<a class="pagebreak" name="page215" id="page215" title="215"></a> +turns, not a vote is counted, not a judge is appointed, not a +legislator seated, not a president elected without my consent? I +am the real ruler of the United States—not the so-called +government at Washington. They are my puppets and this is my +executive chamber. This power will be yours one day, boy, but you +must know how to use it when it comes.”</p> + +<p>“I never want it, father,” said Jefferson firmly. +“To me your words savour of treason. I couldn't imagine that +American talking that way.” He pointed to the mantel, at the +picture of George Washington.</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., laughed. He could not help it if his son was an +idealist. There was no use getting angry, so he merely shrugged +his shoulders and said:</p> + +<p>“All right, Jeff. We'll discuss the matter later, when +you've cut your wisdom teeth. Just at present you're in the +clouds. But you spoke of my doing you an injustice. How can my +love of power do you an injustice?”</p> + +<p>“Because,” replied Jefferson, “you exert that +power over your family as well as over your business associates. +You think and will for everybody in the house, for everyone who +comes in contact with you. Yours is an influence no one seems able +to resist. You robbed me of my right to think. Ever since I was +old enough to think, you have thought for me; ever since I was +<a class="pagebreak" name="page216" id="page216" title="216"></a> +old enough to choose, you have chosen for me. You have chosen that +I should marry Kate Roberts. That is the one thing I wished to +speak to you about. The marriage is impossible.”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., half sprang from his seat. He had listened +patiently, he thought, to all that his headstrong son had said, +but that he should repudiate in this unceremonious fashion what +was a tacit understanding between the two families, and, what was +more, run the risk of injuring the Ryder interests—that was +inconceivable. Leaving his desk, he advanced into the centre of +the room, and folding his arms confronted Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“So,” he said sternly, “this is your latest +act of rebellion, is it? You are going to welsh on your word? You +are going to jilt the girl?”</p> + +<p>“I never gave my word,” answered Jefferson hotly. +“Nor did Kate understand that an engagement existed. You +can't expect me to marry a girl I don't care a straw about. It +would not be fair to her.”</p> + +<p>“Have you stopped to think whether it would be fair to +me?” thundered his father.</p> + +<p>His face was pale with anger, his jet-black eyes flashed, and +his white hair seemed to bristle with rage. He paced the floor +for a few moments, and then turning +<a class="pagebreak" name="page217" id="page217" title="217"></a> +to Jefferson, who had not moved, he said more calmly:</p> + +<p>“Don't be a fool, Jeff. I don't want to think for you, or +to choose for you, or to marry for you. I did not interfere when +you threw up the position I made for you in the Trading Company +and took that studio. I realized that you were restless under the +harness, so I gave you plenty of rein. But I know so much better +than you what is best for you. Believe me I do. Don't—don't +be obstinate. This marriage means a great deal to my +interests—to your interests. Kate's father is all powerful +in the Senate. He'll never forgive this disappointment. Hang it +all, you liked the girl once, and I made sure +that—”</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly, and the expression on his face changed as +a new light dawned upon him.</p> + +<p>“It isn't that Rossmore girl, is it?” he demanded. +His face grew dark and his jaw clicked as he said between his +teeth: “I told you some time ago how I felt about her. If I +thought that it was Rossmore's daughter! You know what's going to +happen to him, don't you?”</p> + +<p>Thus appealed to, Jefferson thought this was the most +favourable opportunity he would have to redeem his promise to +Shirley. So, little anticipating the tempest he was about to +unchain, he answered:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page218" id="page218" title="218"></a> +<p>“I am familiar with the charges that they have trumped up +against him. Needless to say, I consider him entirely innocent. +What's more, I firmly believe he is the victim of a contemptible +conspiracy. And I'm going to make it my business to find out who +the plotters are. I came to ask you to help me. Will +you?”</p> + +<p>For a moment Ryder was speechless from utter astonishment. +Then, as he realized the significance of his son's words and their +application to himself he completely lost control of himself. His +face became livid, and he brought his fist down on his desk with a +force that shook the room.</p> + +<p>“I will see him in hell first!” he cried. +“Damn him! He has always opposed me. He has always defied my +power, and now his daughter has entrapped my son. So it's her you +want to go to, eh? Well, I can't make you marry a girl you don't +want, but I can prevent you throwing yourself away on the daughter +of a man who is about to be publicly disgraced, and, by God, I +will.”</p> + +<p>“Poor old Rossmore,” said Jefferson bitterly. +“If the history of every financial transaction were made +known, how many of us would escape public disgrace? Would +you?” he cried.</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., rose, his hands working dangerously. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page219" id="page219" title="219"></a> +He made a movement as if about to advance on his son, but by a +supreme effort he controlled himself.</p> + +<p>“No, upon my word, it's no use disinheriting you, you +wouldn't care. I think you'd be glad; on my soul, I do!” +Then calming down once more, he added: “Jefferson, give me +your word of honour that your object in going away is not to find +out this girl and marry her unknown to me. I don't mind your +losing your heart, but, damn it, don't lose your head. Give me +your hand on it.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson reluctantly held out his hand.</p> + +<p>“If I thought you would marry that girl unknown to me, +I'd have Rossmore sent out of the country and the woman too. +Listen, boy. This man is my enemy, and I show no mercy to my +enemies. There are more reasons than one why you cannot marry Miss +Rossmore. If she knew one of them she would not marry +you.”</p> + +<p>“What reasons?” demanded Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“The principal one,” said Ryder, slowly and +deliberately, and eyeing his son keenly as if to judge of the +effect of his words, “the principal one is that it was +through my agents that the demand was made for her father's +impeachment.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” cried Jefferson, “then I guessed +aright! +<a class="pagebreak" name="page220" id="page220" title="220"></a> +Oh, father, how could you have done that? If you only knew +him!”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., had regained command of his temper, and now spoke +calmly enough.</p> + +<p>“Jefferson, I don't have to make any apologies to you for +the way I conduct my business. The facts contained in the charge +were brought to my attention. I did not see why I should spare +him. He never spared me. I shall not interfere, and the +probabilities are that he will be impeached. Senator Roberts said +this afternoon that it was a certainty. You see yourself how +impossible a marriage with Miss Rossmore would be, don't +you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, father, I see now. I have nothing more to +say.”</p> + +<p>“Do you still intend going away?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Jefferson bitterly. “Why not? +You have taken away the only reason why I should stay.”</p> + +<p>“Think it well over, lad. Marry Kate or not, as you +please, but I want you to stay here.”</p> + +<p>“It's no use. My mind is made up,” answered +Jefferson decisively.</p> + +<p>The telephone rang, and Jefferson got up to go. Mr. Ryder took +up the receiver.</p> + +<p>“Hallo! What's that? Sergeant Ellison? Yes, send him +up.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page221" id="page221" title="221"></a> +<p>Putting the telephone down, Ryder, Sr., rose, and crossing the +room accompanied his son to the door.</p> + +<p>“Think it well over, Jeff. Don't be hasty.”</p> + +<p>“I have thought it over, sir, and I have decided to +go.”</p> + +<p>A few moments later Jefferson left the house.</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., went back to his desk and sat for a moment in deep +thought. For the first time in his life he was face to face with +defeat; for the first time he had encountered a will as strong as +his own. He who could rule parliaments and dictate to governments +now found himself powerless to rule his own son. At all costs, he +mused, the boy's infatuation for Judge Rossmore's daughter must be +checked, even if he had to blacken the girl's character as well as +the father's, or, as a last resort, send the entire family out of +the country. He had not lost sight of his victim since the +carefully prepared crash in Wall Street, and the sale of the +Rossmore home following the bankruptcy of the Great Northwestern +Mining Company. His agents had reported their settlement in the +quiet little village on Long Island, and he had also learned of +Miss Rossmore's arrival from Europe, which coincided strangely +with the home-coming of his own son. He decided, therefore, to +keep a closer watch on Massapequa now than ever, and that is why +to-day's call of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page222" id="page222" title="222"></a> +Sergeant Ellison, a noted sleuth in the government service, found +so ready a welcome.</p> + +<p>The door opened, and Mr. Bagley entered, followed by a tall, +powerfully built man whose robust physique and cheap looking +clothes contrasted strangely with the delicate, ultra-fashionably +attired English secretary.</p> + +<p>“Take a seat, Sergeant,” said Mr. Ryder, cordially +motioning his visitor to a chair. The man sat down gingerly on one +of the rich leather-upholstered chairs. His manner was nervous +and awkward, as if intimidated in the presence of the +financier.</p> + +<p>“Are the Republican Committee still waiting?” +demanded Mr. Ryder.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied the secretary.</p> + +<p>“I'll see them in a few minutes. Leave me with Sergeant +Ellison.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley bowed and retired.</p> + +<p>“Well, Sergeant, what have you got to report?”</p> + +<p>He opened a box of cigars that stood on the desk and held it +out to the detective.</p> + +<p>“Take a cigar,” he said amiably.</p> + +<p>The man took a cigar, and also the match which Mr. Ryder held +out. The financier knew how to be cordial with those who could +serve him.</p> + +<p>“Thanks. This is a good one,” smiled the sleuth, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page223" id="page223" title="223"></a> +sniffing at the weed. “We don't often get a chance at such +as these.”</p> + +<p>“It ought to be good,” laughed Ryder. “They +cost two dollars apiece.”</p> + +<p>The detective was so surprised at this unheard of extravagance +that he inhaled a puff of smoke which almost choked him. It was +like burning money.</p> + +<p>Ryder, with his customary bluntness, came right down to +business.</p> + +<p>“Well, what have you been doing about the book?” he +demanded. “Have you found the author of ‘The American +Octopus’?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I have not. I confess I'm baffled. The secret +has been well kept. The publishers have shut up like a clam. +There's only one thing that I'm pretty well sure of.”</p> + +<p>“What's that?” demanded Ryder, interested.</p> + +<p>“That no such person as Shirley Green exists.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” exclaimed the financier, “then you +think it is a mere <i>nom de plume</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And what do you think was the reason for preserving the +anonymity?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, sir, the book deals with a big subject. +It gives some hard knocks, and the author, no +<a class="pagebreak" name="page224" id="page224" title="224"></a> +doubt, felt a little timid about launching it under his or her +real name. At least that's my theory, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And a good one, no doubt,” said Mr. Ryder. Then he +added: “That makes me all the more anxious to find out who +it is. I would willingly give this moment a check for $5,000 to +know who wrote it. Whoever it is, knows me as well as I know +myself. We must find the author.”</p> + +<p>The sleuth was silent for a moment. Then he said:</p> + +<p>“There might be one way to reach the author, but it will +be successful only in the event of her being willing to be known +and come out into the open. Suppose you write to her in care of +the publishers. They would certainly forward the letter to +wherever she may be. If she does not want you to know who she is +she will ignore your letter and remain in the background. If, on +the contrary, she has no fear of you, and is willing to meet you, +she will answer the letter.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, I never thought of that!” exclaimed Ryder. +“It's a good idea. I'll write such a letter at once. It +shall go to-night.”</p> + +<p>He unhooked the telephone and asked Mr. Bagley to come up. A +few seconds later the secretary entered the room.</p> + +<p>“Bagley,” said Mr. Ryder, “I want you to +write a letter for me to Miss Shirley Green, author of that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page225" id="page225" title="225"></a> +book ‘The American Octopus.’ We will address it care +of her publishers, Littleton & Co. Just say that if convenient +I should like a personal interview with her at my office, No. 36 +Broadway, in relation to her book, ‘The American +Octopus.’ See that it is mailed to-night. That's +all.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley bowed and retired. Mr. Ryder turned to the secret +service agent.</p> + +<p>“There, that's settled. We'll see how it works. And now, +Sergeant, I have another job for you, and if you are faithful to +my interests you will not find me unappreciative. Do you know a +little place on Long Island called Massapequa?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” grinned the detective, “I know it. +They've got some fine specimens of ‘skeeters’ +there.”</p> + +<p>Paying no attention to this jocularity, Mr. Ryder +continued:</p> + +<p>“Judge Rossmore is living there—pending the outcome +of his case in the Senate. His daughter has just arrived from +Europe. My son Jefferson came home on the same ship. They are a +little more friendly than I care to have them. You understand. I +want to know if my son visits the Rossmores, and if he does I wish +to be kept informed of all that's going on. You +understand?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly, sir. You shall know everything.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page226" id="page226" title="226"></a> +<p>Mr. Ryder took a blank check from his desk and proceeded to +fill it up. Then handing it to the detective, he said:</p> + +<p>“Here is $500 for you. Spare neither trouble or +expense.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said the man as he pocketed the +money. “Leave it to me.”</p> + +<p>“That's about all, I think. Regarding the other matter, +we'll see how the letter works.”</p> + +<p>He touched a bell and rose, which was a signal to the visitor +that the interview was at an end. Mr. Bagley entered.</p> + +<p>“Sergeant Ellison is going,” said Mr. Ryder. +“Have him shown out, and send the Republican Committee +up.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page227" id="page227" title="227"></a> +<a name="chapter10" id="chapter10"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Shirley, changing colour, +“you believe that John Burkett Ryder is at the bottom of +this infamous accusation against father?”</p> + +<p>It was the day following her arrival at Massapequa, and +Shirley, the judge and Stott were all three sitting on the porch. +Until now, by common consent, any mention of the impeachment +proceedings had been avoided by everyone. The previous afternoon +and evening had been spent listening to an account of Shirley's +experiences in Europe and a smile had flitted across even the +judge's careworn face as his daughter gave a humorous description +of the picturesque Paris students with their long hair and peg-top +trousers, while Stott simply roared with laughter. Ah, it was good +to laugh again after so much trouble and anxiety! But while +Shirley avoided the topic that lay nearest her heart, she was +consumed with a desire to tell her father of the hope she had of +enlisting the aid of John Burkett Ryder. The great financier was +certainly able to do anything he chose, and had not +<a class="pagebreak" name="page228" id="page228" title="228"></a> +his son Jefferson promised to win him over to their cause? So, +to-day, after Mrs. Rossmore and her sister had gone down to the +village to make some purchases Shirley timidly broached the +matter. She asked Stott and her father to tell her everything, to +hold back nothing. She wanted to hear the worst.</p> + +<p>Stott, therefore, started to review the whole affair from the +beginning, explaining how her father in his capacity as Judge of +the Supreme Court had to render decisions, several of which were +adverse to the corporate interests of a number of rich men, and +how since that time these powerful interests had used all their +influence to get him put off the Bench. He told her about the +Transcontinental case and how the judge had got mysteriously +tangled up in the Great Northern Mining Company, and of the +scandalous newspaper rumours, followed by the news of the +Congressional inquiry. Then he told her about the panic in Wall +Street, the sale of the house on Madison Avenue and the removal to +Long Island.</p> + +<p>“That is the situation,” said Stott when he had +finished. “We are waiting now to see what the Senate will +do. We hope for the best. It seems impossible that the Senate will +condemn a man whose whole life is like an open book, but +unfortunately the Senate is strongly Republican and the big +interests are in complete +<a class="pagebreak" name="page229" id="page229" title="229"></a> +control. Unless support comes from some unexpected quarter we must +be prepared for anything.”</p> + +<p>Support from some unexpected quarter! Stott's closing words +rang in Shirley's head. Was that not just what she had to offer? +Unable to restrain herself longer and her heart beating +tumultuously from suppressed emotion, she cried:</p> + +<p>“We'll have that support! We'll have it! I've got it +already! I wanted to surprise you! Father, the most powerful man +in the United States will save you from being +dishonoured!”</p> + +<p>The two men leaned forward in eager interest. What could the +girl mean? Was she serious or merely jesting?</p> + +<p>But Shirley was never more serious in her life. She was +jubilant at the thought that she had arrived home in time to +invoke the aid of this powerful ally. She repeated +enthusiastically:</p> + +<p>“We need not worry any more. He has but to say a word and +these proceedings will be instantly dropped. They would not dare +act against his veto. Did you hear, father, your case is as good +as won!”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, child? Who is this unknown +friend?”</p> + +<p>“Surely you can guess when I say the most powerful +<a class="pagebreak" name="page230" id="page230" title="230"></a> +man in the United States? None other than John Burkett +Ryder!”</p> + +<p>She stopped short to watch the effect which this name would +have on her hearers. But to her surprise neither her father nor +Stott displayed the slightest emotion or even interest. Puzzled at +this cold reception, she repeated:</p> + +<p>“Did you hear, father—John Burkett Ryder will come +to your assistance. I came home on the same ship as his son and he +promised to secure his father's aid.”</p> + +<p>The judge puffed heavily at his pipe and merely shook his head, +making no reply. Stott explained:</p> + +<p>“We can't look for help from that quarter, Shirley. You +don't expect a man to cut loose his own kite, do you?”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” demanded Shirley, +mystified.</p> + +<p>“Simply this—that John Burkett Ryder is the very +man who is responsible for all your father's +misfortunes.”</p> + +<p>The girl sank back in her seat pale and motionless, as if she +had received a blow. Was it possible? Could Jefferson's father +have done them such a wrong as this? She well knew that Ryder, +Sr., was a man who would stop at nothing to accomplish his +purpose—this +<a class="pagebreak" name="page231" id="page231" title="231"></a> +she had demonstrated conclusively in her book—but she had +never dreamed that his hand would ever be directed against her own +flesh and blood. Decidedly some fatality was causing Jefferson and +herself to drift further and further apart. First, her father's +trouble. That alone would naturally have separated them. And now +this discovery that Jefferson's father had done hers this wrong. +All idea of marriage was henceforth out of the question. That was +irrevocable. Of course, she could not hold Jefferson to blame for +methods which he himself abhorred. She would always think as much +of him as ever, but whether her father emerged safely from the +trial in the Senate or not—no matter what the outcome of the +impeachment proceedings might be, Jefferson could never be +anything else than a Ryder and from now on there would be an +impassable gulf between the Rossmores and the Ryders. The dove +does not mate with the hawk.</p> + +<p>“Do you really believe this, that John Ryder deliberately +concocted the bribery charge with the sole purpose of ruining my +father?” demanded Shirley when she had somewhat +recovered.</p> + +<p>“There is no other solution of the mystery +possible,” answered Stott. “The Trusts found they +could not fight him in the open, in a fair, honest way, so +<a class="pagebreak" name="page232" id="page232" title="232"></a> +they plotted in the dark. Ryder was the man who had most to lose +by your father's honesty on the bench. Ryder was the man he hit +the hardest when he enjoined his Transcontinental Railroad. Ryder, +I am convinced, is the chief conspirator.”</p> + +<p>“But can such things be in a civilized community?” +cried Shirley indignantly. “Cannot he be exposed, won't the +press take the matter up, cannot we show conspiracy?”</p> + +<p>“It sounds easy, but it isn't,” replied Stott. +“I have had a heap of experience with the law, my child, and +I know what I'm talking about. They're too clever to be caught +tripping. They've covered their tracks well, be sure of that. As +to the newspapers—when did you ever hear of them championing +a man when he's down?”</p> + +<p>“And you, father—do you believe Ryder did +this?”</p> + +<p>“I have no longer any doubt of it,” answered the +judge. “I think John Ryder would see me dead before he would +raise a finger to help me. His answer to my demand for my letters +convinced me that he was the arch plotter.”</p> + +<p>“What letters do you refer to?” demanded +Shirley.</p> + +<p>“The letters I wrote to him in regard to my making an +investment. He advised the purchase of certain stock. I wrote him +two letters at the time, which letters +<a class="pagebreak" name="page233" id="page233" title="233"></a> +if I had them now would go a long way to clearing me of this +charge of bribery, for they plainly showed that I regarded the +transaction as a <i>bona fide</i> investment. Since this trouble +began I wrote to Ryder asking him to return me these letters so I +might use them in my defence. The only reply I got was an insolent +note from his secretary saying that Mr. Ryder had forgotten all +about the transaction, and in any case had not the letters I +referred to.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn't you compel him to return them?” asked +Shirley.</p> + +<p>“We could never get at him,” interrupted Stott. +“The man is guarded as carefully as the Czar.”</p> + +<p>“Still,” objected Shirley, “it is possible +that he may have lost the letters or even never received +them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he has them safe enough,” replied Stott. +“A man like Ryder keeps every scrap of paper, with the idea +that it may prove useful some day. The letters are lying somewhere +in his desk. Besides, after the Transcontinental decision he was +heard to say that he'd have Judge Rossmore off the Bench inside of +a year.”</p> + +<p>“And it wasn't a vain boast—he's done it,” +muttered the judge.</p> + +<p>Shirley relapsed into silence. Her brain was in a whirl. It was +true then. This merciless man of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page234" id="page234" title="234"></a> +money, this ogre of monopolistic corporations, this human +juggernaut had crushed her father merely because by his honesty he +interfered with his shady business deals! Ah, why had she spared +him in her book? She felt now that she had been too lenient, not +bitter enough, not sufficiently pitiless. Such a man was entitled +to no mercy. Yes, it was all clear enough now. John Burkett +Ryder, the head of “the System,” the plutocrat whose +fabulous fortune gave him absolute control over the entire +country, which invested him with a personal power greater than +that of any king, this was the man who now dared attack the +Judiciary, the corner stone of the Constitution, the one safeguard +of the people's liberty. Where would it end? How long would the +nation tolerate being thus ruthlessly trodden under the unclean +heels of an insolent oligarchy? The capitalists, banded together +for the sole purpose of pillage and loot, had already succeeded in +enslaving the toiler. The appalling degradation of the working +classes, the sordidness and demoralizing squalor in which they +passed their lives, the curse of drink, the provocation to crime, +the shame of the sweat shops—all which evils in our social +system she had seen as a Settlement worker, were directly +traceable to Centralized Wealth. The labor unions regulated wages +and hours, but they were powerless to +<a class="pagebreak" name="page235" id="page235" title="235"></a> +control the prices of the necessaries of life. The Trusts could at +pleasure create famine or plenty. They usually willed to make it +famine so they themselves might acquire more millions with which +to pay for marble palaces, fast motor cars, ocean-going yachts and +expensive establishments at Newport. Food was ever dearer and of +poorer quality, clothes cost more, rents and taxes were higher. +She thought of the horrors in the packing houses at Chicago +recently made the subject of a sensational government +report—putrid, pestiferous meats put up for human food amid +conditions of unspeakable foulness, freely exposed to deadly germs +from the expectorations of work people suffering from +tuberculosis, in unsanitary rotten buildings soaked through with +blood and every conceivable form of filth and decay, the beef +barons careless and indifferent to the dictates of common decency +so long as they could make more money. And while our public gasped +in disgust at the sickening revelations of the Beef scandal and +foreign countries quickly cancelled their contracts for American +prepared meats, the millionaire packer, insolent in the possession +of wealth stolen from a poisoned public, impudently appeared in +public in his fashionable touring car, with head erect and +self-satisfied, wholly indifferent to his shame.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page236" id="page236" title="236"></a> +<p>These and other evidences of the plutocracy's cruel grip upon +the nation had ended by exasperating the people. There must be a +limit somewhere to the turpitudes of a degenerate class of +<i>nouveaux riches</i>. The day of reckoning was fast approaching +for the grafters and among the first to taste the vengeance of the +people would be the Colossus. But while waiting for the people to +rise in their righteous wrath, Ryder was all powerful, and if it +were true that he had instituted these impeachment proceedings her +father had little chance. What could be done? They could not sit +and wait, as Stott had said, for the action of the Senate. If it +were true that Ryder controlled the Senate as he controlled +everything else her father was doomed. No, they must find some +other way.</p> + +<p>And long after the judge and Stott had left for the city +Shirley sat alone on the porch engrossed in thought, taxing her +brain to find some way out of the darkness. And when presently her +mother and aunt returned they found her still sitting there, +silent and preoccupied. If they only had those two letters, she +thought. They alone might save her father. But how could they be +got at? Mr. Ryder had put them safely away, no doubt. He would not +give them up. She wondered how it would be to go boldly to him +appeal to whatever sense of honour and fairness that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page237" id="page237" title="237"></a> +might be lying latent within him. No, such a man would not know +what the terms “honour,” “fairness” meant. +She pondered upon it all day and at night when she went tired to +bed it was her last thought as she dropped off to sleep.</p> + +<p>The following morning broke clear and fine. It was one of those +glorious, ideal days of which we get perhaps half a dozen during +the whole summer, days when the air is cool and bracing, +champagne-like in its exhilarating effect, and when Nature dons +her brightest dress, when the atmosphere is purer, the grass +greener, the sky bluer, the flowers sweeter and the birds sing in +more joyous chorus, when all creation seems in tune. Days that +make living worth while, when one can forget the ugliness, the +selfishness, the empty glitter of the man-made city and walk erect +and buoyant in the open country as in the garden of God.</p> + +<p>Shirley went out for a long walk. She preferred to go alone so +she would not have to talk. Hers was one of those lonely, +introspective natures that resent the intrusion of aimless chatter +when preoccupied with serious thoughts. Long Island was unknown +territory to her and it all looked very flat and uninteresting, +but she loved the country and found keen delight in the fresh, +pure air and the sweet scent of new mown hay wafted from the +surrounding fields. In her soft, loose-fitting +<a class="pagebreak" name="page238" id="page238" title="238"></a> +linen dress, her white canvas shoes, garden hat trimmed with red +roses, and lace parasol, she made an attractive picture and every +passer-by—with the exception of one old farmer and he was +half blind—turned to look at this good-looking girl, a +stranger in those parts and whose stylish appearance suggested +Fifth Avenue rather than the commonplace purlieus of +Massapequa.</p> + +<p>Every now and then Shirley espied in the distance the figure of +a man which she thought she recognized as that of Jefferson. Had +he come, after all? The blood went coursing tumultuously through +her veins only a moment later to leave her face a shade paler as +the man came nearer and she saw he was a stranger. She wondered +what he was doing, if he gave her a thought, if he had spoken to +his father and what the latter had said. She could realize now +what Mr. Ryder's reply had been. Then she wondered what her +future life would be. She could do nothing, of course, until the +Senate had passed upon her father's case, but it was imperative +that she get to work. In a day or two, she would call on her +publishers and learn how her book was selling. She might get other +commissions. If she could not make enough money in literary work +she would have to teach. It was a dreary outlook at best, and she +sighed as she thought of the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page239" id="page239" title="239"></a> +ambitions that had once stirred her breast. All the brightness +seemed to have gone out of her life, her father disgraced, +Jefferson now practically lost to her—only her work +remained.</p> + +<p>As she neared the cottage on her return home she caught sight +of the letter carrier approaching the gate. Instantly she thought +of Jefferson, and she hurried to intercept the man. Perhaps he had +written instead of coming.</p> + +<p>“Miss Shirley Rossmore?” said the man eyeing her +interrogatively.</p> + +<p>“That's I,” said Shirley.</p> + +<p>The postman handed her a letter and passed on. Shirley glanced +quickly at the superscription. No, it was not from Jefferson; she +knew his handwriting too well. The envelope, moreover, bore the +firm name of her publishers. She tore it open and found that it +merely contained another letter which the publishers had +forwarded. This was addressed to Miss Shirley Green and ran as +follows:</p> + +<blockquote><i>Dear Madam.</i>—If convenient, I should like +to see you at my office, No. 36 Broadway, in relation to your book +“The American Octopus.” Kindly inform me as to the day +and hour at which I may expect you.</blockquote> +<blockquote class="closing">Yours truly,</blockquote> +<blockquote class="signature"> +<span class="sc">John Burkett Ryder,</span></blockquote> +<blockquote class="right">per B.</blockquote> + +<p>Shirley almost shouted from sheer excitement. At +<a class="pagebreak" name="page240" id="page240" title="240"></a> +first she was alarmed—the name John Burkett Ryder was such a +bogey to frighten bad children with, she thought he might want to +punish her for writing about him as she had. She hurried to the +porch and sat there reading the letter over and over and her brain +began to evolve ideas. She had been wondering how she could get at +Mr. Ryder and here he was actually asking her to call on him. +Evidently he had not the slightest idea of her identity, for he +had been able to reach her only through her publishers and no +doubt he had exhausted every other means of discovering her +address. The more she pondered over it the more she began to see +in this invitation a way of helping her father. Yes, she would go +and beard the lion in his den, but she would not go to his office. +She would accept the invitation only on condition that the +interview took place in the Ryder mansion where undoubtedly the +letters would be found. She decided to act immediately. No time +was to be lost, so she procured a sheet of paper and an envelope +and wrote as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><span class="sc">Mr. John Burkett Ryder,</span></blockquote> +<blockquote><i>Dear Sir.</i>—I do not call upon gentlemen at +their business office.</blockquote> +<blockquote class="closing">Yours, etc.,</blockquote> +<blockquote class="signature"> +<span class="sc">Shirley Green.</span></blockquote> + +<p>Her letter was abrupt and at first glance seemed hardly +calculated to bring about what she wanted—an +<a class="pagebreak" name="page241" id="page241" title="241"></a> +invitation to call at the Ryder home, but she was shrewd enough to +see that if Ryder wrote to her at all it was because he was most +anxious to see her and her abruptness would not deter him from +trying again. On the contrary, the very unusualness of anyone +thus dictating to him would make him more than ever desirous of +making her acquaintance. So Shirley mailed the letter and awaited +with confidence for Ryder's reply. So certain was she that one +would come that she at once began to form her plan of action. She +would leave Massapequa at once, and her whereabouts must remain a +secret even from her own family. As she intended to go to the +Ryder house in the assumed character of Shirley Green, it would +never do to run the risk of being followed home by a Ryder +detective to the Rossmore cottage. She would confide in one person +only—Judge Stott. He would know where she was and would be +in constant communication with her. But, otherwise, she must be +alone to conduct the campaign as she judged fit. She would go at +once to New York and take rooms in a boarding house where she +would be known as Shirley Green. As for funds to meet her +expenses, she had her diamonds, and would they not be filling a +more useful purpose if sold to defray the cost of saving her +father than in mere personal adornment? So that evening, while her +<a class="pagebreak" name="page242" id="page242" title="242"></a> +mother was talking with the judge, she beckoned Stott over to the +corner where she was sitting:</p> + +<p>“Judge Stott,” she began, “I have a +plan.”</p> + +<p>He smiled indulgently at her.</p> + +<p>“Another friend like that of yesterday?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the girl, “listen. I am in +earnest now and I want you to help me. You said that no one on +earth could resist John Burkett Ryder, that no one could fight +against the Money Power. Well, do you know what I am going to +do?”</p> + +<p>There was a quiver in her voice and her nostrils were dilated +like those of a thoroughbred eager to run the race. She had risen +from her seat and stood facing him, her fists clenched, her face +set and determined. Stott had never seen her in this mood and he +gazed at her half admiringly, half curiously.</p> + +<p>“What will you do?” he asked with a slightly +ironical inflection in his voice.</p> + +<p>“I am going to fight John Burkett Ryder!” she +cried.</p> + +<p>Stott looked at her open-mouthed.</p> + +<p>“You?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I,” said Shirley. “I'm going to him and +I intend to get those letters if he has them.”</p> + +<p>Stott shook his head.</p> + +<a name="photo3" id="photo3"></a> +<blockquote class="illustration"><a href="images/photo3.jpg"> +<img src="images/photo3.png" width="449" height="264" +alt="[Photo, from the play, +of Shirley discussing her book with Mr. Ryder]" /></a></blockquote> +<blockquote class="central">“How do you classify +him?”<br />“As the greatest criminal the world has +ever produced.”—Act III.</blockquote> + +<p>“My dear child,” he said, “what are you talking +<a class="pagebreak" name="page243" id="page243" title="243"></a> +about? How can you expect to reach Ryder? We couldn't.”</p> + +<p>“I don't know just how yet,” replied Shirley, +“but I'm going to try. I love my father and I'm going to +leave nothing untried to save him.”</p> + +<p>“But what can you do?” persisted Stott. “The +matter has been sifted over and over by some of the greatest minds +in the country.”</p> + +<p>“Has any woman sifted it over?” demanded +Shirley.</p> + +<p>“No, but—” stammered Stott.</p> + +<p>“Then it's about time one did,” said the girl +decisively. “Those letters my father speaks of—they +would be useful, would they not?”</p> + +<p>“They would be invaluable.”</p> + +<p>“Then I'll get them. If not—”</p> + +<p>“But I don't understand how you're going to get at +Ryder,” interrupted Stott.</p> + +<p>“This is how,” replied Shirley, passing over to him +the letter she had received that afternoon.</p> + +<p>As Stott recognized the well-known signature and read the +contents the expression of his face changed. He gasped for breath +and sank into a chair from sheer astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Ah, that's different!” he cried, “that's +different!”</p> + +<p>Briefly Shirley outlined her plan, explaining that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page244" id="page244" title="244"></a> +she would go to live in the city immediately and conduct her +campaign from there. If she was successful it might save her +father and if not no harm could come of it.</p> + +<p>Stott demurred at first. He did not wish to bear alone the +responsibility of such an adventure. There was no knowing what +might happen to her, visiting a strange house under an assumed +name. But when he saw how thoroughly in earnest she was and that +she was ready to proceed without him he capitulated. He agreed +that she might be able to find the missing letters or if not that +she might make some impression on Ryder himself. She could show +interest in the judge's case as a disinterested outsider and so +might win his sympathies. From being a sceptic, Stott now became +enthusiastic. He promised to co-operate in every way and to keep +Shirley's whereabouts an absolute secret. The girl, therefore, +began to make her preparations for departure from home by telling +her parents that she had accepted an invitation to spend a week or +two with an old college chum in New York.</p> + +<p>That same evening her mother, the judge, and Stott went for a +stroll after dinner and left her to take care of the house. They +had wanted Shirley to go, too, but she pleaded fatigue. The truth +was that she wanted to be alone so she could ponder undisturbed +<a class="pagebreak" name="page245" id="page245" title="245"></a> +over her plans. It was a clear, starlit night, with no moon, and +Shirley sat on the porch listening to the chirping of the crickets +and idly watching the flashes of the mysterious fireflies. She was +in no mood for reading and sat for a long time rocking herself +engrossed in her thoughts. Suddenly she heard someone unfasten the +garden gate. It was too soon for the return of the promenaders; it +must be a visitor. Through the uncertain penumbra of the garden +she discerned approaching a form which looked familiar. Yes, now +there was no doubt possible. It was, indeed, Jefferson Ryder.</p> + +<p>She hurried down the porch to greet him. No matter what the +father had done she could never think any the less of the son. He +took her hand and for several moments neither one spoke. There are +times when silence is more eloquent than speech and this was one +of them. The gentle grip of his big strong hand expressed more +tenderly than any words the sympathy that lay in his heart for the +woman he loved. Shirley said quietly:</p> + +<p>“You have come at last, Jefferson.”</p> + +<p>“I came as soon as I could,” he replied gently. +“I saw father only yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“You need not tell me what he said,” Shirley +hastened to say.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page246" id="page246" title="246"></a> +<p>Jefferson made no reply. He understood what she meant. He hung +his head and hit viciously with his walking stick at the pebbles +that lay at his feet. She went on:</p> + +<p>“I know everything now. It was foolish of me to think +that Mr. Ryder would ever help us.”</p> + +<p>“I can't help it in any way,” blurted out +Jefferson. “I have not the slightest influence over him. +His business methods I consider disgraceful—you understand +that, don't you, Shirley?”</p> + +<p>The girl laid her hand on his arm and replied kindly:</p> + +<p>“Of course, Jeff, we know that. Come up and sit +down.”</p> + +<p>He followed her on the porch and drew up a rocker beside +her.</p> + +<p>“They are all out for a walk,” she explained.</p> + +<p>“I'm glad,” he said frankly. “I wanted a +quiet talk with you. I did not care to meet anyone. My name must +be odious to your people.”</p> + +<p>Both were silent, feeling a certain awkwardness. They seemed +to have drifted apart in some way since those delightful days in +Paris and on the ship. Then he said:</p> + +<p>“I'm going away, but I couldn't go until I saw +you.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page247" id="page247" title="247"></a> +<p>“You are going away?” exclaimed Shirley, +surprised.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “I cannot stand it any more +at home. I had a hot talk with my father yesterday about one thing +and another. He and I don't chin well together. Besides this +matter of your father's impeachment has completely discouraged me. +All the wealth in the world could never reconcile me to such +methods! I'm ashamed of the rôle my own flesh and blood has +played in that miserable affair. I can't express what I feel about +it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” sighed Shirley, “it is hard to believe +that you are the son of that man!”</p> + +<p>“How is your father?” inquired Jefferson. +“How does he take it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, his heart beats and he can see and hear and +speak,” replied Shirley sadly, “but he is only a +shadow of what he once was. If the trial goes against him, I don't +think he'll survive it.”</p> + +<p>“It is monstrous,” cried Jefferson. “To think +that my father should be responsible for this thing!”</p> + +<p>“We are still hoping for the best,” added Shirley, +“but the outlook is dark.”</p> + +<p>“But what are you going to do?” he asked. +“These surroundings are not for you—” He looked +around +<a class="pagebreak" name="page248" id="page248" title="248"></a> +at the cheap furnishings which he could see through the open +window and his face showed real concern.</p> + +<p>“I shall teach or write, or go out as governess,” +replied Shirley with a tinge of bitterness. Then smiling sadly she +added: “Poverty is easy; it is unmerited disgrace which is +hard.”</p> + +<p>The young man drew his chair closer and took hold of the hand +that lay in her lap. She made no resistance.</p> + +<p>“Shirley,” he said, “do you remember that +talk we had on the ship? I asked you to be my wife. You led me to +believe that you were not indifferent to me. I ask you again to +marry me. Give me the right to take care of you and yours. I am +the son of the world's richest man, but I don't want his money. I +have earned a competence of my own—enough to live on +comfortably. We will go away where you and your father and mother +will make their home with us. Do not let the sins of the fathers +embitter the lives of the children.”</p> + +<p>“Mine has not sinned,” said Shirley bitterly.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could say the same of mine,” replied +Jefferson. “It is because the clouds are dark about you +that I want to come into your life to comfort you.”</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No, Jefferson, the circumstances make such a marriage +<a class="pagebreak" name="page249" id="page249" title="249"></a> +impossible. Your family and everybody else would say that I had +inveigled you into it. It is even more impossible now than I +thought it was when I spoke to you on the ship. Then I was worried +about my father's trouble and could give no thought to anything +else. Now it is different. Your father's action has made our union +impossible for ever. I thank you for the honour you have done me. +I do like you. I like you well enough to be your wife, but I will +not accept this sacrifice on your part. Your offer, coming at such +a critical time, is dictated only by your noble, generous nature, +by your sympathy for our misfortune. Afterwards, you might regret +it. If my father were convicted and driven from the bench and you +found you had married the daughter of a disgraced man you would be +ashamed of us all, and if I saw that it would break my +heart.”</p> + +<p>Emotion stopped her utterance and she buried her face in her +hands weeping silently.</p> + +<p>“Shirley,” said Jefferson gently, “you are +wrong. I love you for yourself, not because of your trouble. You +know that. I shall never love any other woman but you. If you will +not say ‘yes’ now, I shall go away as I told my father +I would and one day I shall come back and then if you are still +single I shall ask you again to be my wife.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page250" id="page250" title="250"></a> +<p>“Where are you going?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“I shall travel for a year and then, may be, I shall stay +a couple of years in Paris, studying at the Beaux Arts. Then I may +go to Rome. If I am to do anything worth while in the career I +have chosen I must have that European training.”</p> + +<p>“Paris! Rome!” echoed Shirley. “How I envy +you! Yes, you are right. Get away from this country where the only +topic, the only thought is money, where the only incentive to work +is dollars. Go where there are still some ideals, where you can +breathe the atmosphere of culture and art.”</p> + +<p>Forgetting momentarily her own troubles, Shirley chatted on +about life in the art centres of Europe, advised Jefferson where +to go, with whom to study. She knew people in Paris, Rome and +Munich and she would give him letters to them. Only, if he wanted +to perfect himself in the languages, he ought to avoid Americans +and cultivate the natives. Then, who could tell? if he worked hard +and was lucky, he might have something exhibited at the Salon and +return to America a famous painter.</p> + +<p>“If I do,” smiled Jefferson, “you shall be +the first to congratulate me. I shall come and ask you to be my +wife. May I?” he added,</p> + +<p>Shirley smiled gravely.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page251" id="page251" title="251"></a> +<p>“Get famous first. You may not want me then.”</p> + +<p>“I shall always want you,” he whispered hoarsely, +bending over her. In the dim light of the porch he saw that her +tear-stained face was drawn and pale. He rose and held out his +hand.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” he said simply.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Jefferson.” She rose and put her hand in +his. “We shall always be friends. I, too, am going +away.”</p> + +<p>“You going away—where to?” he asked +surprised.</p> + +<p>“I have work to do in connection with my father's +case,” she said.</p> + +<p>“You?” said Jefferson puzzled. “You have work +to do—what work?”</p> + +<p>“I can't say what it is, Jefferson. There are good +reasons why I can't. You must take my word for it that it is +urgent and important work.” Then she added: “You go +your way, Jefferson; I will go mine. It was not our destiny to +belong to each other. You will become famous as an artist. And +I—”</p> + +<p>“And you—” echoed Jefferson.</p> + +<a name="typo3" id="typo3"></a> +<p>“I—I shall devote my life to my father. It's no +use, Jefferson—really—I've thought it all out. You +must not come back to me—you understand. We must be alone +with our grief—father and I. Good-bye.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page252" id="page252" title="252"></a> +<p>He raised her hand to his lips.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Shirley. Don't forget me. I shall come back +for you.”</p> + +<p>He went down the porch and she watched him go out of the gate +and down the road until she could see his figure no longer. Then +she turned back and sank into her chair and burying her face in +her handkerchief she gave way to a torrent of tears which afforded +some relief to the weight on her heart. Presently the others +returned from their walk and she told them about the visitor.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ryder's son, Jefferson, was here. We crossed on the +same ship. I introduced him to Judge Stott on the dock.”</p> + +<p>The judge looked surprised, but he merely said:</p> + +<p>“I hope for his sake that he is a different man from his +father.”</p> + +<p>“He is,” replied Shirley simply, and nothing more +was said.</p> + +<p>Two days went by, during which Shirley went on completing the +preparations for her visit to New York. It was arranged that +Stott should escort her to the city. Shortly before they started +for the train a letter arrived for Shirley. Like the first one it +had been forwarded by her publishers. It read as follows:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page253" id="page253" title="253"></a> +<blockquote><span class="sc">Miss Shirley Green,</span></blockquote> +<blockquote><i>Dear Madam.</i>—I shall be happy to see you +at my residence—Fifth Avenue—any afternoon that you +will mention.</blockquote> +<blockquote class="closing">Yours very truly,</blockquote> +<blockquote class="signature"> +<span class="sc">John Burkett Ryder,</span></blockquote> +<blockquote class="right">per B.</blockquote> + +<p>Shirley smiled in triumph as, unseen by her father and mother, +she passed it over to Stott. She at once sat down and wrote this +reply:</p> + +<blockquote><span class="sc">Mr. John Burkett Ryder,</span></blockquote> +<blockquote><i>Dear Sir.</i>—I am sorry that I am unable to +comply with your request. I prefer the invitation to call at your +private residence should come from Mrs. Ryder.</blockquote> +<blockquote class="closing">Yours, etc.,</blockquote> +<blockquote class="signature"> +<span class="sc">Shirley Green.</span></blockquote> + +<p>She laughed as she showed this to Stott:</p> + +<p>“He'll write me again,” she said, “and next +time his wife will sign the letter.”</p> + +<p>An hour later she left Massapequa for the city.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page254" id="page254" title="254"></a> +<a name="chapter11" id="chapter11"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p>The Hon. Fitzroy Bagley had every reason to feel satisfied with +himself. His <i>affaire de cœur</i> with the Senator's +daughter was progressing more smoothly than ever, and nothing now +seemed likely to interfere with his carefully prepared plans to +capture an American heiress. The interview with Kate Roberts in +the library, so awkwardly disturbed by Jefferson's unexpected +intrusion, had been followed by other interviews more secret and +more successful, and the plausible secretary had contrived so well +to persuade the girl that he really thought the world of her, and +that a brilliant future awaited her as his wife, that it was not +long before he found her in a mood to refuse him nothing.</p> + +<p>Bagley urged immediate marriage; he insinuated that Jefferson +had treated her shamefully and that she owed it to herself to show +the world that there were other men as good as the one who had +jilted her. He argued that in view of the Senator being bent on +the match with Ryder's son it would be worse than useless for him, +Bagley, to make formal application +<a class="pagebreak" name="page255" id="page255" title="255"></a> +for her hand, so, as he explained, the only thing which remained +was a runaway marriage. Confronted with the <i>fait accompli</i>, +papa Roberts would bow to the inevitable. They could get married +quietly in town, go away for a short trip, and when the Senator +had gotten over his first disappointment they would be welcomed +back with open arms.</p> + +<p>Kate listened willingly enough to this specious reasoning. In +her heart she was piqued at Jefferson's indifference and she was +foolish enough to really believe that this marriage with a British +nobleman, twice removed, would be in the nature of a triumph over +him. Besides, this project of an elopement appealed strangely to +her frivolous imagination; it put her in the same class as all her +favourite novel heroines. And it would be capital fun!</p> + +<p>Meantime, Senator Roberts, in blissful ignorance of this little +plot against his domestic peace, was growing impatient and he +approached his friend Ryder once more on the subject of his son +Jefferson. The young man, he said, had been back from Europe some +time. He insisted on knowing what his attitude was towards his +daughter. If they were engaged to be married he said there should +be a public announcement of the fact. It was unfair to him and a +slight to his daughter to let matters hang fire in this +unsatisfactory way and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page256" id="page256" title="256"></a> +he hinted that both himself and his daughter might demand their +passports from the Ryder mansion unless some explanation were +forthcoming.</p> + +<p>Ryder was in a quandary. He had no wish to quarrel with his +useful Washington ally; he recognized the reasonableness of his +complaint. Yet what could he do? Much as he himself desired the +marriage, his son was obstinate and showed little inclination to +settle down. He even hinted at attractions in another quarter. He +did not tell the Senator of his recent interview with his son when +the latter made it very plain that the marriage could never take +place. Ryder, Sr., had his own reasons for wishing to temporize. +It was quite possible that Jefferson might change his mind and +abandon his idea of going abroad and he suggested to the Senator +that perhaps if he, the Senator, made the engagement public +through the newspapers it might have the salutary effect of +forcing his son's hand.</p> + +<p>So a few mornings later there appeared among the society notes +in several of the New York papers this paragraph:</p> + +<blockquote> “The engagement is announced of Miss Katherine +Roberts, only daughter of senator Roberts of Wisconsin, to +Jefferson Ryder, son of Mr. John Burkett +Ryder.”</blockquote> + +<p>Two persons in New York happened to see the item about the same +time and both were equally interested, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page257" id="page257" title="257"></a> +although it affected them in a different manner. One was Shirley +Rossmore, who had chanced to pick up the newspaper at the +breakfast table in her boarding house.</p> + +<p>“So soon?” she murmured to herself. Well, why not? +She could not blame Jefferson. He had often spoken to her of this +match arranged by his father and they had laughed over it as a +typical marriage of convenience modelled after the Continental +pattern. Jefferson, she knew, had never cared for the girl nor +taken the affair seriously. Some powerful influences must have +been at work to make him surrender so easily. Here again she +recognized the masterly hand of Ryder, Sr., and more than ever she +was eager to meet this extraordinary man and measure her strength +with his. Her mind, indeed, was too full of her father's troubles +to grieve over her own however much she might have been inclined +to do so under other circumstances, and all that day she did her +best to banish the paragraph from her thoughts. More than a week +had passed since she left Massapequa and what with corresponding +with financiers, calling on editors and publishers, every moment +of her time had been kept busy. She had found a quiet and +reasonable priced boarding house off Washington Square and here +Stott had called several times to see her. Her correspondence with +<a class="pagebreak" name="page258" id="page258" title="258"></a> +Mr. Ryder had now reached a phase when it was impossible to invent +any further excuses for delaying the interview asked for. As she +had foreseen, a day or two after her arrival in town she had +received a note from Mrs. Ryder asking her to do her the honour to +call and see her, and Shirley, after waiting another two days, had +replied making an appointment for the following day at three +o'clock. This was the same day on which the paragraph concerning +the Ryder-Roberts engagement appeared in the society chronicles of +the metropolis.</p> + +<p>Directly after the meagre meal which in New York boarding +houses is dignified by the name of luncheon, Shirley proceeded to +get ready for this portentous visit to the Ryder mansion. She was +anxious to make a favourable impression on the financier, so she +took some pains with her personal appearance. She always looked +stylish, no matter what she wore, and her poverty was of too +recent date to make much difference to her wardrobe, which was +still well supplied with Paris-made gowns. She selected a simple +close-fitting gown of gray chiffon cloth and a picture hat of +Leghorn straw heaped with red roses, Shirley's favourite flower. +Thus arrayed, she sallied forth at two o'clock—a little gray +mouse to do battle with the formidable lion.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page259" id="page259" title="259"></a> +<p>The sky was threatening, so instead of walking a short way up +Fifth Avenue for exercise, as she had intended doing, she cut +across town through Ninth Street, and took the surface car on +Fourth Avenue. This would put her down at Madison Avenue and +Seventy-fourth Street, which was only a block from the Ryder +residence. She looked so pretty and was so well dressed that the +passers-by who looked after her wondered why she did not take a +cab instead of standing on a street corner for a car. But one's +outward appearance is not always a faithful index to the condition +of one's pocketbook, and Shirley was rapidly acquiring the art of +economy.</p> + +<p>It was not without a certain trepidation that she began this +journey. So far, all her plans had been based largely on theory, +but now that she was actually on her way to Mr. Ryder all sorts of +misgivings beset her. Suppose he knew her by sight and roughly +accused her of obtaining access to his house under false pretences +and then had her ejected by the servants? How terrible and +humiliating that would be! And even if he did not how could she +possibly find those letters with him watching her, and all in the +brief time of a conventional afternoon call? It had been an absurd +idea from the first. Stott was right; she saw that now. But she +had entered upon it and she was not going to +<a class="pagebreak" name="page260" id="page260" title="260"></a> +confess herself beaten until she had tried. And as the car sped +along Madison Avenue, gradually drawing nearer to the house which +she was going to enter disguised as it were, like a burglar, she +felt cold chills run up and down her spine—the same +sensation that one experiences when one rings the bell of a +dentist's where one has gone to have a tooth extracted. In fact, +she felt so nervous and frightened that if she had not been +ashamed before herself she would have turned back. In about twenty +minutes the car stopped at the corner of Seventy-fourth Street. +Shirley descended and with a quickened pulse walked towards the +Ryder mansion, which she knew well by sight.</p> + +<br /> + +<p>There was one other person in New York who, that same morning, +had read the newspaper item regarding the Ryder-Roberts betrothal, +and he did not take the matter so calmly as Shirley had done. On +the contrary, it had the effect of putting him into a violent +rage. This was Jefferson. He was working in his studio when he +read it and five minutes later he was tearing up-town to seek the +author of it. He understood its object, of course; they wanted to +force his hand, to shame him into this marriage, to so entangle +him with the girl that no other alternative would be possible to +an honourable man. It was a despicable +<a class="pagebreak" name="page261" id="page261" title="261"></a> +trick and he had no doubt that his father was at the back of it. +So his mind now was fully made up. He would go away at once where +they could not make his life a burden with this odious marriage +which was fast becoming a nightmare to him. He would close up his +studio and leave immediately for Europe. He would show his father +once for all that he was a man and expected to be treated as +one.</p> + +<p>He wondered what Shirley was doing. Where had she gone, what +was this mysterious work of which she had spoken? He only realized +now, when she seemed entirely beyond his reach, how much he loved +her and how empty his life would be without her. He would know no +happiness until she was his wife. Her words on the porch did not +discourage him. Under the circumstances he could not expect her to +have said anything else. She could not marry into John Ryder's +family with such a charge hanging over her own father's head, but, +later, when the trial was over, no matter how it turned out, he +would go to her again and ask her to be his wife.</p> + +<p>On arriving home the first person he saw was the ubiquitous Mr. +Bagley, who stood at the top of the first staircase giving some +letters to the butler. Jefferson cornered him at once, holding out +the newspaper containing the offending paragraph.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page262" id="page262" title="262"></a> +<p>“Say, Bagley,” he cried, “what does this +mean? Is this any of your doing?”</p> + +<p>The English secretary gave his employer's son a haughty stare, +and then, without deigning to reply or even to glance at the +newspaper, continued his instructions to the servant:</p> + +<p>“Here, Jorkins, get stamps for all these letters and see +they are mailed at once. They are very important.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir.”</p> + +<p>The man took the letters and disappeared, while Jefferson, +impatient, repeated his question:</p> + +<p>“My doing?” sneered Mr. Bagley. “Really, +Jefferson, you go too far! Do you suppose for one instant that I +would condescend to trouble myself with your affairs?”</p> + +<p>Jefferson was in no mood to put up with insolence from anyone, +especially from a man whom he heartily despised, so advancing +menacingly he thundered:</p> + +<p>“I mean—were you, in the discharge of your +menial-like duties, instructed by my father to send that paragraph +to the newspapers regarding my alleged betrothal to Miss Roberts? +Yes or No?”</p> + +<p>The man winced and made a step backward. There was a gleam in +the Ryder eye which he knew by experience boded no good.</p> + +<p>“Really, Jefferson,” he said in a more conciliatory +<a class="pagebreak" name="page263" id="page263" title="263"></a> +tone, “I know absolutely nothing about the paragraph. This +is the first I hear of it. Why not ask your father?”</p> + +<p>“I will,” replied Jefferson grimly.</p> + +<p>He was turning to go in the direction of the library when +Bagley stopped him.</p> + +<p>“You cannot possibly see him now,” he said. +“Sergeant Ellison of the Secret Service is in there with +him, and your father told me not to disturb him on any account. He +has another appointment at three o'clock with some woman who +writes books.”</p> + +<p>Seeing that the fellow was in earnest, Jefferson did not +insist. He could see his father a little later or send him a +message through his mother. Proceeding upstairs he found Mrs. +Ryder in her room and in a few energetic words he explained the +situation to his mother. They had gone too far with this +match-making business, he said, his father was trying to interfere +with his personal liberty and he was going to put a stop to it. He +would leave at once for Europe. Mrs. Ryder had already heard of +the projected trip abroad, so the news of this sudden departure +was not the shock it might otherwise have been. In her heart she +did not blame her son, on the contrary she admired his spirit, and +if the temporary absence from home would make him happier, she +would not hold him +<a class="pagebreak" name="page264" id="page264" title="264"></a> +back. Yet, mother like, she wept and coaxed, but nothing would +shake Jefferson in his determination and he begged his mother to +make it very plain to his father that this was final and that a +few days would see him on his way abroad. He would try and come +back to see his father that afternoon, but otherwise she was to +say good-bye for him. Mrs. Ryder promised tearfully to do what her +son demanded and a few minutes later Jefferson was on his way to +the front door.</p> + +<p>As he went down stairs something white on the carpet attracted +his attention. He stooped and picked it up. It was a letter. It +was in Bagley's handwriting and had evidently been dropped by the +man to whom the secretary had given it to post. But what +interested Jefferson more than anything else was that it was +addressed to Miss Kate Roberts. Under ordinary circumstances, a +king's ransom would not have tempted the young man to read a +letter addressed to another, but he was convinced that his +father's secretary was an adventurer and if he were carrying on an +intrigue in this manner it could have only one meaning. It was his +duty to unveil a rascal who was using the Ryder roof and name to +further his own ends and victimize a girl who, although +sophisticated enough to know better, was too silly to realize the +risk she ran at +<a class="pagebreak" name="page265" id="page265" title="265"></a> +the hands of an unscrupulous man. Hesitating no longer, Jefferson +tore open the envelope and read:</p> + +<blockquote>My dearest wife that is to be:</blockquote> +<blockquote>I have arranged everything. Next Wednesday—just +a week from to-day—we will go to the house of a discreet +friend of mine where a minister will marry us; then we will go to +City Hall and get through the legal part of it. Afterwards, we can +catch the four o'clock train for Buffalo. Meet me in the ladies' +room at the Holland House Wednesday morning at 11 a.m. I will come +there with a closed cab.</blockquote> +<blockquote class="closing">Your devoted</blockquote> +<blockquote class="signature"><span class="sc">Fitz.</span></blockquote> + +<p>“Phew!” Jefferson whistled. A close shave this for +Senator Roberts, he thought. His first impulse was to go upstairs +again to his mother and put the matter in her hands. She would +immediately inform his father, who would make short work of Mr. +Bagley. But, thought Jefferson, why should he spoil a good thing? +He could afford to wait a day or two. There was no hurry. He could +allow Bagley to think all was going swimmingly and then uncover +the plot at the eleventh hour. He would even let this letter go to +Kate, there was no difficulty in procuring another envelope and +imitating the handwriting—and when Bagley was just preparing +to go to the rendezvous he would spring the trap. Such a cad +deserved no mercy. The scandal would be a knock-out blow, his +father would discharge him on the spot and that would be the last +they would +<a class="pagebreak" name="page266" id="page266" title="266"></a> +see of the aristocratic English secretary. Jefferson put the +letter in his pocket and left the house rejoicing.</p> + +<br /> + +<p>While the foregoing incidents were happening John Burkett Ryder +was secluded in his library. The great man had come home earlier +than usual, for he had two important callers to see by appointment +that afternoon. One was Sergeant Ellison, who had to report on +his mission to Massapequa; the other was Miss Shirley Green, the +author of “The American Octopus,” who had at last +deigned to honour him with a visit. Pending the arrival of these +visitors the financier was busy with his secretary trying to get +rid as rapidly as possible of what business and correspondence +there was on hand.</p> + +<p>The plutocrat was sitting at his desk poring over a mass of +papers. Between his teeth was the inevitable long black cigar and +when he raised his eyes to the light a close observer might have +remarked that they were sea-green, a colour they assumed when the +man of millions was absorbed in scheming new business deals. Every +now and then he stopped reading the papers to make quick +calculations on scraps of paper. Then if the result pleased him, +a smile overspread his saturnine features. He rose from his chair +and nervously paced the floor as he always did when thinking +deeply.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page267" id="page267" title="267"></a> +<p>“Five millions,” he muttered, “not a cent +more. If they won't sell we'll crush them—”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley entered. Mr. Ryder looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>“Well, Bagley?” he said interrogatively. “Has +Sergeant Ellison come?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. But Mr. Herts is downstairs. He insists on +seeing you about the Philadelphia gas deal. He says it is a matter +of life and death.”</p> + +<p>“To him—yes,” answered the financier dryly. +“Let him come up. We might as well have it out +now.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley went out and returned almost immediately, followed +by a short, fat man, rather loudly dressed and apoplectic in +appearance. He looked like a prosperous brewer, while, as a matter +of fact, he was president of a gas company, one of the shrewdest +promoters in the country, and a big man in Wall Street. There was +only one bigger man and that was John Ryder. But, to-day, Mr. +Herts was not in good condition. His face was pale and his manner +flustered and nervous. He was plainly worried.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ryder,” he began with excited gesture, +“the terms you offer are preposterous. It would mean +disaster to the stockholders. Our gas properties are worth six +times that amount. We will sell out for twenty millions—not +a cent less.”</p> + +<p>Ryder shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page268" id="page268" title="268"></a> +<p>“Mr. Herts,” he replied coolly, “I am busy +to-day and in no mood for arguing. We'll either buy you out or +force you out. Choose. You have our offer. Five millions for your +gas property. Will you take it?”</p> + +<p>“We'll see you in hell first!” cried his visitor +exasperated.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” replied Ryder still unruffled, +“all negotiations are off. You leave me free to act. We have +an offer to buy cheap the old Germantown Gas Company which has +charter rights to go into any of the streets of Philadelphia. We +shall purchase that company, we will put ten millions new capital +into it, and reduce the price of gas in Philadelphia to sixty +cents a thousand. Where will you be then?”</p> + +<p>The face of the Colossus as he uttered this stand and deliver +speech was calm and inscrutable. Conscious of the resistless power +of his untold millions, he felt no more compunction in mercilessly +crushing this business rival than he would in trampling out the +life of a worm. The little man facing him looked haggard and +distressed. He knew well that this was no idle threat. He was well +aware that Ryder and his associates by the sheer weight of the +enormous wealth they controlled could sell out or destroy any +industrial corporation in the land. It was plainly illegal, but it +was done every day, and his company was not the first +<a class="pagebreak" name="page269" id="page269" title="269"></a> +victim nor the last. Desperate, he appealed humbly to the +tyrannical Money Power:</p> + +<p>“Don't drive us to the wall, Mr. Ryder. This forced sale +will mean disaster to us all. Put yourself in our +place—think what it means to scores of families whose only +support is the income from their investment in our +company.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Herts,” replied Ryder unmoved, “I never +allow sentiment to interfere with business. You have heard my +terms. I refuse to argue the matter further. What is it to be? +Five millions or competition? Decide now or this interview must +end!”</p> + +<p>He took out his watch and with his other hand touched a bell. +Beads of perspiration stood on his visitor's forehead. In a voice +broken with suppressed emotion he said hoarsely:</p> + +<p>“You're a hard, pitiless man, John Ryder! So be +it—five millions. I don't know what they'll say. I don't +dare return to them.”</p> + +<p>“Those are my terms,” said Ryder coldly. “The +papers,” he added, “will be ready for your signature +to-morrow at this time, and I'll have a cheque ready for the +entire amount. Good-day.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley entered. Ryder bowed to Herts, who slowly retired. +When the door had closed on him +<a class="pagebreak" name="page270" id="page270" title="270"></a> +Ryder went back to his desk, a smile of triumph on his face. Then +he turned to his secretary:</p> + +<p>“Let Sergeant Ellison come up,” he said.</p> + +<p>The secretary left the room and Mr. Ryder sank comfortably in +his chair, puffing silently at his long black cigar. The financier +was thinking, but his thoughts concerned neither the luckless gas +president he had just pitilessly crushed, nor the detective who +had come to make his report. He was thinking of the book +“The American Octopus,” and its bold author whom he +was to meet in a very few minutes. He glanced at the clock. A +quarter to three. She would be here in fifteen minutes if she were +punctual, but women seldom are, he reflected. What kind of a woman +could she be, this Shirley Green, to dare cross swords with a man +whose power was felt in two hemispheres? No ordinary woman, that +was certain. He tried to imagine what she looked like, and he +pictured a tall, gaunt, sexless spinster with spectacles, a sort +of nightmare in the garb of a woman. A sour, discontented +creature, bitter to all mankind, owing to disappointments in early +life and especially vindictive towards the rich, whom her +socialistic and even anarchistical tendencies prompted her to hate +and attack. Yet, withal, a brainy, intelligent woman, remarkably +well informed as to political and industrial conditions—a +woman to +<a class="pagebreak" name="page271" id="page271" title="271"></a> +make a friend of rather than an enemy. And John Ryder, who had +educated himself to believe that with gold he could do everything, +that none could resist its power, had no doubt that with money he +could enlist this Shirley Green in his service. At least it would +keep her from writing more books about him.</p> + +<p>The door opened and Sergeant Ellison entered, followed by the +secretary, who almost immediately withdrew.</p> + +<p>“Well, sergeant,” said Mr. Ryder cordially, +“what have you to tell me? I can give you only a few +minutes. I expect a lady friend of yours.”</p> + +<p>The plutocrat sometimes condescended to be jocular with his +subordinates.</p> + +<p>“A lady friend of mine, sir?” echoed the man, +puzzled.</p> + +<p>“Yes—Miss Shirley Green, the author,” replied +the financier, enjoying the detective's embarrassment. +“That suggestion of yours worked out all right. She's +coming here to-day.”</p> + +<p>“I'm glad you've found her, sir.”</p> + +<p>“It was a tough job,” answered Ryder with a +grimace. “We wrote her half a dozen times before she was +satisfied with the wording of the invitation. But, finally, we +landed her and I expect her at three o'clock. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page272" id="page272" title="272"></a> +Now what about that Rossmore girl? Did you go down to +Massapequa?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, I have been there half a dozen times. In fact, +I've just come from there. Judge Rossmore is there, all right, but +his daughter has left for parts unknown.”</p> + +<p>“Gone away—where?” exclaimed the +financier.</p> + +<p>This was what he dreaded. As long as he could keep his eye on +the girl there was little danger of Jefferson making a fool of +himself; with her disappeared everything was possible.</p> + +<p>“I could not find out, sir. Their neighbours don't know +much about them. They say they're haughty and stuck up. The only +one I could get anything out of was a parson named Deetle. He said +it was a sad case, that they had reverses and a daughter who was +in Paris—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” said Ryder impatiently, “we know +all that. But where's the daughter now?”</p> + +<p>“Search me, sir. I even tried to pump the Irish slavey. +Gee, what a vixen! She almost flew at me. She said she didn't +know and didn't care.”</p> + +<p>Ryder brought his fist down with force on his desk, a trick he +had when he wished to emphasize a point.</p> + +<p>“Sergeant, I don't like the mysterious disappearance of +that girl. You must find her, do you hear, you must +<a class="pagebreak" name="page273" id="page273" title="273"></a> +find her if it takes all the sleuths in the country. Had my son +been seen there?”</p> + +<p>“The parson said he saw a young fellow answering his +description sitting on the porch of the Rossmore cottage the +evening before the girl disappeared, but he didn't know who he was +and hasn't seen him since.”</p> + +<p>“That was my son, I'll wager. He knows where the girl is. +Perhaps he's with her now. Maybe he's going to marry her. That +must be prevented at any cost. Sergeant, find that Rossmore girl +and I'll give you $1,000.”</p> + +<p>The detective's face flushed with pleasure at the prospect of +so liberal a reward. Rising he said:</p> + +<p>“I'll find her, sir. I'll find her.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley entered, wearing the solemn, important air he always +affected when he had to announce a visitor of consequence. But +before he could open his mouth Mr. Ryder said:</p> + +<p>“Bagley, when did you see my son, Jefferson, +last?”</p> + +<p>“To-day, sir. He wanted to see you to say good-bye. He +said he would be back.”</p> + +<p>Ryder gave a sigh of relief and addressing the detective +said:</p> + +<p>“It's not so bad as I thought.” Then turning again +to his secretary he asked:</p> + +<p>“Well, Bagley, what is it?”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page274" id="page274" title="274"></a> +<p>“There's a lady downstairs, sir—Miss Shirley +Green.”</p> + +<p>The financier half sprang from his seat.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. Show her up at once. Good-bye, sergeant, +good-bye. Find that Rossmore woman and the $1,000 is +yours.”</p> + +<p>The detective went out and a few moments later Mr. Bagley +reappeared ushering in Shirley.</p> + +<p>The mouse was in the den of the lion.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page275" id="page275" title="275"></a> +<a name="chapter12" id="chapter12"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p>Mr. Ryder remained at his desk and did not even look up when +his visitor entered. He pretended to be busily preoccupied with +his papers, which was a favourite pose of his when receiving +strangers. This frigid reception invariably served its purpose, +for it led visitors not to expect more than they got, which +usually was little enough. For several minutes Shirley stood +still, not knowing whether to advance or to take a seat. She gave +a little conventional cough, and Ryder looked up. What he saw so +astonished him that he at once took from his mouth the cigar he +was smoking and rose from his seat. He had expected a gaunt old +maid with spectacles, and here was a stylish, good-looking young +woman, who could not possibly be over twenty-five. There was +surely some mistake. This slip of a girl could not have written +“The American Octopus.” He advanced to greet +Shirley.</p> + +<p>“You wish to see me, Madame?” he asked courteously. +There were times when even John Burkett Ryder could be polite.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page276" id="page276" title="276"></a> +<p>“Yes,” replied Shirley, her voice trembling a +little; in spite of her efforts to keep cool. “I am here by +appointment. Three o'clock, Mrs. Ryder's note said. I am Miss +Green.”</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i>—Miss Green?” echoed the financier +dubiously.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am Miss Green—Shirley Green, author of +‘The American Octopus.’ You asked me to call. Here I +am.”</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life, John Ryder was nonplussed. He +coughed and stammered and looked round for a place where he could +throw his cigar. Shirley, who enjoyed his embarrassment, put him +at his ease.</p> + +<p>“Oh, please go on smoking,” she said; “I +don't mind it in the least.”</p> + +<p>Ryder threw the cigar into a receptacle and looked closely at +his visitor.</p> + +<p>“So you are Shirley Green, eh?”</p> + +<p>“That is my <i>nom-de-plume</i>—yes,” replied +the girl nervously. She was already wishing herself back at +Massapequa. The financier eyed her for a moment in silence as if +trying to gauge the strength of the personality of this audacious +young woman, who had dared to criticise his business methods in +public print; then, waving her to a seat near his desk, he +said:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page277" id="page277" title="277"></a> +<p>“Won't you sit down?”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” murmured Shirley. She sat down, and he +took his seat at the other side of the desk, which brought them +face to face. Again inspecting the girl with a close scrutiny that +made her cheeks burn, Ryder said:</p> + +<p>“I rather expected—” He stopped for a moment +as if uncertain what to say, then he added: “You're younger +than I thought you were, Miss Green, much younger.”</p> + +<p>“Time will remedy that,” smiled Shirley. Then, +mischievously, she added: “I rather expected to see Mrs. +Ryder.”</p> + +<p>There was the faintest suspicion of a smile playing around the +corners of the plutocrat's mouth as he picked up a book lying on +his desk and replied:</p> + +<p>“Yes—she wrote you, but I—wanted to see you +about this.”</p> + +<p>Shirley's pulse throbbed faster, but she tried hard to appear +unconcerned as she answered:</p> + +<p>“Oh, my book—have you read it?”</p> + +<p>“I have,” replied Ryder slowly and, fixing her with +a stare that was beginning to make her uncomfortable, he went on: +“No doubt your time is valuable, so I'll come right to the +point. I want to ask you, Miss Green, where you got the character +of your central +<a class="pagebreak" name="page278" id="page278" title="278"></a> +figure—the Octopus, as you call him—John +Broderick?”</p> + +<p>“From imagination—of course,” answered +Shirley.</p> + +<p>Ryder opened the book, and Shirley noticed that there were +several passages marked. He turned the leaves over in silence for +a minute or two and then he said:</p> + +<p>“You've sketched a pretty big man here—”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented Shirley, “he has big +possibilities, but I think he makes very small use of +them.”</p> + +<p>Ryder appeared not to notice her commentary, and, still reading +the book, he continued:</p> + +<p>“On page 22 you call him ‘<i>the world's greatest +individualized potentiality, a giant combination of materiality, +mentality and money—the greatest exemplar of individual +human will in existence to-day.</i>’ And you make +indomitable will and energy the keystone of his marvellous +success. Am I right?” He looked at her questioningly.</p> + +<p>“Quite right,” answered Shirley.</p> + +<p>Ryder proceeded:</p> + +<p>“On page 26 you say ‘<i>the machinery of his +money-making mind typifies the laws of perpetual unrest. It must +go on, relentlessly, resistlessly, ruthlessly making +money—making money and continuing to make money. It cannot +stop until the machinery crumbles.</i>’”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page279" id="page279" title="279"></a> +<p>Laying the book down and turning sharply on Shirley, he asked +her bluntly:</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that I couldn't stop to-morrow if I +wanted to?”</p> + +<p>She affected to not understand him.</p> + +<p>“<i>You?</i>” she inquired in a tone of +surprise.</p> + +<p>“Well—it's a natural question,” stammered +Ryder, with a nervous little laugh; “every man sees himself +in the hero of a novel just as every woman sees herself in the +heroine. We're all heroes and heroines in our own eyes. But tell +me what's your private opinion of this man. You drew the +character. What do you think of him as a type, how would you +classify him?”</p> + +<p>“As the greatest criminal the world has yet +produced,” replied Shirley without a moment's +hesitation.</p> + +<p>The financier looked at the girl in unfeigned astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Criminal?” he echoed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, criminal,” repeated Shirley decisively. +“He is avarice, egotism, and ambition incarnate. He loves +money because he loves power, and he loves power more than his +fellow man.”</p> + +<p>Ryder laughed uneasily. Decidedly, this girl had opinions of +her own which she was not backward to express.</p> + +<p>“Isn't that rather strong?” he asked.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page280" id="page280" title="280"></a> +<p>“I don't think so,” replied Shirley. Then quickly +she asked: “But what does it matter? No such man +exists.”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not,” said Ryder, and he relapsed +into silence.</p> + +<p>Yet while he said nothing, the plutocrat was watching his +visitor closely from under his thick eyebrows. She seemed +supremely unconscious of his scrutiny. Her aristocratic, +thoughtful face gave no sign that any ulterior motive had actuated +her evidently very hostile attitude against him. That he was in +her mind when she drew the character of John Broderick there was +no doubt possible. No matter how she might evade the +identification, he was convinced he was the hero of her book. Why +had she attacked him so bitterly? At first, it occurred to him +that blackmail might be her object; she might be going to ask for +money as the price of future silence. Yet it needed but a glance +at her refined and modest demeanour to dispel that idea as absurd. +Then he remembered, too, that it was not she who had sought this +interview, but himself. No, she was no blackmailer. More probably +she was a dreamer—one of those meddling sociologists who, +under pretence of bettering the conditions of the working classes, +stir up discontent and bitterness of feeling. As such; she might +prove more to be feared +<a class="pagebreak" name="page281" id="page281" title="281"></a> +than a mere blackmailer whom he could buy off with money. He knew +he was not popular, but he was no worse than the other captains of +industry. It was a cut-throat game at best. Competition was the +soul of commercial life, and if he had outwitted his competitors +and made himself richer than all of them, he was not a criminal +for that. But all these attacks in newspapers and books did not do +him any good. One day the people might take these demagogic +writings seriously and then there would be the devil to pay. He +took up the book again and ran over the pages. This certainly was +no ordinary girl. She knew more and had a more direct way of +saying things than any woman he had ever met. And as he watched +her furtively across the desk he wondered how he could use her; +how instead of being his enemy, he could make her his friend. If +he did not, she would go away and write more such books, and +literature of this kind might become a real peril to his +interests. Money could do anything; it could secure the services +of this woman and prevent her doing further mischief. But how +could he employ her? Suddenly an inspiration came to him. For +some years he had been collecting material for a history of the +Empire Trading Company. She could write it. It +<a class="pagebreak" name="page282" id="page282" title="282"></a> +would practically be his own biography. Would she undertake +it?</p> + +<p>Embarrassed by the long silence, Shirley finally broke it by +saying:</p> + +<p>“But you didn't ask me to call merely to find out what I +thought of my own work.”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Ryder slowly, “I want you to do +some work for me.”</p> + +<p>He opened a drawer at the left-hand side of his desk and took +out several sheets of foolscap and a number of letters. Shirley's +heart beat faster as she caught sight of the letters. Were her +father's among them? She wondered what kind of work John Burkett +Ryder had for her to do and if she would do it whatever it was. +Some literary work probably, compiling or something of that kind. +If it was well paid, why should she not accept? There would be +nothing humiliating in it; it would not tie her hands in any way. +She was a professional writer in the market to be employed by +whoever could pay the price. Besides, such work might give her +better opportunities to secure the letters of which she was in +search. Gathering in one pile all the papers he had removed from +the drawer, Mr. Ryder said:</p> + +<p>“I want you to put my biography together from this +material. But first,” he added, taking up “The +<a class="pagebreak" name="page283" id="page283" title="283"></a> +American Octopus,” “I want to know where you got the +details of this man's life.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, for the most part—imagination, newspapers, +magazines,” replied Shirley carelessly. “You know the +American millionaire is a very overworked topic just now—and +naturally I've read—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I understand,” he said, “but I refer to +what you haven't read—what you couldn't have read. For +example, here.” He turned to a page marked in the book and +read aloud: “<i>As an evidence of his petty vanity, when a +youth he had a beautiful Indian girl tattooed just above the +forearm.</i>” Ryder leaned eagerly forward as he asked her +searchingly: “Now who told you that I had my arm tattooed +when I was a boy?”</p> + +<p>“Have you?” laughed Shirley nervously. “What +a curious coincidence!”</p> + +<p>“Let me read you another coincidence,” said Ryder +meaningly. He turned to another part of the book and read: +“<i>the same eternal long black cigar always between his +lips</i> ...”</p> + +<p>“General Grant smoked, too,” interrupted Shirley. +“All men who think deeply along material lines seem to +smoke.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we'll let that go. But how about this?” He +turned back a few pages and read: “<i>John Broderick had +loved, when a young man, a girl who lived in +<a class="pagebreak" name="page284" id="page284" title="284"></a> +Vermont, but circumstances separated them.</i>” He stopped +and stared at Shirley a moment and then he said: “I loved a +girl when I was a lad and she came from Vermont, and circumstances +separated us. That isn't coincidence, for presently you make John +Broderick marry a young woman who had money. I married a girl with +money.”</p> + +<p>“Lots of men marry for money,” remarked +Shirley.</p> + +<p>“I said <i>with</i> money, not for money,” retorted +Ryder. Then turning again to the book, he said: “Now, this +is what I can't understand, for no one could have told you this +but I myself. Listen.” He read aloud: “<i>With all his +physical bravery and personal courage, John Broderick was +intensely afraid of death. It was on his mind +constantly.</i>” “Who told you that?” he +demanded somewhat roughly. “I swear I've never mentioned it +to a living soul.”</p> + +<p>“Most men who amass money are afraid of death,” +replied Shirley with outward composure, “for death is about +the only thing that can separate them from their money.”</p> + +<p>Ryder laughed, but it was a hollow, mocking laugh, neither +sincere nor hearty. It was a laugh such as the devil may have +given when driven out of heaven.</p> + +<p>“You're quite a character!” He laughed again, and +Shirley, catching the infection, laughed, too.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page285" id="page285" title="285"></a> +<p>“It's me and it isn't me,” went on Ryder +flourishing the book. “This fellow Broderick is all right; +he's successful and he's great, but I don't like his +finish.”</p> + +<p>“It's logical,” ventured Shirley.</p> + +<p>“It's cruel,” insisted Ryder.</p> + +<p>“So is the man who reverses the divine law and hates his +neighbour instead of loving him,” retorted Shirley.</p> + +<p>She spoke more boldly, beginning to feel more sure of her +ground, and it amused her to fence in this way with the man of +millions. So far, she thought, he had not got the best of her. She +was fast becoming used to him, and her first feeling of +intimidation was passing away.</p> + +<p>“Um!” grunted Ryder, “you're a curious girl; +upon my word you interest me!” He took the mass of papers +lying at his elbow and pushed them over to her. +“Here,” he said, “I want you to make as clever a +book out of this chaos as you did out of your own +imagination.”</p> + +<p>Shirley turned the papers over carelessly.</p> + +<p>“So you think your life is a good example to +follow?” she asked with a tinge of irony.</p> + +<p>“Isn't it?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>The girl looked him square in the face.</p> + +<p>“Suppose,” she said, “we all wanted to follow +it, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page286" id="page286" title="286"></a> +suppose we all wanted to be the richest, the most powerful +personage in the world?”</p> + +<p>“Well—what then?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“I think it would postpone the era of the Brotherhood of +man indefinitely, don't you?”</p> + +<p>“I never thought of it from that point of view,” +admitted the billionaire. “Really,” he added, +“you're an extraordinary girl. Why, you can't be more than +twenty—or so.”</p> + +<p>“I'm twenty-four—or so,” smiled Shirley.</p> + +<p>Ryder's face expanded in a broad smile. He admired this girl's +pluck and ready wit. He grew more amiable and tried to gain her +confidence. In a coaxing tone he said:</p> + +<p>“Come, where did you get those details? Take me into your +confidence.”</p> + +<p>“I have taken you into my confidence,” laughed +Shirley, pointing at her book. “It cost you $1.50!” +Turning over the papers he had put before her she said presently: +“I don't know about this.”</p> + +<p>“You don't think my life would make good reading?” +he asked with some asperity.</p> + +<p>“It might,” she replied slowly, as if unwilling to +commit herself as to its commercial or literary value. Then she +said frankly: “To tell you the honest truth, I don't +consider mere genius in money-making is sufficient +<a class="pagebreak" name="page287" id="page287" title="287"></a> +provocation for rushing into print. You see, unless you come to a +bad end, it would have no moral.”</p> + +<p>Ignoring the not very flattering insinuation contained in this +last speech, the plutocrat continued to urge her:</p> + +<p>“You can name your own price if you will do the +work,” he said. “Two, three or even five thousand +dollars. It's only a few months' work.”</p> + +<p>“Five thousand dollars?” echoed Shirley. +“That's a lot of money.” Smiling, she added: “It +appeals to my commercial sense. But I'm afraid the subject does +not arouse my enthusiasm from an artistic standpoint.”</p> + +<p>Ryder seemed amused at the idea of any one hesitating to make +five thousand dollars. He knew that writers do not run across such +opportunities every day.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word,” he said, “I don't know why +I'm so anxious to get you to do the work. I suppose it's because +you don't want to. You remind me of my son. Ah, he's a +problem!”</p> + +<p>Shirley started involuntarily when Ryder mentioned his son. But +he did not notice it.</p> + +<p>“Why, is he wild?” she asked, as if only mildly +interested.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, I wish he were,” said Ryder.</p> + +<p>“Fallen in love with the wrong woman, I suppose,” +she said.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page288" id="page288" title="288"></a> +<p>“Something of the sort—how did you guess?” +asked Ryder surprised.</p> + +<p>Shirley coughed to hide her embarrassment and replied +indifferently.</p> + +<p>“So many boys do that. Besides,” she added with a +mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “I can hardly imagine that +any woman would be the right one unless you selected her +yourself!”</p> + +<p>Ryder made no answer. He folded his arms and gazed at her. Who +was this woman who knew him so well, who could read his inmost +thoughts, who never made a mistake? After a silence he said:</p> + +<p>“Do you know you say the strangest things?”</p> + +<p>“Truth is strange,” replied Shirley carelessly. +“I don't suppose you hear it very often.”</p> + +<p>“Not in that form,” admitted Ryder.</p> + +<p>Shirley had taken on to her lap some of the letters he had +passed her, and was perusing them one after another.</p> + +<p>“All these letters from Washington consulting you on +politics and finance—they won't interest the +world.”</p> + +<p>“My secretary picked them out,” explained Ryder. +“Your artistic sense will tell you what to use.”</p> + +<p>“Does your son still love this girl? I mean the one you +object to?” inquired Shirley as she went on sorting the +papers.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page289" id="page289" title="289"></a> +<p>“Oh, no, he does not care for her any more,” +answered Ryder hastily.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he does; he still loves her,” said Shirley +positively.</p> + +<p>“How do <i>you</i> know?” asked Ryder amazed.</p> + +<p>“From the way you say he doesn't,” retorted +Shirley.</p> + +<p>Ryder gave his caller a look in which admiration was mingled +with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“You are right again,” he said. “The idiot +does love the girl.”</p> + +<p>“Bless his heart,” said Shirley to herself. Aloud +she said:</p> + +<p>“I hope they'll both outwit you.”</p> + +<p>Ryder laughed in spite of himself. This young woman certainly +interested him more than any other he had ever known.</p> + +<p>“I don't think I ever met anyone in my life quite like +you,” he said.</p> + +<p>“What's the objection to the girl?” demanded +Shirley.</p> + +<p>“Every objection. I don't want her in my +family.”</p> + +<p>“Anything against her character?”</p> + +<p>To better conceal the keen interest she took in the personal +turn the conversation had taken, Shirley pretended to be more busy +than ever with the papers.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page290" id="page290" title="290"></a> +<p>“Yes—that is no—not that I know of,” +replied Ryder. “But because a woman has a good character, +that doesn't necessarily make her a desirable match, does +it?”</p> + +<p>“It's a point in her favor, isn't it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—but—” He hesitated as if uncertain +what to say.</p> + +<p>“You know men well, don't you, Mr. Ryder?”</p> + +<p>“I've met enough to know them pretty well,” he +replied.</p> + +<p>“Why don't you study women for a change?” she +asked. “That would enable you to understand a great many +things that I don't think are quite clear to you now.”</p> + +<p>Ryder laughed good humouredly. It was decidedly a novel +sensation to have someone lecturing him.</p> + +<p>“I'm studying you,” he said, “but I don't +seem to make much headway. A woman like you whose mind isn't +spoiled by the amusement habit has great possibilities—great +possibilities. Do you know you're the first woman I ever took into +my confidence—I mean at sight?” Again he fixed her +with that keen glance which in his business life had taught him +how to read men. He continued: “I'm acting on +sentiment—something I rarely do, but I can't help it. I +<a class="pagebreak" name="page291" id="page291" title="291"></a> +like you, upon my soul I do, and I'm going to introduce you to my +wife—my son—”</p> + +<p>He took the telephone from his desk as if he were going to use +it.</p> + +<p>“What a commander-in-chief you would have made—how +natural it is for you to command,” exclaimed Shirley in a +burst of admiration that was half real, half mocking. “I +suppose you always tell people what they are to do and how they +are to do it. You are a born general. You know I've often thought +that Napoleon and Cæsar and Alexander must have been great +domestic leaders as well as imperial rulers. I'm sure of it +now.”</p> + +<p>Ryder listened to her in amazement. He was not quite sure if +she were making fun of him or not.</p> + +<p>“Well, of all—” he began. Then interrupting +himself he said amiably: “Won't you do me the honour to meet +my family?”</p> + +<p>Shirley smiled sweetly and bowed.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Ryder, I will.”</p> + +<p>She rose from her seat and leaned over the manuscripts to +conceal the satisfaction this promise of an introduction to the +family circle gave her. She was quick to see that it meant more +visits to the house, and other and perhaps better opportunities to +find the objects of her search. Ryder lifted the receiver of his +<a class="pagebreak" name="page292" id="page292" title="292"></a> +telephone and talked to his secretary in another room, while +Shirley, who was still standing, continued examining the papers +and letters.</p> + +<p>“Is that you, Bagley? What's that? General Dodge? Get rid +of him. I can't see him to-day. Tell him to come to-morrow. +What's that? My son wants to see me? Tell him to come to the +phone.”</p> + +<p>At that instant Shirley gave a little cry, which in vain she +tried to suppress. Ryder looked up.</p> + +<p>“What's the matter?” he demanded startled.</p> + +<p>“Nothing—nothing!” she replied in a hoarse +whisper. “I pricked myself with a pin. Don't mind +me.”</p> + +<p>She had just come across her father's missing letters, which +had got mixed up, evidently without Ryder's knowledge, in the mass +of papers he had handed her. Prepared as she was to find the +letters somewhere in the house, she never dreamed that fate would +put them so easily and so quickly into her hands; the suddenness +of their appearance and the sight of her father's familiar +signature affected her almost like a shock. Now she had them, she +must not let them go again; yet how could she keep them +unobserved? Could she conceal them? Would he miss them? She tried +to slip them in her bosom while Ryder was busy at the 'phone, but +he suddenly glanced in her direction and caught her eye. She still +held the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page293" id="page293" title="293"></a> +letters in her hand, which shook from nervousness, but he noticed +nothing and went on speaking through the 'phone:</p> + +<p>“Hallo, Jefferson, boy! You want to see me. Can you wait +till I'm through? I've got a lady here. Going away? Nonsense! +Determined, eh? Well, I can't keep you here if you've made up your +mind. You want to say good-bye. Come up in about five minutes and +I'll introduce you to a very interesting person,”</p> + +<p>He laughed and hung up the receiver. Shirley was all unstrung, +trying to overcome the emotion which her discovery had caused her, +and in a strangely altered voice, the result of the nervous strain +she was under, she said:</p> + +<p>“You want me to come here?”</p> + +<p>She looked up from the letters she was reading across to Ryder, +who was standing watching her on the other side of the desk. He +caught her glance and, leaning over to take some manuscript, he +said:</p> + +<p>“Yes, I don't want these papers to get—”</p> + +<p>His eye suddenly rested on the letters she was holding. He +stopped short, and reaching forward he tried to snatch them from +her.</p> + +<p>“What have you got there?” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>He took the letters and she made no resistance. It +<a class="pagebreak" name="page294" id="page294" title="294"></a> +would be folly to force the issue now, she thought. Another +opportunity would present itself. Ryder locked the letters up very +carefully in the drawer on the left-hand side of his desk, +muttering to himself rather than speaking to Shirley:</p> + +<p>“How on earth did they get among my other +papers?”</p> + +<p>“From Judge Rossmore, were they not?” said Shirley +boldly.</p> + +<p>“How did you know it was Judge Rossmore?” demanded +Ryder suspiciously. “I didn't know that his name had been +mentioned.”</p> + +<p>“I saw his signature,” she said simply. Then she +added: “He's the father of the girl you don't like, isn't +he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he's the—”</p> + +<p>A cloud came over the financier's face; his eyes darkened, his +jaws snapped and he clenched his fist.</p> + +<p>“How you must hate him!” said Shirley, who observed +the change.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” replied Ryder recovering his +self-possession and suavity of manner. “I disagree with his +politics and his methods, but—I know very little about him +except that he is about to be removed from office.”</p> + +<p>“About to be?” echoed Shirley. “So his fate +is +<a class="pagebreak" name="page295" id="page295" title="295"></a> +decided even before he is tried?” The girl laughed bitterly. +“Yes,” she went on, “some of the newspapers are +beginning to think he is innocent of the things of which he is +accused.”</p> + +<p>“Do they?” said Ryder indifferently.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she persisted, “most people are on his +side.”</p> + +<p>She planted her elbows on the desk in front of her, and looking +him squarely in the face, she asked him point blank:</p> + +<p>“Whose side are you on—really and truly?”</p> + +<p>Ryder winced. What right had this woman, a stranger both to +Judge Rossmore and himself, to come here and catechise him? He +restrained his impatience with difficulty as he replied:</p> + +<p>“Whose side am I on? Oh, I don't know that I am on any +side. I don't know that I give it much thought. +I—”</p> + +<p>“Do you think this man deserves to be punished?” +she demanded.</p> + +<p>She had resumed her seat at the desk and partly regained her +self-possession.</p> + +<p>“Why do you ask? What is your interest in this +matter?”</p> + +<p>“I don't know,” she replied evasively; “his +case interests me, that's all. Its rather romantic. Your +<a class="pagebreak" name="page296" id="page296" title="296"></a> +son loves this man's daughter. He is in disgrace—many seem +to think unjustly.” Her voice trembled with emotion as she +continued: “I have heard from one source or +another—you know I am acquainted with a number of newspaper +men—I have heard that life no longer has any interest for +him, that he is not only disgraced but beggared, that he is pining +away slowly, dying of a broken heart, that his wife and daughter +are in despair. Tell me, do you think he deserves such a +fate?”</p> + +<p>Ryder remained thoughtful a moment, and then he replied:</p> + +<p>“No, I do not—no—”</p> + +<p>Thinking that she had touched his sympathies, Shirley followed +up her advantage:</p> + +<p>“Oh, then, why not come to his rescue—you, who are +so rich, so powerful; you, who can move the scales of justice at +your will—save this man from humiliation and +disgrace!”</p> + +<p>Ryder shrugged his shoulders, and his face expressed weariness, +as if the subject had begun to bore him.</p> + +<p>“My dear girl, you don't understand. His removal is +necessary.”</p> + +<p>Shirley's face became set and hard. There was a contemptuous +ring to her words as she retorted:</p> + +<p>“Yet you admit that he may be innocent!”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page297" id="page297" title="297"></a> +<p>“Even if I knew it as a fact, I couldn't move.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that if you had positive +proof?” She pointed to the drawer in the desk where he had +placed the letters. “If you had absolute proof in that +drawer, for instance? Wouldn't you help him then?”</p> + +<p>Ryder's face grew cold and inscrutable; he now wore his +fighting mask.</p> + +<p>“Not even if I had the absolute proof in that +drawer?” he snapped viciously.</p> + +<p>“Have you absolute proof in that drawer?” she +demanded.</p> + +<p>“I repeat that even if I had, I could not expose the men +who have been my friends. Its <i>noblesse oblige</i> in politics +as well as in society, you know.”</p> + +<p>He smiled again at her, as if he had recovered his good humour +after their sharp passage at arms.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it's politics—that's what the papers said. And +you believe him innocent. Well, you must have some grounds for +your belief.”</p> + +<p>“Not necessarily—”</p> + +<p>“You said that even if you had the proofs, you could not +produce them without sacrificing your friends, showing that your +friends are interested in having this man put off the +bench—” She stopped and burst into hysterical +laughter. “Oh, I think you're +<a class="pagebreak" name="page298" id="page298" title="298"></a> +having a joke at my expense,” she went on, “just to +see how far you can lead me. I daresay Judge Rossmore deserves all +he gets. Oh, yes—I'm sure he deserves it.” She rose +and walked to the other side of the room to conceal her +emotion.</p> + +<p>Ryder watched her curiously.</p> + +<p>“My dear young lady, how you take this matter to +heart!”</p> + +<p>“Please forgive me,” laughed Shirley, and averting +her face to conceal the fact that her eyes were filled with tears. +“It's my artistic temperament, I suppose. It's always +getting me into trouble. It appealed so strongly to my +sympathies—this story of hopeless love between two young +people—with the father of the girl hounded by corrupt +politicians and unscrupulous financiers. It was too much for me. +Ah! ah! I forgot where I was!”</p> + +<p>She leaned against a chair, sick and faint from nervousness, +her whole body trembling. At that moment there was a knock at the +library door and Jefferson Ryder appeared. Not seeing Shirley, +whose back was towards him, he advanced to greet his father.</p> + +<p>“You told me to come up in five minutes,” he said. +“I just wanted to say—”</p> + +<p>“Miss Green,” said Ryder, Sr., addressing Shirley +and ignoring whatever it was that the young man +<a class="pagebreak" name="page299" id="page299" title="299"></a> +wanted to say, “this is my son Jefferson. Jeff—this is +Miss Green.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson looked in the direction indicated and stood as if +rooted to the floor. He was so surprised that he was struck dumb. +Finally, recovering himself, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Shirley!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Shirley Green, the author,” explained Ryder, +Sr., not noticing the note of familiar recognition in his +exclamation.</p> + +<p>Shirley advanced, and holding out her hand to Jefferson, said +demurely:</p> + +<p>“I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Ryder.” Then +quickly, in an undertone, she added: “Be careful; don't +betray me!”</p> + +<p>Jefferson was so astounded that he did not see the outstretched +hand. All he could do was to stand and stare first at her and then +at his father.</p> + +<p>“Why don't you shake hands with her?” said Ryder, +Sr. “She won't bite you.” Then he added: “Miss +Green is going to do some literary work for me, so we shall see a +great deal of her. It's too bad you're going away!” He +chuckled at his own pleasantry.</p> + +<p>“Father!” blurted out Jefferson, “I came to +say that I've changed my mind. You did not want me to go, and I +feel I ought to do something to please you.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page300" id="page300" title="300"></a> +<p>“Good boy,” said Ryder pleased. “Now you're +talking common sense,” He turned to Shirley, who was getting +ready to make her departure: “Well, Miss Green, we may +consider the matter settled. You undertake the work at the price I +named and finish it as soon as you can. Of course, you will have +to consult me a good deal as you go along, so I think it would be +better for you to come and stay here while the work is +progressing. Mrs. Ryder can give you a suite of rooms to yourself, +where you will be undisturbed and you will have all your material +close at hand. What do you say?”</p> + +<p>Shirley was silent for a moment. She looked first at Ryder and +then at his son, and from them her glance went to the little +drawer on the left-hand side of the desk. Then she said +quietly:</p> + +<p>“As you think best, Mr. Ryder. I am quite willing to do +the work here.”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr., escorted her to the top of the landing and watched +her as she passed down the grand staircase, ushered by the +gorgeously uniformed flunkies, to the front door and the +street.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page301" id="page301" title="301"></a> +<a name="chapter13" id="chapter13"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p>Shirley entered upon her new duties in the Ryder household two +days later. She had returned to her rooms the evening of her +meeting with the financier in a state bordering upon hysteria. The +day's events had been so extraordinary that it seemed to her they +could not be real, and that she must be in a dream. The car ride +to Seventy-fourth Street, the interview in the library, the +discovery of her father's letters, the offer to write the +biography, and, what to her was still more important, the +invitation to go and live in the Ryder home—all these +incidents were so remarkable and unusual that it was only with +difficulty that the girl persuaded herself that they were not +figments of a disordered brain.</p> + +<p>But it was all true enough. The next morning's mail brought a +letter from Mrs. Ryder, who wrote to the effect that Mr. Ryder +would like the work to begin at once, and adding that a suite of +rooms would be ready for her the following afternoon. Shirley did +not hesitate. Everything was to be gained +<a class="pagebreak" name="page302" id="page302" title="302"></a> +by making the Ryder residence her headquarters, her father's very +life depended upon the successful outcome of her present mission, +and this unhoped for opportunity practically ensured success. She +immediately wrote to Massapequa. One letter was to her mother, +saying that she was extending her visit beyond the time originally +planned. The other letter was to Stott. She told him all about the +interview with Ryder, informed him of the discovery of the +letters, and after explaining the nature of the work offered to +her, said that her address for the next few weeks would be in care +of John Burkett Ryder. All was going better than she had dared to +hope. Everything seemed to favour their plan. Her first step, of +course, while in the Ryder home, would be to secure possession of +her father's letters, and these she would dispatch at once to +Massapequa, so they could be laid before the Senate without +delay.</p> + +<p>So, after settling accounts with her landlady and packing up +her few belongings, Shirley lost no time in transferring herself +to the more luxurious quarters provided for her in the +ten-million-dollar mansion uptown.</p> + +<p>At the Ryder house she was received cordially and with every +mark of consideration. The housekeeper came down to the main hall +to greet her when she +<a class="pagebreak" name="page303" id="page303" title="303"></a> +arrived and escorted her to the suite of rooms, comprising a small +working library, a bedroom simply but daintily furnished in pink +and white and a private bathroom, which had been specially +prepared for her convenience and comfort, and here presently she +was joined by Mrs. Ryder.</p> + +<p>“Dear me,” exclaimed the financier's wife, staring +curiously at Shirley, “what a young girl you are to have +made such a stir with a book! How did you do it? I'm sure I +couldn't. It's as much as I can do to write a letter, and half the +time that's not legible.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it wasn't so hard,” laughed Shirley. “It +was the subject that appealed rather than any special skill of +mine. The trusts and their misdeeds are the favourite topics of +the hour. The whole country is talking about nothing else. My book +came at the right time, that's all.”</p> + +<p>Although “The American Octopus” was a direct attack +on her own husband, Mrs. Ryder secretly admired this young woman, +who had dared to speak a few blunt truths. It was a courage which, +alas! she had always lacked herself, but there was a certain +satisfaction in knowing there were women in the world not entirely +cowed by the tyrant Man.</p> + +<p>“I have always wanted a daughter,” went on Mrs. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page304" id="page304" title="304"></a> +Ryder, becoming confidential, while Shirley removed her things and +made herself at home; “girls of your age are so +companionable.” Then, abruptly, she asked: “Do your +parents live in New York?”</p> + +<p>Shirley's face flushed and she stooped over her trunk to hide +her embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“No—not at present,” she answered evasively. +“My mother and father are in the country.”</p> + +<p>She was afraid that more questions of a personal nature would +follow, but apparently Mrs. Ryder was not in an inquisitive mood, +for she asked nothing further. She only said:</p> + +<p>“I have a son, but I don't see much of him. You must meet +my Jefferson. He is such a nice boy.”</p> + +<p>Shirley tried to look unconcerned as she replied:</p> + +<p>“I met him yesterday. Mr. Ryder introduced him to +me.”</p> + +<p>“Poor lad, he has his troubles too,” went on Mrs. +Ryder. “He's in love with a girl, but his father wants him +to marry someone else. They're quarrelling over it all the +time.”</p> + +<a name="movquote2" id="movquote2"></a> +<p>“Parents shouldn't interfere in matters of the +heart,” said Shirley decisively. “What is more serious +than the choosing of a life companion, and who are better entitled +to make a free selection than they who are going to spend the rest +of their days together? +<a class="pagebreak" name="page305" id="page305" title="305"></a> +Of course, it is a father's duty to give his son the benefit of +his riper experience, but to insist on a marriage based only on +business interests is little less than a crime. There are +considerations more important if the union is to be a happy or a +lasting one. The chief thing is that the man should feel real +attachment for the woman he marries. Two people who are to live +together as man and wife must be compatible in tastes and temper. +You cannot mix oil and water. It is these selfish marriages which +keep our divorce courts busy. Money alone won't buy happiness in +marriage.”</p> + +<p>“No,” sighed Mrs. Ryder, “no one knows that +better than I.”</p> + +<p>The financier's wife was already most favourably impressed with +her guest, and she chatted on as if she had known Shirley for +years. It was rarely that she had heard so young a woman express +such common-sense views, and the more she talked with her the less +surprised she was that she was the author of a much-discussed +book. Finally, thinking that Shirley might prefer to be alone, she +rose to go, bidding her make herself thoroughly at home and to +ring for anything she might wish. A maid had been assigned to look +exclusively after her wants, and she could have her meals served +in her room or else have them +<a class="pagebreak" name="page306" id="page306" title="306"></a> +with the family as she liked. But Shirley, not caring to encounter +Mr. Ryder's cold, searching stare more often than necessary, said +she would prefer to take her meals alone.</p> + +<p>Left to herself, Shirley settled down to work in earnest. Mr. +Ryder had sent to her room all the material for the biography, and +soon she was completely absorbed in the task of sorting and +arranging letters, making extracts from records, compiling data, +etc., laying the foundations for the important book she was to +write. She wondered what they would call it, and she smiled as a +peculiarly appropriate title flashed through her +mind—“The History of a Crime.” Yet she thought +they could hardly infringe on Victor Hugo; perhaps the best title +was the simplest “The History of the Empire Trading +Company.” Everyone would understand that it told the story +of John Burkett Ryder's remarkable career from his earliest +beginnings to the present time. She worked feverishly all that +evening getting the material into shape, and the following day +found her early at her desk. No one disturbed her and she wrote +steadily on until noon, Mrs. Ryder only once putting her head in +the door to wish her good morning.</p> + +<p>After luncheon, Shirley decided that the weather was too +glorious to remain indoors. Her health must +<a class="pagebreak" name="page307" id="page307" title="307"></a> +not be jeopardized even to advance the interests of the Colossus, +so she put on her hat and left the house to go for a walk. The air +smelled sweet to her after being confined so long indoor, and she +walked with a more elastic and buoyant step than she had since her +return home. Turning down Fifth Avenue, she entered the park at +Seventy-second Street, following the pathway until she came to the +bend in the driveway opposite the Casino. The park was almost +deserted at that hour, and there was a delightful sense of +solitude and a sweet scent of new-mown hay from the freshly cut +lawns. She found an empty bench, well shaded by an overspreading +tree, and she sat down, grateful for the rest and quiet.</p> + +<p>She wondered what Jefferson thought of her action in coming to +his father's house practically in disguise and under an assumed +name. She must see him at once, for in him lay her hope of +obtaining possession of the letters. Certainly she felt no +delicacy or compunction in asking Jefferson to do her this +service. The letters belonged to her father and they were being +wrongfully withheld with the deliberate purpose of doing him an +injury. She had a moral if not a legal right to recover the +letters in any way that she could.</p> + +<p>She was so deeply engrossed in her thoughts that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page308" id="page308" title="308"></a> +she had not noticed a hansom cab which suddenly drew up with a +jerk at the curb opposite her bench. A man jumped out. It was +Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Shirley,” he cried gaily; “who would +have expected to find you rusticating on a bench here? I pictured +you grinding away at home doing literary stunts for the +governor.” He grinned and then added: “Come for a +drive. I want to talk to you.”</p> + +<p>Shirley demurred. No, she could not spare the time. Yet, she +thought to herself, why was not this a good opportunity to explain +to Jefferson how he came to find her in his father's library +masquerading under another name, and also to ask him to secure the +letters for her? While she pondered Jefferson insisted, and a few +minutes later she found herself sitting beside him in the cab. +They started off at a brisk pace, Shirley sitting with her head +back, enjoying the strong breeze caused by the rapid motion.</p> + +<p>“Now tell me,” he said, “what does it all +mean? I was so startled at seeing you in the library the other +day that I almost betrayed you. How did you come to call on +father?”</p> + +<p>Briefly Shirley explained everything. She told him how Mr. +Ryder had written to her asking her to call and see him, and how +she had eagerly seized at this last straw in the hope of helping +her father. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page309" id="page309" title="309"></a> +She told him about the letters, explaining how necessary they were +for her father's defence and how she had discovered them. Mr. +Ryder, she said, had seemed to take a fancy to her and had asked +her to remain in the house as his guest while she was compiling +his biography, and she had accepted the offer, not so much for the +amount of money involved as for the splendid opportunity it +afforded her to gain possession of the letters.</p> + +<p>“So that is the mysterious work you spoke of—to get +those letters?” said Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is my mission. It was a secret. I couldn't +tell you; I couldn't tell anyone. Only Judge Stott knows. He is +aware I have found them and is hourly expecting to receive them +from me. And now,” she said, “I want your +help.”</p> + +<p>His only answer was to grasp tighter the hand she had laid in +his. She knew that she would not have to explain the nature of the +service she wanted. He understood.</p> + +<p>“Where are the letters?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“In the left-hand drawer of your father's desk,” +she answered.</p> + +<p>He was silent for a few moments, and then he said simply:</p> + +<p>“I will get them.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page310" id="page310" title="310"></a> +<p>The cab by this time had got as far as Claremont, and from the +hill summit they had a splendid view of the broad sweep of the +majestic Hudson and the towering walls of the blue palisades. The +day was so beautiful and the air so invigorating that Jefferson +suggested a ramble along the banks of the river. They could leave +the cab at Claremont and drive back to the city later. Shirley was +too grateful to him for his promise of coöperation to make any +further opposition, and soon they were far away from beaten +highways, down on the banks of the historic stream, picking +flowers and laughing merrily like two truant children bent on a +self-made holiday. The place they had reached was just outside the +northern boundaries of Harlem, a sylvan spot still unspoiled by +the rude invasion of the flat-house builder. The land, thickly +wooded, sloped down sharply to the water, and the perfect quiet +was broken only by the washing of the tiny surf against the river +bank and the shrill notes of the birds in the trees.</p> + +<p>Although it was late in October the day was warm, and Shirley +soon tired of climbing over bramble-entangled verdure. The rich +grass underfoot looked cool and inviting, and the natural slope of +the ground affording an ideal resting-place, she sat there, with +Jefferson stretched out at her feet, both watching +<a class="pagebreak" name="page311" id="page311" title="311"></a> +idly the dancing waters of the broad Hudson, spangled with gleams +of light, as they swept swiftly by on their journey to the +sea.</p> + +<p>“Shirley,” said Jefferson suddenly, “I +suppose you saw that ridiculous story about my alleged engagement +to Miss Roberts. I hope you understood that it was done without my +consent.”</p> + +<p>“If I did not guess it, Jeff,” she answered, +“your assurance would be sufficient. Besides,” she +added, “what right have I to object?”</p> + +<p>“But I want you to have the right,” he replied +earnestly. “I'm going to stop this Roberts nonsense in a way +my father hardly anticipates. I'm just waiting a chance to talk to +him. I'll show him the absurdity of announcing me engaged to a +girl who is about to elope with his private secretary!”</p> + +<p>“Elope with the secretary?” exclaimed Shirley.</p> + +<p>Jefferson told her all about the letter he had found on the +staircase, and the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley's plans for a runaway +marriage with the senator's wealthy daughter.</p> + +<p>“It's a godsend to me,” he said gleefully. +“Their plan is to get married next Wednesday. I'll see my +father on Tuesday; I'll put the evidence in his hands, and I don't +think,” he added grimly, “he'll bother me any more +about Miss Roberts.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page312" id="page312" title="312"></a> +<p>“So you're not going away now?” said Shirley, +smiling down at him.</p> + +<p>He sat up and leaned over towards her.</p> + +<p>“I can't, Shirley, I simply can't,” he replied, his +voice trembling. “You are more to me than I dreamed a woman +could ever be. I realize it more forcibly every day. There is no +use fighting against it. Without you, my work, my life means +nothing.”</p> + +<p>Shirley shook her head and averted her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Don't let us speak of that, Jeff,” she pleaded +gently. “I told you I did not belong to myself while my +father was in peril.”</p> + +<p>“But I must speak of it,” he interrupted. +“Shirley, you do yourself an injustice as well as me. You +are not indifferent to me—I feel that. Then why raise this +barrier between us?”</p> + +<p>A soft light stole into the girl's eyes. Ah, it was good to +feel there was someone to whom she was everything in the +world!</p> + +<p>“Don't ask me to betray my trust, Jeff,” she +faltered. “You know I am not indifferent to you—far +from it. But I—”</p> + +<p>He came closer until his face nearly touched hers.</p> + +<p>“I love you—I want you,” he murmured +feverishly. “Give me the right to claim you before all the +world as my future wife!”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page313" id="page313" title="313"></a> +<p>Every note of his rich, manly voice, vibrating with impetuous +passion, sounded in Shirley's ear like a soft caress. She closed +her eyes. A strange feeling of languor was stealing over her, a +mysterious thrill passed through her whole body. The eternal, +inevitable sex instinct was disturbing, for the first time, a +woman whose life had been singularly free from such influences, +putting to flight all the calculations and resolves her cooler +judgment had made. The sensuous charm of the place—the +distant splash of the water, the singing of the birds, the +fragrance of the trees and grass—all these symbols of the +joy of life conspired to arouse the love-hunger of the woman. Why, +after all, should she not know happiness like other women? She had +a sacred duty to perform, it was true; but would it be less well +done because she declined to stifle the natural leanings of her +womanhood? Both her soul and her body called out: “Let this +man love you, give yourself to him, he is worthy of your +love.”</p> + +<p>Half unconsciously, she listened to his ardent wooing, her eyes +shut, as he spoke quickly, passionately, his breath warm upon her +cheek:</p> + +<p>“Shirley, I offer you all the devotion a man can give a +woman. Say the one word that will make me the happiest or the most +wretched of men. Yes or +<a class="pagebreak" name="page314" id="page314" title="314"></a> +no! Only think well before you wreck my life. I love you—I +love you! I will wait for you if need be until the crack of doom. +Say—say you will be my wife!”</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes. His face was bent close over hers. Their +lips almost touched.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jefferson,” she murmured, “I do love +you!”</p> + +<p>His lips met hers in a long, passionate kiss. Her eyes closed +and an ecstatic thrill seemed to convulse her entire being. The +birds in the trees overhead sang in more joyful chorus in +celebration of the betrothal.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page315" id="page315" title="315"></a> +<a name="chapter14" id="chapter14"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p>It was nearly seven o'clock when Shirley got back to +Seventy-fourth Street. No one saw her come in, and she went direct +to her room, and after a hasty dinner, worked until late into the +night on her book to make up for lost time. The events of the +afternoon caused her considerable uneasiness. She reproached +herself for her weakness and for having yielded so readily to the +impulse of the moment. She had said only what was the truth when +she admitted she loved Jefferson, but what right had she to +dispose of her future while her father's fate was still uncertain? +Her conscience troubled her, and when she came to reason it out +calmly, the more impossible seemed their union from every point of +view. How could she become the daughter-in-law of the man who had +ruined her own father? The idea was preposterous, and hard as the +sacrifice would be, Jefferson must be made to see it in that +light. Their engagement was the greatest folly; it bound each of +them when nothing but unhappiness could +<a class="pagebreak" name="page316" id="page316" title="316"></a> +possibly come of it. She was sure now that she loved Jefferson. It +would be hard to give him up, but there are times and +circumstances when duty and principle must prevail over all other +considerations, and this she felt was one of them.</p> + +<p>The following morning she received a letter from Stott. He was +delighted to hear the good news regarding her important discovery, +and he urged her to lose no time in securing the letters and +forwarding them to Massapequa, when he would immediately go to +Washington and lay them before the Senate. Documentary evidence +of that conclusive nature, he went on to say, would prove of the +very highest value in clearing her father's name. He added that +the judge and her mother were as well as circumstances would +permit, and that they were not in the least worried about her +protracted absence. Her Aunt Milly had already returned to Europe, +and Eudoxia was still threatening to leave daily.</p> + +<p>Shirley needed no urging. She quite realized the importance of +acting quickly, but it was not easy to get at the letters. The +library was usually kept locked when the great man was away, and +on the few occasions when access to it was possible, the lynx-eyed +Mr. Bagley was always on guard. Short as had been her stay in the +Ryder household, Shirley already +<a class="pagebreak" name="page317" id="page317" title="317"></a> +shared Jefferson's antipathy to the English secretary, whose +manner grew more supercilious and overbearing as he drew nearer +the date when he expected to run off with one of the richest +catches of the season. He had not sought the acquaintance of his +employer's biographer since her arrival, and, with the exception +of a rude stare, had not deigned to notice her, which attitude of +haughty indifference was all the more remarkable in view of the +fact that the Hon. Fitzroy usually left nothing unturned to +cultivate a flirtatious intimacy with every attractive female he +met. The truth was that what with Mr. Ryder's demands upon his +services and his own preparations for his coming matrimonial +venture, in which he had so much at stake, he had neither time nor +inclination to indulge his customary amorous diversions.</p> + +<p>Miss Roberts had called at the house several times, ostensibly +to see Mrs. Ryder, and when introduced to Shirley she had +condescended to give the latter a supercilious nod. Her +conversation was generally of the silly, vacuous sort, concerning +chiefly new dresses or bonnets, and Shirley at once read her +character—frivolous, amusement-loving, empty-headed, +irresponsible—just the kind of girl to do something foolish +without weighing the consequences. After chatting +<a class="pagebreak" name="page318" id="page318" title="318"></a> +a few moments with Mrs. Ryder she would usually vanish, and one +day, after one of these mysterious disappearances, Shirley +happened to pass the library and caught sight of her and Mr. +Bagley conversing in subdued and eager tones. It was very evident +that the elopement scheme was fast maturing. If the scandal was to +be prevented, Jefferson ought to see his father and acquaint him +with the facts without delay. It was probable that at the same +time he would make an effort to secure the letters. Meantime she +must be patient. Too much hurry might spoil everything.</p> + +<p>So the days passed, Shirley devoting almost all her time to the +history she had undertaken. She saw nothing of Ryder, Sr., but a +good deal of his wife, to whom she soon became much attached. She +found her an amiable, good-natured woman, entirely free from that +offensive arrogance and patronizing condescension which usually +marks the parvenue as distinct from the thoroughbred. Mrs. Ryder +had no claims to distinguished lineage; on the contrary, she was +the daughter of a country grocer when the then rising oil man +married her, and of educational advantages she had had little or +none. It was purely by accident that she was the wife of the +richest man in the world, and while she enjoyed the prestige her +husband's prominence gave her, she never allowed it to turn her +<a class="pagebreak" name="page319" id="page319" title="319"></a> +head. She gave away large sums for charitable purposes and, +strange to say, when the gift came direct from her, the money was +never returned on the plea that it was “tainted.” She +shared her husband's dislike for entertaining, and led practically +the life of a recluse. The advent of Shirley, therefore, into her +quiet and uneventful existence was as welcome as sunshine when it +breaks through the clouds after days of gloom. Quite a friendship +sprang up between the two women, and when tired of writing, +Shirley would go into Mrs. Ryder's room and chat until the +financier's wife began to look forward to these little impromptu +visits, so much she enjoyed them.</p> + +<p>Nothing more had been said concerning Jefferson and Miss +Roberts. The young man had not yet seen his father, but his mother +knew he was only waiting an opportunity to demand an explanation +of the engagement announcements. Her husband, on the other hand, +desired the match more than ever, owing to the continued +importunities of Senator Roberts. As usual, Mrs. Ryder confided +these little domestic troubles to Shirley.</p> + +<p>“Jefferson,” she said, “is very angry. He is +determined not to marry the girl, and when he and his father do +meet there'll be another scene.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page320" id="page320" title="320"></a> +<p>“What objection has your son to Miss Roberts?” +inquired Shirley innocently.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the usual reason,” sighed the mother, +“and I've no doubt he knows best. He's in love with another +girl—a Miss Rossmore.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” answered Shirley simply. “Mr. +Ryder spoke of her.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ryder was silent, and presently she left the girl alone +with her work.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon Shirley was in her room busy writing when +there came a tap at her door. Thinking it was another visit from +Mrs. Ryder, she did not look up, but cried out pleasantly:</p> + +<p>“Come in.”</p> + +<p>John Ryder entered. He smiled cordially and, as if apologizing +for the intrusion, said amiably:</p> + +<p>“I thought I'd run up to see how you were getting +along.”</p> + +<p>His coming was so unexpected that for a moment Shirley was +startled, but she quickly regained her composure and asked him to +take a seat. He seemed pleased to find her making such good +progress, and he stopped to answer a number of questions she put +to him. Shirley tried to be cordial, but when she looked well at +him and noted the keen, hawk-like eyes, the cruel, vindictive +lines about the mouth, the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page321" id="page321" title="321"></a> +square-set, relentless jaw—Wall Street had gone wrong with +the Colossus that day and he was still wearing his war +paint—she recalled the wrong this man had done her father +and she felt how bitterly she hated him. The more her mind dwelt +upon it, the more exasperated she was to think she should be +there, a guest, under his roof, and it was only with the greatest +difficulty that she remained civil.</p> + +<p>“What is the moral of your life?” she demanded +bluntly.</p> + +<p>He was quick to note the contemptuous tone in her voice, and he +gave her a keen, searching look as if he were trying to read her +thoughts and fathom the reason for her very evident hostility +towards him.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I mean, What can you show as your life work? Most men +whose lives are big enough to call for biographies have done +something useful—they have been famous statesmen, eminent +scientists, celebrated authors, great inventors. What have you +done?”</p> + +<p>The question appeared to stagger him. The audacity of any one +putting such a question to a man in his own house was incredible. +He squared his jaws and his clenched fist descended heavily on the +table.</p> + +<p>“What have I done?” he cried. “I have built +up the greatest fortune ever accumulated by one man. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page322" id="page322" title="322"></a> +My fabulous wealth has caused my name to spread to the four +corners of the earth. Is that not an achievement to relate to +future generations?”</p> + +<p>Shirley gave a little shrug of her shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Future generations will take no interest in you or your +millions,” she said calmly. “Our civilization will +have made such progress by that time that people will merely +wonder why we, in our day, tolerated men of your class so long. +Now it is different. The world is money-mad. You are a person of +importance in the eyes of the unthinking multitude, but it only +envies you your fortune; it does not admire you personally. When +you die people will count your millions, not your good +deeds.”</p> + +<p>He laughed cynically and drew up a chair near her desk. As a +general thing, John Ryder never wasted words on women. He had but +a poor opinion of their mentality, and considered it beneath the +dignity of any man to enter into serious argument with a woman. +In fact, it was seldom he condescended to argue with anyone. He +gave orders and talked to people; he had no patience to be talked +to. Yet he found himself listening with interest to this young +woman who expressed herself so frankly. It was a decided novelty +for him to hear the truth.</p> + +<a name="photo4" id="photo4"></a> +<blockquote class="illustration"><a href="images/photo4.jpg"> +<img src="images/photo4.png" width="450" height="265" +alt="[Photo, from the play, +of Mr. Ryder discussing his son with Miss Green.]" /></a></blockquote> +<blockquote class="central">“Marry Jefferson +yourself.”—Act III.</blockquote> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page323" id="page323" title="323"></a> +<p>“What do I care what the world says when I'm dead?” +he asked with a forced laugh.</p> + +<p>“You do care,” replied Shirley gravely. “You +may school yourself to believe that you are indifferent to the +good opinion of your fellow man, but right down in your heart you +do care—every man does, whether he be multi-millionaire or a +sneak thief.”</p> + +<p>“You class the two together, I notice,” he said +bitterly.</p> + +<p>“It is often a distinction without a difference,” +she rejoined promptly.</p> + +<p>He remained silent for a moment or two toying nervously with a +paper knife. Then, arrogantly, and as if anxious to impress her +with his importance, he said:</p> + +<p>“Most men would be satisfied if they had accomplished +what I have. Do you realize that my wealth is so vast that I +scarcely know myself what I am worth? What my fortune will be in +another fifty years staggers the imagination. Yet I started with +nothing. I made it all myself. Surely I should get credit for +that.”</p> + +<p>“<i>How</i> did you make it?” retorted Shirley.</p> + +<p>“In America we don't ask how a man makes his money; we +ask if he has got any.”</p> + +<p>“You are mistaken,” replied Shirley earnestly. +“America is waking up. The conscience of the nation +<a class="pagebreak" name="page324" id="page324" title="324"></a> +is being aroused. We are coming to realize that the scandals of +the last few years were only the fruit of public indifference to +sharp business practice. The people will soon ask the dishonest +rich man where he got it, and there will have to be an accounting. +<a name="insquote6" id="insquote6"></a> +What account will you be able to give?”</p> + +<p>He bit his lip and looked at her for a moment without replying. +Then, with a faint suspicion of a sneer, he said:</p> + +<p>“You are a socialist—perhaps an +anarchist!”</p> + +<p>“Only the ignorant commit the blunder of confounding the +two,” she retorted. “Anarchy is a disease; socialism +is a science.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” he exclaimed mockingly, “I thought +the terms were synonymous. The world regards them both as +insane.”</p> + +<p>Herself an enthusiastic convert to the new political faith that +was rising like a flood tide all over the world, the contemptuous +tone in which this plutocrat spoke of the coming reorganization of +society which was destined to destroy him and his kind spurred her +on to renewed argument.</p> + +<p>“I imagine,” she said sarcastically, “that +you would hardly approve any social reform which threatened to +interfere with your own business methods. But no matter how you +disapprove of socialism on general +<a class="pagebreak" name="page325" id="page325" title="325"></a> +principles, as a leader of the capitalist class you should +understand what socialism is, and not confuse one of the most +important movements in modern world-history with the crazy +theories of irresponsible cranks. The anarchists are the natural +enemies of the entire human family, and would destroy it were +their dangerous doctrines permitted to prevail; the socialists, on +the contrary, are seeking to save mankind from the degradation, +the crime and the folly into which such men as you have driven +it.”</p> + +<p>She spoke impetuously, with the inspired exaltation of a +prophet delivering a message to the people. Ryder listened, +concealing his impatience with uneasy little coughs.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she went on, “I am a socialist and I +am proud of it. The whole world is slowly drifting toward +socialism as the only remedy for the actual intolerable +conditions. It may not come in our time, but it will come as +surely as the sun will rise and set tomorrow. Has not the flag of +socialism waved recently from the White House? Has not a President +of the United States declared that the State must eventually curb +the great fortunes? What is that but socialism?”</p> + +<p>“True,” retorted Ryder grimly, “and that +little speech intended for the benefit of the gallery will cost +him the nomination at the next Presidential election. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page326" id="page326" title="326"></a> +We don't want in the White House a President who stirs up class +hatred. Our rich men have a right to what is their own; that is +guaranteed them by the Constitution.”</p> + +<p>“Is it their own?” interrupted Shirley.</p> + +<p>Ryder ignored the insinuation and proceeded:</p> + +<p>“What of our boasted free institutions if a man is to be +restricted in what he may and may not do? If I am clever enough +to accumulate millions who can stop me?”</p> + +<p>“The people will stop you,” said Shirley calmly. +“It is only a question of time. Their patience is about +exhausted. Put your ear to the ground and listen to the distant +rumbling of the tempest which, sooner or later, will be unchained +in this land, provoked by the iniquitous practices of organized +capital. The people have had enough of the extortions of the +Trusts. One day they will rise in their wrath and seize by the +throat this knavish plutocracy which, confident in the power of +its wealth to procure legal immunity and reckless of its danger, +persists in robbing the public daily. But retribution is at hand. +The growing discontent of the proletariat, the ever-increasing +strikes and labour disputes of all kinds, the clamour against the +Railroads and the Trusts, the evidence of collusion between +both—all this is the writing +<a class="pagebreak" name="page327" id="page327" title="327"></a> +on the wall. The capitalistic system is doomed; socialism will +succeed it.”</p> + +<p>“What is socialism?” he demanded scornfully. +“What will it give the public that it has not got +already?”</p> + +<p>Shirley, who never neglected an opportunity to make a convert, +no matter how hardened he might be, picked up a little pamphlet +printed for propaganda purposes which she had that morning +received by mail.</p> + +<p>“Here,” she said, “is one of the best and +clearest definitions of socialism I have ever read:</p> + +<p>“Socialism is common ownership of natural resources and +public utilities, and the common operation of all industries for +the general good. Socialism is opposed to monopoly, that is, to +private ownership of land and the instruments of labor, which is +indirect ownership of men; to the wages system, by which labor is +legally robbed of a large part of the product of labor; to +competition with its enormous waste of effort and its +opportunities for the spoliation of the weak by the strong. +Socialism is industrial democracy. It is the government of the +people by the people and for the people, not in the present +restricted sense, but as regards all the common interests of men. +Socialism is opposed to oligarchy +<a class="pagebreak" name="page328" id="page328" title="328"></a> +and monarchy, and therefore to the tyrannies of business cliques +and money kings. Socialism is for freedom, not only from the fear +of force, but from the fear of want. Socialism proposes real +liberty, not merely the right to vote, but the liberty to live for +something more than meat and drink.</p> + +<p>“Socialism is righteousness in the relations of men. It +is based on the fundamentals of religion, the Fatherhood of God +and the Brotherhood of men. It seeks through association and +equality to realize fraternity. Socialism will destroy the +motives which make for cheap manufacturers, poor workmanship and +adulterations; it will secure the real utility of things. Use, not +exchange, will be the object of labour. Things will be made to +serve, not to sell. Socialism will banish war, for private +ownership is back of strife between men. Socialism will purify +politics, for private capitalism is the great source of political +corruption. Socialism will make for education, invention and +discovery; it will stimulate the moral development of men. Crime +will have lost most of its motive and pauperism will have no +excuse. That,” said Shirley, as she concluded, “is +socialism!”</p> + +<p>Ryder shrugged his shoulders and rose to go.</p> + +<p>“Delightful,” he said ironically, “but in my +judgment wholly Utopian and impracticable. It's nothing +<a class="pagebreak" name="page329" id="page329" title="329"></a> +but a gigantic pipe dream. It won't come in this generation nor in +ten generations if, indeed, it is ever taken seriously by a +majority big enough to put its theories to the test. Socialism +does not take into account two great factors that move the +world—men's passions and human ambition. If you eliminate +ambition you remove the strongest incentive to individual effort. +From your own account a socialistic world would be a dreadfully +tame place to live in—everybody depressingly good, without +any of the feverish turmoil of life as we know it. Such a world +would not appeal to me at all. I love the fray—the daily +battle of gain and loss, the excitement of making or losing +millions. That is my life!”</p> + +<p>“Yet what good is your money to you?” insisted +Shirley. “You are able to spend only an infinitesimal part +of it. You cannot even give it away, for nobody will have any of +it.”</p> + +<p>“Money!” he hissed rather than spoke, “I hate +money. It means nothing to me. I have so much that I have lost all +idea of its value. I go on accumulating it for only one purpose. +It buys power. I love power—that is my passion, my ambition, +to rule the world with my gold. Do you know,” he went on and +leaning over the desk in a dramatic attitude, “that if I +chose I could start a panic in Wall Street to-morrow +<a class="pagebreak" name="page330" id="page330" title="330"></a> +that would shake to their foundations every financial institution +in the country? Do you know that I practically control the +Congress of the United States and that no legislative measure +becomes law unless it has my approval?”</p> + +<p>“The public has long suspected as much,” replied +Shirley. “That is why you are looked upon as a menace to the +stability and honesty of our political and commercial +life.”</p> + +<p>An angry answer rose to his lips when the door opened and Mrs. +Ryder entered.</p> + +<p>“I've been looking for you, John,” she said +peevishly. “Mr. Bagley told me you were somewhere in the +house. Senator Roberts is downstairs.”</p> + +<p>“He's come about Jefferson and his daughter, I +suppose,” muttered Ryder. “Well, I'll see him. Where +is he?”</p> + +<p>“In the library. Kate came with him. She's in my +room.”</p> + +<p>They left Shirley to her writing, and when he had closed the +door the financier turned to his wife and said impatiently:</p> + +<p>“Now, what are we going to do about Jefferson and Kate? +The senator insists on the matter of their marriage being settled +one way or another. Where is Jefferson?”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page331" id="page331" title="331"></a> +<p>“He came in about half an hour ago. He was upstairs to +see me, and I thought he was looking for you,” answered the +wife.</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Ryder determinedly, “he and I +have got to understand each other. This can't go on. It +shan't.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ryder put her hand on his arm, and said pleadingly:</p> + +<p>“Don't be impatient with the boy, John. Remember he is +all we have. He is so unhappy. He wants to please us, +but—”</p> + +<p>“But he insists on pleasing himself,” said Ryder +completing the sentence.</p> + +<p>“I'm afraid, John, that his liking for that Miss Rossmore +is more serious than you realize—”</p> + +<p>The financier stamped his foot and replied angrily:</p> + +<p>“Miss Rossmore! That name seems to confront me at every +turn—for years the father, now the daughter! I'm sorry, my +dear,” he went on more calmly, “that you seem inclined +to listen to Jefferson. It only encourages him in his attitude +towards me. Kate would make him an excellent wife, while what do +we know about the other woman? Are you willing to sacrifice your +son's future to a mere boyish whim?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ryder sighed.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page332" id="page332" title="332"></a> +<p>“It's very hard,” she said, “for a mother to +know what to advise. Miss Green says—”</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed her husband, “you have +consulted Miss Green on the subject?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered his wife, “I don't know how I +came to tell her, but I did. I seem to tell her everything. I +find her such a comfort, John. I haven't had an attack of nerves +since that girl has been in the house.”</p> + +<p>“She is certainly a superior woman,” admitted +Ryder. “I wish she'd ward that Rossmore girl off. I wish +she—” He stopped abruptly as if not venturing to give +expression to his thoughts, even to his wife. Then he said: +“If she were Kate Roberts she wouldn't let Jeff slip through +her fingers.”</p> + +<p>“I have often wished,” went on Mrs. Ryder, +“that Kate were more like Shirley Green. I don't think we +would have any difficulty with Jeff then.”</p> + +<p>“Kate is the daughter of Senator Roberts, and if this +marriage is broken off in any way without the senator's consent, +he is in a position to injure my interests materially. If you see +Jefferson send him to me in the library. I'll go and keep Roberts +in good humour until he comes.”</p> + +<p>He went downstairs and Mrs. Ryder proceeded to her apartments, +where she found Jefferson chatting +<a class="pagebreak" name="page333" id="page333" title="333"></a> +with Kate. She at once delivered Ryder Sr.'s message.</p> + +<p>“Jeff, your father wants to see you in the +library.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I want to see him,” answered the young man +grimly, and after a few moments more badinage with Kate he left +the room.</p> + +<p>It was not a mere coincidence that had brought Senator Roberts +and his daughter and the financier's son all together under the +Ryder roof at the same time. It was part of Jefferson's +well-prepared plan to expose the rascality of his father's +secretary, and at the same time rid himself of the embarrassing +entanglement with Kate Roberts. If the senator were confronted +publicly with the fact that his daughter, while keeping up the +fiction of being engaged to Ryder Jr., was really preparing to run +off with the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, he would have no alternative but +to retire gracefully under fire and relinquish all idea of a +marriage alliance with the house of Ryder. The critical moment +had arrived. To-morrow, Wednesday, was the day fixed for the +elopement. The secretary's little game had gone far enough. The +time had come for action. So Jefferson had written to Senator +Roberts, who was in Washington, asking him if it would be +convenient for him to come at once to New York and meet himself +and his father on a matter +<a class="pagebreak" name="page334" id="page334" title="334"></a> +of importance. The senator naturally jumped to the conclusion that +Jefferson and Ryder had reached an amicable understanding, and he +immediately hurried to New York and with his daughter came round +to Seventy-fourth Street.</p> + +<p>When Ryder Sr. entered the library, Senator Roberts was +striding nervously up and down the room. This, he felt, was an +important day. The ambition of his life seemed on the point of +being attained.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Roberts,” was Ryder's cheerful greeting. +“What's brought you from Washington at a critical time like +this? The Rossmore impeachment needs every friend we +have.”</p> + +<p>“Just as if you didn't know,” smiled the senator +uneasily, “that I am here by appointment to meet you and +your son!”</p> + +<p>“To meet me and my son?” echoed Ryder +astonished.</p> + +<p>The senator, perplexed and beginning to feel real alarm, showed +the financier Jefferson's letter. Ryder read it and he looked +pleased.</p> + +<p>“That's all right,” he said, “if the lad +asked you to meet us here it can mean only one thing—that at +last he has made up his mind to this marriage.”</p> + +<p>“That's what I thought,” replied the senator, +breathing more freely. “I was sorry to leave Washington +<a class="pagebreak" name="page335" id="page335" title="335"></a> +at such a time, but I'm a father, and Kate is more to me than the +Rossmore impeachment. Besides, to see her married to your son +Jefferson is one of the dearest wishes of my life.”</p> + +<p>“You can rest easy,” said Ryder; “that is +practically settled. Jefferson's sending for you proves that he is +now ready to meet my wishes. He'll be here any minute. How is the +Rossmore case progressing?”</p> + +<p>“Not so well as it might,” growled the senator. +“There's a lot of maudlin sympathy for the judge. He's a +pretty sick man by all accounts, and the newspapers seem to be +taking his part. One or two of the Western senators are talking +Corporate influence and Trust legislation, but when it comes to a +vote the matter will be settled on party lines.”</p> + +<p>“That means that Judge Rossmore will be removed?” +demanded Ryder sternly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, with five votes to spare,” answered the +senator.</p> + +<p>“That's not enough,” insisted Ryder. “There +must be at least twenty. Let there be no blunders, Roberts. The +man is a menace to all the big commercial interests. This thing +must go through.”</p> + +<p>The door opened and Jefferson appeared. On seeing the senator +talking with his father, he hesitated on the threshold.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page336" id="page336" title="336"></a> +<p>“Come in, Jeff,” said his father pleasantly. +“You expected to see Senator Roberts, didn't you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. How do you do, Senator?” said the young +man, advancing into the room.</p> + +<p>“I got your letter, my boy, and here I am,” said +the senator smiling affably. “I suppose we can guess what +the business is, eh?”</p> + +<p>“That he's going to marry Kate, of course,” chimed +in Ryder Sr. “Jeff, my lad, I'm glad you are beginning to +see my way of looking at things. You're doing more to please me +lately, and I appreciate it. You stayed at home when I asked you +to, and now you've made up your mind regarding this +marriage.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson let his father finish his speech, and then he said +calmly:</p> + +<p>“I think there must be some misapprehension as to the +reason for my summoning Senator Roberts to New York. It had +nothing to do with my marrying Miss Roberts, but to prevent her +marriage with someone else.”</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Ryder, Sr.</p> + +<p>“Marriage with someone else?” echoed the senator. +He thought he had not heard aright, yet at the same time he had +grave misgivings. “What do you mean, sir?”</p> + +<p>Taking from his pocket a copy of the letter he had +<a class="pagebreak" name="page337" id="page337" title="337"></a> +picked up on the staircase, Jefferson held it out to the girl's +father.</p> + +<p>“Your daughter is preparing to run away with my father's +secretary. To-morrow would have been too late. That is why I +summoned you. Read this.”</p> + +<p>The senator took the letter, and as he read his face grew ashen +and his hand trembled violently. At one blow all his ambitious +projects for his daughter had been swept away. The inconsiderate +act of a silly, thoughtless girl had spoiled the carefully laid +plans of a lifetime. The only consolation which remained was that +the calamity might have been still more serious. This timely +warning had saved his family from perhaps an even greater scandal. +He passed the letter in silence to Ryder, Sr.</p> + +<p>The financier was a man of few words when the situation called +for prompt action. After he had read the letter through, there was +an ominous silence. Then he rang a bell. The butler appeared.</p> + +<p>“Tell Mr. Bagley I want him.”</p> + +<p>The man bowed and disappeared.</p> + +<p>“Who the devil is this Bagley?” demanded the +senator.</p> + +<p>“English—blue blood—no money,” was +Ryder's laconic answer.</p> + +<p>“That's the only kind we seem to get over here,” +<a class="pagebreak" name="page338" id="page338" title="338"></a> +growled the senator. “We furnish the money—they +furnish the blood—damn his blue blood! I don't want any in +mine.” Turning to Jefferson, he said: “Jefferson, +whatever the motives that actuated you, I can only thank you for +this warning. I think it would have broken my heart if my girl had +gone away with that scoundrel. Of course, under the circumstances, +I must abandon all idea of your becoming my son-in-law. I release +you from all obligations you may have felt yourself bound +by.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson bowed and remained silent.</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr. eyed his son closely, an amused expression hovering +on his face. After all, it was not so much he who had desired this +match as Roberts, and as long as the senator was willing to +withdraw, he could make no objection. He wondered what part, if +any, his son had played in bringing about this sensational +denouement to a match which had been so distasteful to him, and it +gratified his paternal vanity to think that Jefferson after all +might be smarter than he had given him credit for.</p> + +<p>At this juncture Mr. Bagley entered the room. He was a little +taken aback on seeing the senator, but like most men of his class, +his self-conceit made him confident of his ability to handle any +emergency which might arise, and he had no reason to suspect that +this +<a class="pagebreak" name="page339" id="page339" title="339"></a> +hasty summons to the library had anything to do with his +matrimonial plans.</p> + +<p>“Did you ask for me, sir?” he demanded, addressing +his employer.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Bagley,” replied Ryder, fixing the +secretary with a look that filled the latter with misgivings. +“What steamers leave to-morrow for England?”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow?” echoed Mr. Bagley.</p> + +<p>“I said to-morrow,” repeated Ryder, slightly +raising his voice.</p> + +<p>“Let me see,” stammered the secretary, “there +is the White Star, the North German Lloyd, the Atlantic +Transport—”</p> + +<p>“Have you any preference?” inquired the +financier.</p> + +<p>“No, sir, none at all.”</p> + +<p>“Then you'll go on board one of the ships +to-night,” said Ryder. “Your things will be packed and +sent to you before the steamer sails to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>The Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, third son of a British peer, did not +understand even yet that he was discharged as one dismisses a +housemaid caught kissing the policeman. He could not think what +Mr. Ryder wanted him to go abroad for unless it were on some +matter of business, and it was decidedly inconvenient for him to +sail at this time.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page340" id="page340" title="340"></a> +<p>“But, sir,” he stammered. “I'm +afraid—I'm afraid—”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” rejoined Ryder promptly, “I notice +that—your hand is shaking.”</p> + +<p>“I mean that I—”</p> + +<p>“You mean that you have other engagements!” said +Ryder sternly.</p> + +<p>“Oh no—no but—”</p> + +<p>“No engagement at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning?” +insisted Ryder.</p> + +<p>“With my daughter?” chimed in the senator.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagley now understood. He broke out in a cold perspiration +and he paled visibly. In the hope that the full extent of his +plans were not known, he attempted to brazen it out.</p> + +<p>“No, certainly not, under no circumstances,” he +said.</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr. rang a bell.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she has an engagement with you. We'll ask +her.” To the butler, who entered, he said: “Tell Miss +Roberts that her father would like to see her here.”</p> + +<p>The man disappeared and the senator took a hand in +cross-examining the now thoroughly uncomfortable secretary.</p> + +<p>“So you thought my daughter looked pale and that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page341" id="page341" title="341"></a> +a little excursion to Buffalo would be a good thing for her? Well, +it won't be a good thing for you, young man, I can assure you of +that!”</p> + +<p>The English aristocrat began to wilt. His assurance of manner +quite deserted him and he stammered painfully as he floundered +about in excuses.</p> + +<p>“Not with me—oh dear, no,” he said.</p> + +<p>“You never proposed to run away with my daughter?” +cried the irate father.</p> + +<p>“Run away with her?” stammered Bagley.</p> + +<p>“And marry her?” shouted the senator, shaking his +fist at him.</p> + +<p>“Oh say—this is hardly fair—three against +one—really—I'm awfully sorry, eh, what?”</p> + +<p>The door opened and Kate Roberts bounced in. She was smiling +and full of animal spirits, but on seeing the stern face of her +father and the pitiable picture presented by her faithful Fitz she +was intelligent enough to immediately scent danger.</p> + +<p>“Did you want to see me, father?” she inquired +boldly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Kate,” answered the senator gravely, +“we have just been having a talk with Mr. Bagley, in which +you were one of the subjects of conversation. Can you guess what +it was?”</p> + +<p>The girl looked from her father to Bagley and from +<a class="pagebreak" name="page342" id="page342" title="342"></a> +him to the Ryders. Her aristocratic lover made a movement forward +as if to exculpate himself, but he caught Ryder's eye and remained +where he was.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said, with a nervous laugh.</p> + +<p>“Is it true” asked the senator, “that you +were about to marry this man secretly?”</p> + +<p>She cast down her eyes and answered:</p> + +<p>“I suppose you know everything.”</p> + +<p>“Have you anything to add?” asked her father +sternly.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Kate shaking her head. “It's true. +We intended to run away, didn't we Fitz?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind about Mr. Bagley,” thundered her +father. “Haven't you a word of shame for this disgrace you +have brought upon me?”</p> + +<p>“Oh papa, don't be so cross. Jefferson did not care for +me. I couldn't be an old maid. Mr. Bagley has a lovely castle in +England, and one day he'll sit in the House of Lords. He'll +explain everything to you.”</p> + +<p>“He'll explain nothing,” rejoined the senator +grimly. “Mr. Bagley returns to England to-night. He won't +have time to explain anything.”</p> + +<p>“Returns to England?” echoed Kate dismayed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and you go with me to Washington at +once.”</p> + +<p>The senator turned to Ryder.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye Ryder. The little domestic comedy is +<a class="pagebreak" name="page343" id="page343" title="343"></a> +ended. I'm grateful it didn't turn out a drama. The next time I +pick out a son-in-law I hope I'll have better luck.”</p> + +<p>He shook hands with Jefferson, and left the room followed by +his crestfallen daughter.</p> + +<p>Ryder, who had gone to write something at his desk, strode over +to where Mr. Bagley was standing and handed him a cheque.</p> + +<p>“Here, sir, this settles everything to date. +Good-day.”</p> + +<p>“But I—I—” stammered the secretary +helplessly.</p> + +<p>“Good-day, sir.”</p> + +<p>Ryder turned his back on him and conversed with, his son, while +Mr. Bagley slowly, and as if regretfully, made his exit.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page344" id="page344" title="344"></a> +<a name="chapter15" id="chapter15"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p>It was now December and the Senate had been in session for over +a week. Jefferson had not forgotten his promise, and one day, +about two weeks after Mr. Bagley's spectacular dismissal from the +Ryder residence, he had brought Shirley the two letters. She did +not ask him how he got them, if he forced the drawer or procured +the key. It sufficed for her that the precious letters—the +absolute proof of her father's innocence—were at last in her +possession. She at once sent them off by registered mail to +Stott, who immediately acknowledged receipt and at the same time +announced his departure for Washington that night. He promised to +keep her constantly informed of what he was doing and how her +father's case was going. It could, he thought, be only a matter of +a few days now before the result of the proceedings would be +known.</p> + +<p>The approach of the crisis made Shirley exceedingly nervous, +and it was only by the exercise of the greatest self-control that +she did not betray the terrible anxiety she felt. The Ryder +biography was nearly finished +<a class="pagebreak" name="page345" id="page345" title="345"></a> +and her stay in Seventy-fourth Street would soon come to an end. +She had a serious talk with Jefferson, who contrived to see a good +deal of her, entirely unsuspected by his parents, for Mr. and Mrs. +Ryder had no reason to believe that their son had any more than a +mere bowing acquaintance with the clever young authoress. Now that +Mr. Bagley was no longer there to spy upon their actions these +clandestine interviews had been comparatively easy. Shirley +brought to bear all the arguments she could think of to convince +Jefferson of the hopelessness of their engagement. She insisted +that she could never be his wife; circumstances over which they +had no control made that dream impossible. It were better, she +said, to part now rather than incur the risk of being unhappy +later. But Jefferson refused to be convinced. He argued and +pleaded and he even swore—strange, desperate words that +Shirley had never heard before and which alarmed her not a +little—and the discussion ended usually by a kiss which put +Shirley completely <i>hors de combat</i>.</p> + +<p>Meantime, John Ryder had not ceased worrying about his son. The +removal of Kate Roberts as a factor in his future had not +eliminated the danger of Jefferson taking the bit between his +teeth one day and contracting a secret marriage with the daughter +<a class="pagebreak" name="page346" id="page346" title="346"></a> +of his enemy, and when he thought of the mere possibility of such +a thing happening he stormed and raved until his wife, accustomed +as she was to his choleric outbursts, was thoroughly frightened. +For some time after Bagley's departure, father and son got along +together fairly amicably, but Ryder, Sr. was quick to see that +Jefferson had something on his mind which was worrying him, and he +rightly attributed it to his infatuation for Miss Rossmore. He was +convinced that his son knew where the judge's daughter was, +although his own efforts to discover her whereabouts had been +unsuccessful. Sergeant Ellison had confessed absolute failure; +Miss Rossmore, he reported, had disappeared as completely as if +the earth had swallowed her, and further search was futile. +Knowing well his son's impulsive, headstrong disposition, Ryder, +Sr. believed him quite capable of marrying the girl secretly any +time. The only thing that John Ryder did not know was that Shirley +Rossmore was not the kind of a girl to allow any man to inveigle +her into a secret marriage. The Colossus, who judged the world's +morals by his own, was not of course aware of this, and he worried +night and day thinking what he could do to prevent his son from +marrying the daughter of the man he had wronged.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page347" id="page347" title="347"></a> +<p>The more he pondered over it, the more he regretted that there +was not some other girl with whom Jefferson could fall in love and +marry. He need not seek a rich girl—there was certainly +enough money in the Ryder family to provide for both. He wished +they knew a girl, for example, as attractive and clever as Miss +Green. Ah! he thought, there was a girl who would make a man of +Jefferson—brainy, ambitious, active! And the more he thought +of it the more the idea grew on him that Miss Green would be an +ideal daughter-in-law, and at the same time snatch his son from +the clutches of the Rossmore woman.</p> + +<p>Jefferson, during all these weeks, was growing more and more +impatient. He knew that any day now Shirley might take her +departure from their house and return to Massapequa. If the +impeachment proceedings went against her father it was more than +likely that he would lose her forever, and if, on the contrary, +the judge were acquitted, Shirley never would be willing to marry +him without his father's consent; and this, he felt, he would +never obtain. He resolved, therefore, to have a final interview +with his father and declare boldly his intention of making Miss +Rossmore his wife, regardless of the consequences.</p> + +<p>The opportunity came one evening after dinner. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page348" id="page348" title="348"></a> +Ryder, Sr. was sitting alone in the library, reading, Mrs. Ryder +had gone to the theatre with a friend, Shirley as usual was +writing in her room, giving the final touches to her now completed +“History of the Empire Trading Company.” Jefferson +took the bull by the horns and boldly accosted his redoubtable +parent.</p> + +<p>“May I have a few minutes of your time, +father?”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr. laid aside the paper he was reading and looked up. +It was unusual for his son to come to him on any errand, and he +liked to encourage it.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Jefferson. What is it?”</p> + +<p>“I want to appeal to you, sir. I want you to use your +influence, before it is too late, to save Judge Rossmore. A word +from you at this time would do wonders in Washington.”</p> + +<p>The financier swung half-round in his chair, the smile of +greeting faded out of his face, and his voice was hard as he +replied coldly:</p> + +<p>“Again? I thought we had agreed not to discuss Judge +Rossmore any further?”</p> + +<p>“I can't help it, sir,” rejoined Jefferson +undeterred by his sire's hostile attitude, “that poor old +man is practically on trial for his life. He is as innocent of +wrongdoing as a child unborn, and you know it. You could save him +if you would.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page349" id="page349" title="349"></a> +<p>“Jefferson,” answered Ryder, Sr., biting his lip to +restrain his impatience, “I told you before that I could not +interfere even if I would; and I won't, because that man is my +enemy. Important business interests, which you cannot possibly +know anything about, demand his dismissal from the +bench.”</p> + +<p>“Surely your business interests don't demand the +sacrifice of a man's life!” retorted Jefferson. “I +know modern business methods are none too squeamish, but I should +think you'd draw the line at deliberate murder!”</p> + +<p>Ryder sprang to his feet and for a moment stood glaring at the +young man. His lips moved, but no sound came from them. Suppressed +wrath rendered him speechless. What was the world coming to when a +son could talk to his father in this manner?</p> + +<p>“How dare you presume to judge my actions or to criticise +my methods?” he burst out; finally.</p> + +<p>“You force me to do so,” answered Jefferson hotly. +<a name="typo4" id="typo4"></a> +“I want to tell you that I am heartily ashamed of this whole +affair and your connection with it, and since you refuse to make +reparation in the only way possible for the wrong you and your +associates have done Judge Rossmore—that is by saving him in +the Senate—I think it only fair to warn you that I take back +my word in regard to not marrying without +<a class="pagebreak" name="page350" id="page350" title="350"></a> +your consent. I want you to know that I intend to marry Miss +Rossmore as soon as she will consent to become my wife, that +is,” he added with bitterness, “if I can succeed in +overcoming her prejudices against my family—”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr. laughed contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“Prejudices against a thousand million dollars?” he +exclaimed sceptically.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Jefferson decisively, +“prejudices against our family, against you and your +business practices. Money is not everything. One day you will find +that out. I tell you definitely that I intend to make Miss +Rossmore my wife.”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr. made no reply, and as Jefferson had expected an +explosion, this unnatural calm rather startled him. He was sorry +he had spoken so harshly. It was his father, after all.</p> + +<p>“You've forced me to defy you, father,” he added. +“I'm sorry—”</p> + +<p>Ryder, Sr. shrugged his shoulders and resumed his seat. He lit +another cigar, and with affected carelessness he said:</p> + +<p>“All right, Jeff, my boy, we'll let it go at that You're +sorry—so am I. You've shown me your cards—I'll show +you mine.”</p> + +<p>His composed unruffled manner vanished. He +<a class="pagebreak" name="page351" id="page351" title="351"></a> +suddenly threw off the mask and revealed the tempest that was +raging within. He leaned across the desk, his face convulsed with +uncontrollable passion, a terrifying picture of human wrath. +Shaking his fist at his son he shouted:</p> + +<p>“When I get through with Judge Rossmore at Washington, +I'll start after his daughter. This time to-morrow he'll be a +disgraced man. A week later she will be a notorious woman. Then +we'll see if you'll be so eager to marry her!”</p> + +<p>“Father!” cried Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“There is sure to be something in her life that won't +bear inspection,” sneered Ryder. “There is in +everybody's life. I'll find out what it is. Where is she to-day? +She can't be found. No one knows where she is—not even her +own mother. Something is wrong—the girl's no +good!”</p> + +<p>Jefferson started forward as if to resent these insults to the +woman he loved, but, realizing that it was his own father, he +stopped short and his hands fell powerless at his side.</p> + +<p>“Well, is that all?” inquired Ryder, Sr. with a +sneer.</p> + +<p>“That's all,” replied Jefferson, “I'm going. +Good-bye.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page352" id="page352" title="352"></a> +<p>“Good-bye,” answered his father indifferently; +“leave your address with your mother.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson left the room, and Ryder, Sr., as if exhausted by the +violence of his own outburst, sank back limp in his chair. The +crisis he dreaded had come at last. His son had openly defied his +authority and was going to marry the daughter of his enemy. He +must do something to prevent it; the marriage must not take place, +but what could he do? The boy was of age and legally his own +master. He could do nothing to restrain his actions unless they +put him in an insane asylum. He would rather see his son there, he +mused, than married to the Rossmore woman.</p> + +<p>Presently there was a timid knock at the library door. Ryder +rose from his seat and went to see who was there. To his surprise +it was Miss Green.</p> + +<p>“May I come in?” asked Shirley.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, by all means. Sit down.”</p> + +<p>He drew up a chair for her, and his manner was so cordial that +it was easy to see she was a welcome visitor.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ryder,” she began in a low, tremulous voice, +“I have come to see you on a very important matter. I've +been waiting to see you all evening—and as I shall be here +only a short time longer I—want to ask you a great +favour—perhaps the greatest you were ever +<a class="pagebreak" name="page353" id="page353" title="353"></a> +asked—I want to ask you for mercy—for mercy +to—”</p> + +<p>She stopped and glanced nervously at him, but she saw he was +paying no attention to what she was saying. He was puffing heavily +at his cigar, entirely preoccupied with his own thoughts. Her +sudden silence aroused him. He apologized:</p> + +<p>“Oh, excuse me—I didn't quite catch what you were +saying.”</p> + +<p>She said nothing, wondering what had happened to render him so +absent-minded. He read the question in her face, for, turning +towards her, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“For the first time in my life I am face to face with +defeat—defeat of the most ignominious +kind—incapacity—inability to regulate my own internal +affairs. I can rule a government, but I can't manage my own +family—my own son. I'm a failure. Tell me,” he added, +appealing to her, “why can't I rule my own household, why +can't I govern my own child?”</p> + +<p>“Why can't you govern yourself?” said Shirley +quietly.</p> + +<p>Ryder looked keenly at her for a moment without answering her +question; then, as if prompted by a sudden inspiration, he +said:</p> + +<p>“You can help me, but not by preaching at me. This is +the first time in my life I ever called on a +<a class="pagebreak" name="page354" id="page354" title="354"></a> +living soul for help. I'm only accustomed to deal with men. This +time there's a woman in the case—and I need your woman's +wit—”</p> + +<p>“How can I help you?” asked Shirley.</p> + +<p>“I don't know,” he answered with suppressed +excitement. “As I told you, I am up against a blank wall. I +can't see my way.” He gave a nervous little laugh and went +on: “God! I'm ashamed of myself—ashamed! Did you ever +read the fable of the Lion and the Mouse? Well, I want you to gnaw +with your sharp woman's teeth at the cords which bind the son of +John Burkett Ryder to this Rossmore woman. I want you to be the +mouse—to set me free of this disgraceful +entanglement.”</p> + +<a name="insquote7" id="insquote7"></a> +<p>“How?” asked Shirley calmly.</p> + +<p>“Ah, that's just it—how?” he replied. +“Can't you think—you're a woman—you have youth, +beauty—brains.” He stopped and eyed her closely until +she reddened from the embarrassing scrutiny. Then he blurted out: +“By George! marry him yourself—force him to let go of +this other woman! Why not? Come, what do you say?”</p> + +<p>This unexpected suggestion came upon Shirley with all the force +of a violent shock. She immediately saw the falseness of her +position. This man was asking for her hand for his son under the +impression that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page355" id="page355" title="355"></a> +she was another woman. It would be dishonorable of her to keep up +the deception any longer. She passed her hand over her face to +conceal her confusion.</p> + +<p>“You—you must give me time to think,” she +stammered. “Suppose I don't love your son—I should +want something—something to compensate.”</p> + +<p>“Something to compensate?” echoed Ryder surprised +and a little disconcerted. “Why, the boy will inherit +millions—I don't know how many.”</p> + +<p>“No—no, not money,” rejoined Shirley; +“money only compensates those who love money. It's something +else—a man's honour—a man's life! It means nothing to +you.”</p> + +<p>He gazed at her, not understanding. Full of his own project, he +had mind for nothing else. Ignoring therefore the question of +compensation, whatever she might mean by that, he continued:</p> + +<p>“You can win him if you make up your mind to. A woman +with your resources can blind him to any other woman.”</p> + +<p>“But if—he loves Judge Rossmore's daughter?” +objected Shirley.</p> + +<p>“It's for you to make him forget her—and you +can,” replied the financier confidently. “My desire is +to separate him from this Rossmore woman at any +<a class="pagebreak" name="page356" id="page356" title="356"></a> +cost. You must help me.” His sternness relaxed somewhat and +his eyes rested on her kindly. “Do you know, I should be +glad to think you won't have to leave us. Mrs. Ryder has taken a +fancy to you, and I myself shall miss you when you go.”</p> + +<p>“You ask me to be your son's wife and you know nothing of +my family,” said Shirley.</p> + +<p>“I know you—that is sufficient,” he +replied.</p> + +<p>“No—no you don't,” returned Shirley, +“nor do you know your son. He has more constancy—more +strength of character than you think—and far more principle +than you have.”</p> + +<p>“So much the greater the victory for you,” he +answered good humouredly.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” she said reproachfully, “you do not +love your son.”</p> + +<p>“I do love him,” replied Ryder warmly. “It's +because I love him that I'm such a fool in this matter. Don't you +see that if he marries this girl it would separate us, and I +should lose him. I don't want to lose him. If I welcomed her to my +house it would make me the laughing-stock of all my friends and +business associates. Come, will you join forces with +me?”</p> + +<p>Shirley shook her head and was about to reply when +<a class="pagebreak" name="page357" id="page357" title="357"></a> +the telephone bell rang. Ryder took up the receiver and spoke to +the butler downstairs:</p> + +<p>“Who's that? Judge Stott? Tell him I'm too busy to see +anyone. What's that? A man's life at stake? What's that to do with +me? Tell him—”</p> + +<p>On hearing Stott's name, Shirley nearly betrayed herself. She +turned pale and half-started up from her chair. Something serious +must have happened to bring her father's legal adviser to the +Ryder residence at such an hour! She thought he was in Washington. +Could it be that the proceedings in the Senate were ended and the +result known? She could hardly conceal her anxiety, and +instinctively she placed her hand on Ryder's arm.</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Ryder, do see Judge Stott! You must see him. I +know who he is. Your son has told me. Judge Stott is one of Judge +Rossmore's advisers. See him. You may find out something about +the girl. You may find out where she is. If Jefferson finds out +you have refused to see her father's friend at such a critical +time it will only make him sympathize more deeply with the +Rossmores, and you know sympathy is akin to love. That's what you +want to avoid, isn't it?”</p> + +<p>Ryder still held the telephone, hesitating what to do. What she +said sounded like good sense.</p> + +<a name="insquote8" id="insquote8"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page358" id="page358" title="358"></a> +<p>“Upon my word—” he said. “You may be +right and yet—”</p> + +<p>“Am I to help you or not?” demanded Shirley. +“You said you wanted a woman's wit.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Ryder, “but +still—”</p> + +<p>“Then you had better see him,” she said +emphatically.</p> + +<p>Ryder turned to the telephone.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Jorkins, are you there? Show Judge Stott up +here.” He laid the receiver down and turned again to +Shirley. “That's one thing I don't like about you,” he +said. “I allow you to decide against me and then I agree +with you.” She said nothing and he went on looking at her +admiringly. “I predict that you'll bring that boy to your +feet within a month. I don't know why, but I seem to feel that he +is attracted to you already. Thank Heaven! you haven't a lot of +troublesome relations. I think you said you were almost alone in +the world. Don't look so serious,” he added laughing. +“Jeff is a fine fellow, and believe me an excellent catch as +the world goes.”</p> + +<p>Shirley raised her hand as if entreating him to desist.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don't—don't—please! My position is so +false! You don't know how false it is!” she cried.</p> + +<p>At that instant the library door was thrown open +<a class="pagebreak" name="page359" id="page359" title="359"></a> +and the butler appeared, ushering in Stott. The lawyer looked +anxious, and his dishevelled appearance indicated that he had come +direct from the train. Shirley scanned his face narrowly in the +hope that she might read there what had happened. He walked right +past her, giving no sign of recognition, and advanced direct +towards Ryder, who had risen and remained standing at his +desk.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I had better go?” ventured Shirley, +although tortured by anxiety to hear the news from Washington.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Ryder quickly, “Judge Stott will +detain me but a very few moments.”</p> + +<p>Having delivered himself of this delicate hint, he looked +towards his visitor as if inviting him to come to the point as +rapidly as possible.</p> + +<p>“I must apologize for intruding at this unseemly hour, +sir,” said Stott, “but time is precious. The Senate +meets to-morrow to vote. If anything is to be done for Judge +Rossmore it must be done to-night.”</p> + +<p>“I fail to see why you address yourself to me in this +matter, sir,” replied Ryder with asperity.</p> + +<p>“As Judge Rossmore's friend and counsel,” answered +Stott, “I am impelled to ask your help at this critical +moment.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page360" id="page360" title="360"></a> +<p>“The matter is in the hands of the United States Senate, +sir,” replied Ryder coldly.</p> + +<p>“They are against him!” cried Stott; “not one +senator I've spoken to holds out any hope for him. If he is +convicted it will mean his death. Inch by inch his life is leaving +him. The only thing that can save him is the good news of the +Senate's refusal to find him guilty.”</p> + +<p>Stott was talking so excitedly and loudly that neither he nor +Ryder heard the low moan that came from the corner of the room +where Shirley was standing listening.</p> + +<p>“I can do nothing,” repeated Ryder coldly, and he +turned his back and began to examine some papers lying on his desk +as if to notify the caller that the interview was ended. But Stott +was not so easily discouraged. He went on:</p> + +<p>“As I understand it, they will vote on strictly party +lines, and the party in power is against him. He's a marked man. +You have the power to help him.” Heedless of Ryder's gesture +of impatience he continued: “When I left his bedside +to-night, sir, I promised to return to him with good news; I have +told him that the Senate ridicules the charges against him. I must +return to him with good news. He is very ill to-night, sir.” +He halted for a moment and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page361" id="page361" title="361"></a> +glanced in Shirley's direction, and slightly raising his voice so +she might hear, he added: “If he gets worse we shall send +for his daughter.”</p> + +<p>“Where is his daughter?” demanded Ryder, suddenly +interested.</p> + +<p>“She is working in her father's interests,” replied +Stott, and, he added significantly, “I believe with some +hope of success.”</p> + +<p>He gave Shirley a quick, questioning look. She nodded +affirmatively. Ryder, who had seen nothing of this by-play, said +with a sneer:</p> + +<p>“Surely you didn't come here to-night to tell me +this?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I did not.” He took from his pocket two +letters—the two which Shirley had sent him—and held +them out for Ryder's inspection. “These letters from Judge +Rossmore to you,” he said, “show you to be acquainted +with the fact that he bought those shares as an +investment—and did not receive them as a bribe.”</p> + +<p>When he caught sight of the letters and he realized what they +were, Ryder changed colour. Instinctively his eyes sought the +drawer on the left-hand side of his desk. In a voice that was +unnaturally calm, he asked:</p> + +<p>“Why don't you produce them before the Senate?”</p> + +<p>“It was too late,” explained Stott, handing them to +<a class="pagebreak" name="page362" id="page362" title="362"></a> +the financier. “I received them only two days ago. But if +you come forward and declare—”</p> + +<p>Ryder made an effort to control himself.</p> + +<p>“I'll do nothing of the kind. I refuse to move in the +matter. That is final. And now, sir,” he added, raising his +voice and pointing to the letters, “I wish to know how comes +it that you had in your possession private correspondence +addressed to me?”</p> + +<p>“That I cannot answer,” replied Stott promptly.</p> + +<p>“From whom did you receive these letters?” demanded +Ryder.</p> + +<p>Stott was dumb, while Shirley clutched at her chair as if she +would fall. The financier repeated the question.</p> + +<p>“I must decline to answer,” replied Stott +finally.</p> + +<p>Shirley left her place and came slowly forward. Addressing +Ryder, she said:</p> + +<p>“I wish to make a statement.”</p> + +<p>The financier gazed at her in astonishment. What could she know +about it, he wondered, and he waited with curiosity to hear what +she was going to say. But Stott instantly realized that she was +about to take the blame upon herself, regardless of the +consequences to the success of their cause. This must be prevented +at all hazards, even if another must be sacrificed, so +interrupting her he said hastily to Ryder:</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page363" id="page363" title="363"></a> +<p>“Judge Rossmore's life and honour are at stake and no +false sense of delicacy must cause the failure of my object to +save him. These letters were sent to me by—your +son.”</p> + +<p>“From my son!” exclaimed Ryder, starting. For a +moment he staggered as if he had received a blow; he was too much +overcome to speak or act. Then recovering himself, he rang a bell, +and turned to Stott with renewed fury:</p> + +<p>“So,” he cried, “this man, this judge whose +honour is at stake and his daughter, who most likely has no honour +at stake, between them have made a thief and a liar of my son! +false to his father, false to his party; and you, sir, have the +presumption to come here and ask me to intercede for him!” +To the butler, who entered, he said: “See if Mr. Jefferson +is still in the house. If he is, tell him I would like to see him +here at once.”</p> + +<p>The man disappeared, and Ryder strode angrily up and down the +room with the letters in his hand. Then, turning abruptly on +Stott, he said:</p> + +<p>“And now, sir, I think nothing more remains to be said. I +shall keep these letters, as they are my property.”</p> + +<p>“As you please. Good night, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Good night,” replied Ryder, not looking up.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page364" id="page364" title="364"></a> +<p>With a significant glance at Shirley, who motioned to him that +she might yet succeed where he had failed, Stott left the room. +Ryder turned to Shirley. His fierceness of manner softened down as +he addressed the girl:</p> + +<p>“You see what they have done to my son—”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Shirley, “it's the girl's +fault. If Jefferson hadn't loved her you would have helped the +judge. Ah, why did they ever meet! She has worked on his sympathy +and he—he took these letters for her sake, not to injure +you. Oh, you must make some allowance for him! One's sympathy gets +aroused in spite of oneself; even I feel sorry for—these +people.”</p> + +<p>“Don't,” replied Ryder grimly, “sympathy is +often weakness. Ah, there you are!” turning to Jefferson, +who entered the room at that moment.</p> + +<p>“You sent for me, father?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Ryder, Sr., holding up the letters. +“Have you ever seen these letters before?”</p> + +<p>Jefferson took the letters and examined them, then he passed +them back to his father and said frankly:</p> + +<p>“Yes, I took them out of your desk and sent them to Mr. +Stott in the hope they would help Judge Rossmore's +case.”</p> + +<p>Ryder restrained himself from proceeding to actual +<a class="pagebreak" name="page365" id="page365" title="365"></a> +violence only with the greatest difficulty. His face grew white as +death, his lips were compressed, his hands twitched convulsively, +his eyes flashed dangerously. He took another cigar to give the +impression that he had himself well under control, but the violent +trembling of his hands as he lit it betrayed the terrific strain +he was under.</p> + +<p>“So!” he said, “you deliberately sacrificed +my interests to save this woman's father—you hear him, Miss +Green? Jefferson, my boy, I think it's time you and I had a final +accounting.”</p> + +<p>Shirley made a motion as if about to withdraw. He stopped her +with a gesture.</p> + +<p>“Please don't go, Miss Green. As the writer of my +biography you are sufficiently well acquainted with my family +affairs to warrant your being present at the epilogue. Besides, I +want an excuse for keeping my temper. Sit down, Miss +Green.”</p> + +<p>Turning to Jefferson, he went on:</p> + +<p>“For your mother's sake, my boy, I have overlooked your +little eccentricities of character. But now we have arrived at the +parting of the ways—you have gone too far. The one aspect of +this business I cannot overlook is your willingness to sell, your +own father for the sake of a woman.”</p> + +<p>“My own father,” interrupted Jefferson bitterly, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page366" id="page366" title="366"></a> +“would not hesitate to sell me if his business and political +interests warranted the sacrifice!”</p> + +<p>Shirley attempted the rôle of peacemaker. Appealing to the +younger man, she said:</p> + +<p>“Please don't talk like that, Mr. Jefferson.” Then +she turned to Ryder, Sr.: “I don't think your son quite +understands you, Mr. Ryder, and, if you will pardon me, I don't +think you quite understand him. Do you realize that there is a +man's life at stake—that Judge Rossmore is almost at the +point of death and that favourable news from the Senate to-morrow +is perhaps the only thing that can save him?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, I see,” sneered Ryder, Sr. “Judge +Stott's story has aroused your sympathy.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I—I confess my sympathy is aroused. I do feel +for this father whose life is slowly ebbing away—whose +strength is being sapped hourly by the thought of the +disgrace—the injustice that is being done him! I do feel +for the wife of this suffering man!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, its a complete picture!” cried Ryder +mockingly. +<a name="insquote3" id="insquote3"></a> +“The dying father, the sorrowing mother—and the +daughter, what is she supposed to be doing?”</p> + +<p>“She is fighting for her father's life,” cried +Shirley, “and you, Mr. Jefferson, should have +pleaded—pleaded—not demanded. It's no use trying to +combat your father's will.”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page367" id="page367" title="367"></a> +<p>“She is quite right, father. I should have implored you. +I do so now. I ask you for God's sake to help us!”</p> + +<p>Ryder was grim and silent. He rose from his seat and paced the +room, puffing savagely at his cigar. Then he turned and said:</p> + +<p>“His removal is a political necessity. If he goes back on +the bench every paltry justice of the peace, every petty official +will think he has a special mission to tear down the structure +that hard work and capital have erected. No, this man has been +especially conspicuous in his efforts to block the progress of +amalgamated interests.”</p> + +<p>“And so he must be sacrificed?” cried Shirley +indignantly.</p> + +<a name="insquote4" id="insquote4"></a> +<p>“He is a meddlesome man,” insisted Ryder +“and—”</p> + +<p>“He is innocent of the charges brought against +him,” urged Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ryder is not considering that point,” said +Shirley bitterly. “All he can see is that it is necessary to +put this poor old man in the public pillory, to set him up as a +warning to others of his class not to act in accordance with the +principles of Truth and Justice—not to dare to obstruct the +car of Juggernaut set in motion by the money gods of the +country!”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page368" id="page368" title="368"></a> +<p>“It's the survival of the fittest, my dear,” said +Ryder coldly.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” cried Shirley, making a last appeal to the +financier's heart of stone, “use your great influence with +this governing body for good, not evil! Urge them to vote not in +accordance with party policy and personal interest, but in +accordance with their consciences—in accordance with Truth +and Justice! Ah, for God's sake, Mr. Ryder! don't permit this foul +injustice to blot the name of the highest tribunal in the Western +world!”</p> + +<p>Ryder laughed cynically.</p> + +<p>“By Jove! Jefferson, I give you credit for having secured +an eloquent advocate!”</p> + +<p>“Suppose,” went on Shirley, ignoring his taunting +comments, “suppose this daughter promises that she will +never—never see your son again—that she will go away +to some foreign country!”</p> + +<p>“No!” burst in Jefferson, “why should she? If +my father is not man enough to do a simple act of justice without +bartering a woman's happiness and his son's happiness, let him +find comfort in his self-justification!”</p> + +<p>Shirley, completely unnerved, made a move towards the door, +unable longer to bear the strain she was under. She tottered as +though she would fall. Ryder +<a class="pagebreak" name="page369" id="page369" title="369"></a> +made a quick movement towards his son and took him by the arm. +Pointing to Shirley he said in a low tone:</p> + +<p>“You see how that girl pleads your cause for you! She +loves you, my boy!” Jefferson started. “Yes, she +does,” pursued Ryder, Sr. “She's worth a thousand of +the Rossmore woman. Make her your wife and I'll—”</p> + +<p>“Make her my wife!” cried Jefferson joyously. He +stared at his parent as if he thought he had suddenly been bereft +of his senses.</p> + +<p>“Make her my wife?” he repeated incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you say?” demanded Ryder, Sr.</p> + +<p>The young man advanced towards Shirley, hands outstretched.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, Shir—Miss Green, will you?” Seeing +that Shirley made no sign, he said: “Not now, father; I will +speak to her later.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, to-night, at once!” insisted Ryder. +Addressing Shirley, he went on: “Miss Green, my son is much +affected by your disinterested appeal in his behalf. +He—he—you can save him from himself—my son +wishes you—he asks you to become his wife! Is it not so, +Jefferson?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, my wife!” advancing again towards +Shirley.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page370" id="page370" title="370"></a> +<p>The girl shrank back in alarm.</p> + +<p>“No, no, no, Mr. Ryder, I cannot, I cannot!” she +cried.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” demanded Ryder, Sr. appealingly. +“Ah, don't—don't decide hastily—”</p> + +<p>Shirley, her face set and drawn and keen mental distress +showing in every line of it, faced the two men, pale and +determined. The time had come to reveal the truth. This masquerade +could go on no longer. It was not honourable either to her father +or to herself. Her self-respect demanded that she inform the +financier of her true identity.</p> + +<p>“I cannot marry your son with these lies upon my +lips!” she cried. “I cannot go on with this deception. +I told you you did not know who I was, who my people were. My +story about them, my name, everything about me is false, every +word I have uttered is a lie, a fraud, a cheat! I would not tell +you now, but you trusted me and are willing to entrust your son's +future, your family honour in my keeping, and I can't keep back +the truth from you. Mr. Ryder, I am the daughter of the man you +hate. I am the woman your son loves. I am Shirley +Rossmore!”</p> + +<p>Ryder took his cigar from his lips and rose slowly to his +feet.</p> + +<p>“You? You?” he stammered.</p> + +<a name="photo5" id="photo5"></a> +<blockquote class="illustration"><a href="images/photo5.jpg"> +<img src="images/photo5.png" width="449" height="266" +alt="[Photo, from the play, +of Jefferson and Shirley appealing to Mr. Ryder]" /></a></blockquote> +<blockquote class="central">“For God's sake, Mr. Ryder, +don't permit this foul injustice.”—Act III.</blockquote> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page371" id="page371" title="371"></a> +<p>“Yes—yes, I am the Rossmore woman! Listen, Mr. +Ryder. Don't turn away from me. Go to Washington on behalf of my +father, and I promise you I will never see your son +again—never, never!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Shirley!” cried Jefferson, “you don't +love me!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jeff, I do; God knows I do! But if I must break my +own heart to save my father I will do it.”</p> + +<p>“Would you sacrifice my happiness and your +own?”</p> + +<p>“No happiness can be built on lies, Jeff. We must build +on truth or our whole house will crumble and fall. We have +deceived your father, but he will forgive that, won't you?” +she said, appealing to Ryder, “and you will go to +Washington, you will save my father's honour, his life, you +will—?”</p> + +<p>They stood face to face—this slim, delicate girl battling +for her father's life, arrayed against a cold-blooded, heartless, +unscrupulous man, deaf to every impulse of human sympathy or pity. +Since this woman had deceived him, fooled him, he would deal with +her as with everyone else who crossed his will. She laid her hand +on his arm, pleading with him. Brutally, savagely, he thrust her +aside.</p> + +<p>“No, no, I will not!” he thundered. “You have +wormed yourself into my confidence by means of lies +<a class="pagebreak" name="page372" id="page372" title="372"></a> +and deceit. You have tricked me, fooled me to the very limit! Oh, +it is easy to see how you have beguiled my son into the folly of +loving you! And you—you have the brazen effrontery to ask me +to plead for your father? No! No! No! Let the law take its course, +and now Miss Rossmore—you will please leave my house +to-morrow morning!”</p> + +<p>Shirley stood listening to what he had to say, her face white, +her mouth quivering. At last the crisis had come. It was a fight +to the finish between this man, the incarnation of corporate greed +and herself, representing the fundamental principles of right and +justice. She turned on him in a fury:</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will leave your house to-night! Do you think I +would remain another hour beneath the roof of a man who is as +blind to justice, as deaf to mercy, as incapable of human sympathy +as you are!”</p> + +<p>She raised her voice; and as she stood there denouncing the man +of money, her eyes flashing and her head thrown back, she looked +like some avenging angel defying one of the powers of Evil.</p> + +<p>“Leave the room!” shouted Ryder, beside himself, +and pointing to the door.</p> + +<p>“Father!” cried Jefferson, starting forward to +protect the girl he loved.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page373" id="page373" title="373"></a> +<p>“You have tricked him as you have me!” thundered +Ryder.</p> + +<p>“It is your own vanity that has tricked you!” cried +Shirley contemptuously. “You lay traps for yourself and walk +into them. You compel everyone around you to lie to you, to cajole +you, to praise you, to deceive you! At least, you cannot accuse me +of flattering you. I have never fawned upon you as you compel your +family and your friends and your dependents to do. I have always +appealed to your better nature by telling you the truth, and in +your heart you know that I am speaking the truth now.”</p> + +<p>“Go!” he commanded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, let us go, Shirley!” said Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“No, Jeff, I came here alone and I'm going +alone!”</p> + +<p>“You are not. I shall go with you. I intend to make you +my wife!”</p> + +<p>Ryder laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p>“No,” cried Shirley. “Do you think I'd marry +a man whose father is as deep a discredit to the human race as +your father is? No, I wouldn't marry the son of such a merciless +tyrant! He refuses to lift his voice to save my father. I refuse +to marry his son!”</p> + +<p>She turned on Ryder with all the fury of a tiger:</p> + +<p>“You think if you lived in the olden days you'd be a +Cæsar or an Alexander. But you wouldn't! You'd +<a class="pagebreak" name="page374" id="page374" title="374"></a> +be a Nero—a Nero! Sink my self-respect to the extent of +marrying into your family!” she exclaimed contemptuously. +“Never! I am going to Washington without your aid. I am +going to save my father if I have to go on my knees to every +United States Senator. I'll go to the White House; I'll tell the +President what you are! Marry your son—no, thank you! No, +thank you!”</p> + +<p>Exhausted by the vehemence of her passionate outburst, Shirley +hurried from the room, leaving Ryder speechless, staring at his +son.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page375" id="page375" title="375"></a> +<a name="chapter16" id="chapter16"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p>When Shirley reached her rooms she broke down completely, she +threw herself upon a sofa and burst into a fit of violent sobbing. +After all, she was only a woman and the ordeal through which she +had passed would have taxed the strongest powers of endurance. She +had borne up courageously while there remained the faintest chance +that she might succeed in moving the financier to pity, but now +that all hopes in that direction were shattered and she herself +had been ordered harshly from the house like any ordinary +malefactor, the reaction set in, and she gave way freely to her +long pent-up anguish and distress. Nothing now could save her +father—not even this journey to Washington which she +determined to take nevertheless, for, according to what Stott had +said, the Senate was to take a vote that very night.</p> + +<p>She looked at the time—eleven o'clock. She had told Mr. +Ryder that she would leave his house at once, but on reflection it +was impossible for a girl alone to seek a room at that hour. It +would be midnight +<a class="pagebreak" name="page376" id="page376" title="376"></a> +before she could get her things packed. No, she would stay under +this hated roof until morning and then take the first train to +Washington. There was still a chance that the vote might be +delayed, in which case she might yet succeed in winning over some +of the senators. She began to gather her things together and was +thus engaged when she, heard a knock at her door.</p> + +<p>“Who's there?” she called out.</p> + +<p>“It's I,” replied a familiar voice.</p> + +<p>Shirley went to the door and opening it found Jefferson on the +threshold. He made no attempt to enter, nor did she invite him in. +He looked tired and careworn.</p> + +<p>“Of course, you're not going to-night?” he asked +anxiously. “My father did not mean to-night.”</p> + +<p>“No, Jeff,” she said wearily; “not to-night. +It's a little too late. I did not realize it. To-morrow morning, +early.”</p> + +<p>He seemed reassured and held out his hand:</p> + +<p>“Good-night, dearest—you're a brave girl. You made +a splendid fight.”</p> + +<p>“It didn't do much good,” she replied in a +disheartened, listless way.</p> + +<p>“But it set him thinking,” rejoined Jefferson. +“No one ever spoke to my father like that before. It did +<a class="pagebreak" name="page377" id="page377" title="377"></a> +him good. He's still marching up and down the library, chewing the +cud—”</p> + +<p>Noticing Shirley's tired face and her eyes, with great black +circles underneath, he stopped short.</p> + +<p>“Now don't do any more packing to-night,” he said. +“Go to bed and in the morning I'll come up and help you. +Good night!”</p> + +<p>“Good night, Jeff,” she smiled.</p> + +<p>He went downstairs, and after doing some more packing she went +to bed. But it was hours before she got to sleep, and then she +dreamed that she was in the Senate Chamber and that she saw Ryder +suddenly rise and denounce himself before the astonished senators +as a perjurer and traitor to his country, while she returned to +Massapequa with the glad news that her father was acquitted.</p> + +<p>Meantime, a solitary figure remained in the library, pacing to +and fro like a lost soul in Purgatory. Mrs. Ryder had returned +from the play and gone to bed, serenely oblivious of the drama in +real life that had been enacted at home, the servants locked the +house up for the night and still John Burkett Ryder walked the +floor of his sanctum, and late into the small hours of the morning +the watchman going his lonely rounds, saw a light in the library +and the restless figure of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page378" id="page378" title="378"></a> +his employer sharply silhouetted against the white blinds.</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life John Ryder realized that there +was something in the world beyond Self. He had seen with his own +eyes the sacrifice a daughter will make for the father she loves, +and he asked himself what manner of a man that father could be to +inspire such devotion in his child. He probed into his own heart +and conscience and reviewed his past career. He had been +phenomenally successful, but he had not been happy. He had more +money than he knew what to do with, but the pleasures of the +domestic circle, which he saw other men enjoy, had been denied to +him. Was he himself to blame? Had his insensate craving for gold +and power led him to neglect those other things in life which +contribute more truly to man's happiness? In other words, was his +life a mistake? Yes, it was true what this girl charged, he had +been merciless and unscrupulous in his dealings with his fellow +man. It was true that hardly a dollar of his vast fortune had been +honestly earned. It was true that it had been wrung from the +people by fraud and trickery. He had craved for power, yet now he +had tasted it, what a hollow joy it was, after all! The public +hated and despised him; even his so-called friends and business +associates toadied to +<a class="pagebreak" name="page379" id="page379" title="379"></a> +him merely because they feared him. And this judge—this +father he had persecuted and ruined, what a better man and citizen +he was, how much more worthy of a child's love and of the esteem +of the world! What had Judge Rossmore done, after all, to deserve +the frightful punishment the amalgamated interests had caused him +to suffer? If he had blocked their game, he had done only what his +oath, his duty commanded him to do. Such a girl as Shirley +Rossmore could not have had any other kind of a father. Ah, if he +had had such a daughter he might have been a better man, if only +to win his child's respect and affection. John Ryder pondered +long and deeply and the more he ruminated the stronger the +conviction grew upon him that the girl was right and he was wrong. +Suddenly, he looked at his watch. It was one o'clock. Roberts had +told him that it would be an all night session and that a vote +would probably not be taken until very late. He unhooked the +telephone and calling “central” asked for “long +distance” and connection with Washington.</p> + +<br /> + +<p>It was seven o'clock when the maid entered Shirley's room with +her breakfast and she found its occupant up and dressed.</p> + +<p>“Why you haven't been to bed, Miss!” exclaimed +<a class="pagebreak" name="page380" id="page380" title="380"></a> +the girl, looking at the bed in the inner room which seemed +scarcely disturbed.</p> + +<p>“No, Theresa I—I couldn't sleep.” Hastily +pouring out a cup of tea she added. “I must catch that nine +o'clock train to Washington. I didn't finish packing until nearly +three.”</p> + +<p>“Can I do anything for you, Miss?” inquired the +maid. Shirley was as popular with the servants as with the rest of +the household.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Shirley, “there are only a few +things to go in my suit case. Will you please have a cab here in +half an hour?”</p> + +<p>The maid was about to go when she suddenly thought of something +she had forgotten. She held out an envelope which she had left +lying on the tray.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Miss, Mr. Jorkins said to give you this and master +wanted to see you as soon as you had finished your +breakfast.”</p> + +<p>Shirley tore open the envelope and took out the contents. It +was a cheque, payable to her order for $5,000 and signed +“John Burkett Ryder.”</p> + +<p>A deep flush covered the girl's face as she saw the +money—a flush of annoyance rather than of pleasure. This +man who had insulted her, who had wronged her father, who had +driven her from his home, thought he could throw his gold at her +and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page381" id="page381" title="381"></a> +insolently send her her pay as one settles haughtily with a +servant discharged for impertinence. She would have none of his +money—the work she had done she would make him a present of. +She replaced the cheque in the envelope and passed it back to +Theresa.</p> + +<p>“Give this to Mr. Ryder and tell him I cannot see +him.”</p> + +<p>“But Mr. Ryder said—” insisted the girl.</p> + +<p>“Please deliver my message as I give it,” commanded +Shirley with authority. “I cannot see Mr. Ryder.”</p> + +<p>The maid withdrew, but she had barely closed the door when it +was opened again and Mrs. Ryder rushed in, without knocking. She +was all flustered with excitement and in such a hurry that she had +not even stopped to arrange her toilet.</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Green,” she gasped; “what's +this I hear—going away suddenly without giving me +warning?”</p> + +<p>“I wasn't engaged by the month,” replied Shirley +drily.</p> + +<p>“I know, dear, I know. I was thinking of myself. I've +grown so used to you—how shall I get on without you—no +one understands me the way you do. Dear me! The whole house is +upset. Mr. Ryder never went to bed at all last night. Jefferson is +going away, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page382" id="page382" title="382"></a> +too—forever, he threatens. If he hadn't come and woke me up +to say good-bye, I should never have known you intended to leave +us. My boy's going—you're going—everyone's deserting +me!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ryder was not accustomed to such prolonged flights of +oratory and she sank exhausted on a chair, her eyes filling with +tears.</p> + +<p>“Did they tell you who I am—the daughter of Judge +Rossmore?” demanded Shirley.</p> + +<p>It had been a shock to Mrs. Ryder that morning when Jefferson +burst into his mother's room before she was up and acquainted her +with the events of the previous evening. The news that the Miss +Green whom she had grown to love, was really the Miss Rossmore of +whose relations with Jefferson her husband stood in such dread, +was far from affecting the financier's wife as it had Ryder +himself. To the mother's simple and ingenuous mind, free from +prejudice and ulterior motive, the girl's character was more +important than her name, and certainly she could not blame her son +for loving such a woman as Shirley. Of course, it was unfortunate +for Jefferson that his father felt this bitterness towards Judge +Rossmore, for she herself could hardly have wished for a more +sympathetic daughter-in-law. She had not seen her husband since +the previous evening at dinner so was +<a class="pagebreak" name="page383" id="page383" title="383"></a> +in complete ignorance as to what he thought of this new +development, but the mother sighed as she thought how happy it +would make her to see Jefferson happily married to the girl of his +own choice, and in her heart she still entertained the hope that +her husband would see it that way and thus prevent their son from +leaving them as he threatened.</p> + +<p>“That's not your fault, my dear,” she replied +answering Shirley's question. “You are yourself—that's +the main thing. You mustn't mind what Mr. Ryder says? Business +and worry makes him irritable at times. If you must go, of course +you must—you are the best judge of that, but Jefferson wants +to see you before you leave.” She kissed Shirley in motherly +fashion, and added: “He has told me everything, dear. +Nothing would make me happier than to see you become his wife. +He's downstairs now waiting for me to tell him to come +up.”</p> + +<p>“It's better that I should not see him,” replied +Shirley slowly and gravely. “I can only tell him what I have +already told him. My father comes first. I have still a duty to +perform.”</p> + +<p>“That's right, dear,” answered Mrs. Ryder. +“You're a good, noble girl and I admire you all the more for +it. I'll let Jefferson be his own advocate. You'll see him for my +sake!”</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page384" id="page384" title="384"></a> +<p>She gave Shirley another affectionate embrace and left the room +while the girl proceeded with her final preparations for +departure. Presently there was a quick, heavy step in the corridor +outside and Jefferson appeared in the doorway. He stood there +waiting for her to invite him in. She looked up and greeted him +cordially, yet it was hardly the kind of reception he looked for +or that he considered he had a right to expect. He advanced +sulkily into the room.</p> + +<p>“Mother said she had put everything right,” he +began. “I guess she was mistaken.”</p> + +<a name="insquote5" id="insquote5"></a> +<p>“Your mother does not understand, neither do you,” +she replied seriously. “Nothing can be put right until my +father is restored to honour and position.”</p> + +<p>“But why should you punish me because my father fails to +regard the matter as we do?” demanded Jefferson +rebelliously.</p> + +<p>“Why should I punish myself—why should we punish +those nearest and dearest?” answered Shirley gently, +“the victims of human injustice always suffer where their +loved ones are tortured. Why are things as they are—I don't +know. I know they are—that's all.”</p> + +<p>The young man strode nervously up and down the room while she +gazed listlessly out of the window, looking for the cab that was +to carry her away from +<a class="pagebreak" name="page385" id="page385" title="385"></a> +this house of disappointment. He pleaded with her:</p> + +<p>“I have tried honourably and failed—you have tried +honourably and failed. +<a name="insquote9" id="insquote9"></a> +Isn't the sting of impotent failure enough to meet without +striving against a hopeless love?” He approached her and +said softly: “I love you Shirley—don't drive me to +desperation. Must I be punished because you have failed? It's +unfair. The sins of the fathers should not be visited upon the +children.”</p> + +<p>“But they are—it's the law,” said Shirley +with resignation.</p> + +<p>“The law?” he echoed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the law,” insisted the girl; “man's +law, not God's, the same unjust law that punishes my +father—man's law which is put into the hands of the powerful +of the earth to strike at the weak.”</p> + +<p>She sank into a chair and, covering up her face, wept bitterly. +Between her sobs she cried brokenly:</p> + +<p>“I believed in the power of love to soften your father's +heart, I believed that with God's help I could bring him to see +the truth. I believed that Truth and Love would make him see the +light, but it hasn't. I stayed on and on, hoping against hope +until the time has gone by and it's too late to save him, too +late! What can I do now? My going to Washington is a forlorn hope, +a last, miserable, forlorn hope and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page386" id="page386" title="386"></a> +in this hour, the darkest of all, you ask me to think of +myself—my love, your love, your happiness, your future, my +future! Ah, wouldn't it be sublime selfishness?”</p> + +<p>Jefferson kneeled down beside the chair and taking her hand in +his, tried to reason with her and comfort her:</p> + +<p>“Listen, Shirley,” he said, “do not do +something you will surely regret. You are punishing me not only +because I have failed but because you have failed too. It seems to +me that if you believed it possible to accomplish so much, if you +had so much faith—that you have lost your faith rather +quickly. I believed in nothing, I had no faith and yet I have not +lost hope.”</p> + +<p>She shook her head and gently withdrew her hand.</p> + +<p>“It is useless to insist, Jefferson—until my father +is cleared of this stain our lives—yours and mine—must +lie apart.”</p> + +<p>Someone coughed and, startled, they both looked up. Mr. Ryder +had entered the room unobserved and stood watching them. Shirley +immediately rose to her feet indignant, resenting this intrusion +on her privacy after she had declined to receive the financier. +Yet, she reflected quickly, how could she prevent it? He was at +home, free to come and go as he pleased, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page387" id="page387" title="387"></a> +but she was not compelled to remain in the same room with him. She +picked up the few things that lay about and with a contemptuous +toss of her head, retreated into the inner apartment, leaving +father and son alone together.</p> + +<p>“Hum,” grunted Ryder, Sr. “I rather thought I +should find you here, but I didn't quite expect to find you on +your knees—dragging our pride in the mud.”</p> + +<p>“That's where our pride ought to be,” retorted +Jefferson savagely. He felt in the humor to say anything, no +matter what the consequences.</p> + +<p>“So she has refused you again, eh?” said Ryder, Sr. +with a grin.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” rejoined Jefferson with growing irritation, +“she objects to my family. I don't blame her.”</p> + +<p>The financier smiled grimly as he answered:</p> + +<p>“Your family in general—me in particular, eh? I +gleaned that much when I came in.” He looked towards the +door of the room in which Shirley had taken refuge and as if +talking to himself he added: “A curious girl with an +inverted point of view—sees everything different to +others—I want to see her before she goes.”</p> + +<p>He walked over to the door and raised his hand as if he were +about to knock. Then he stopped as if +<a class="pagebreak" name="page388" id="page388" title="388"></a> +he had changed his mind and turning towards his son he +demanded:</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that she has done with +you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Jefferson bitterly.</p> + +<p>“Finally?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, finally—forever!”</p> + +<p>“Does she mean it?” asked Ryder, Sr., +sceptically.</p> + +<p>“Yes—she will not listen to me while her father is +still in peril.”</p> + +<p>There was an expression of half amusement, half admiration on +the financier's face as he again turned towards the door.</p> + +<p>“It's like her, damn it, just like her!” he +muttered.</p> + +<p>He knocked boldly at the door.</p> + +<p>“Who's there?” cried Shirley from within.</p> + +<p>“It is I—Mr. Ryder. I wish to speak to +you.”</p> + +<p>“I must beg you to excuse me,” came the answer, +“I cannot see you.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson interfered.</p> + +<p>“Why do you want to add to the girl's misery? Don't you +think she has suffered enough?”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what she has done?” said Ryder with +pretended indignation. “She has insulted me grossly. I never +was so humiliated in my life. She has returned the cheque I sent +her last night in payment for her work on my biography. I mean to +<a class="pagebreak" name="page389" id="page389" title="389"></a> +make her take that money. It's hers, she needs it, her father's a +beggar. She must take it back. It's only flaunting her contempt +for me in my face and I won't permit it.”</p> + +<a name="photo6" id="photo6"></a> +<blockquote class="illustration"><a href="images/photo6.jpg"> +<img src="images/photo6.png" width="266" height="450" +alt="[Photo, from the play, +of Mr. Ryder holding out a cheque to Shirley.]" /></a></blockquote> +<blockquote class="central">“So I contaminate even good +money?”—Act IV.</blockquote> + +<p>“I don't think her object in refusing that money was to +flaunt contempt in your face, or in any way humiliate you,” +answered Jefferson. “She feels she has been sailing under +false colours and desires to make some reparation.”</p> + +<p>“And so she sends me back my money, feeling that will +pacify me, perhaps repair the injury she has done me, perhaps buy +me into entering into her plan of helping her father, but it +won't. It only increases my determination to see her and +her—” Suddenly changing the topic he asked: +“When do you leave us?”</p> + +<a name="movquote3" id="movquote3"></a> +<p>“Now—at once—that is—I—don't +know,” answered Jefferson embarrassed. “The fact is my +faculties are numbed—I seem to have lost my power of +thinking. Father,” he exclaimed, “you see what a wreck +you have made of our lives!”</p> + +<p>“Now, don't moralize,” replied his father testily, +“as if your own selfishness in desiring to possess that girl +wasn't the mainspring of all your actions!” Waving his son +out of the room he added: “Now leave +<a class="pagebreak" name="page390" id="page390" title="390"></a> +me alone with her for a few moments. Perhaps I can make her listen +to reason.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson stared at his father as if he feared he were out of +his mind.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? Are you—?” he +ejaculated.</p> + +<p>“Go—go leave her to me,” commanded the +financier. “Slam the door when you go out and she'll think +we've both gone. Then come up again presently.”</p> + +<p>The stratagem succeeded admirably. Jefferson gave the door a +vigorous pull and John Ryder stood quiet, waiting for the girl to +emerge from sanctuary. He did not have to wait long. The door +soon opened and Shirley came out slowly. She had her hat on and +was drawing on her gloves, for through her window she had caught a +glimpse of the cab standing at the curb. She started on seeing +Ryder standing there motionless, and she would have retreated had +he not intercepted her.</p> + +<p>“I wish to speak to you Miss—Rossmore,” he +began.</p> + +<p>“I have nothing to say,” answered Shirley +frigidly.</p> + +<p>“Why did you do this?” he asked, holding out the +cheque.</p> + +<p>“Because I do not want your money,” she replied +with hauteur.</p> + +<p>“It was yours—you earned it,” he said.</p> + +<a class="pagebreak" name="page391" id="page391" title="391"></a> +<p>“No, I came here hoping to influence you to help my +father. The work I did was part of the plan. It happened to fall +my way. I took it as a means to get to your heart.”</p> + +<p>“But it is yours, please take it. It will be +useful.”</p> + +<p>“No,” she said scornfully, “I can't tell you +how low I should fall in my own estimation if I took your money! +Money,” she added, with ringing contempt, “why, that's +all there is to <i>you!</i> It's your god! Shall I make your god +my god? No, thank you, Mr. Ryder!”</p> + +<p>“Am I as bad as that?” he asked wistfully.</p> + +<p>“You are as bad as that!” she answered +decisively.</p> + +<p>“So bad that I contaminate even good money?” He +spoke lightly but she noticed that he winced.</p> + +<p>“Money itself is nothing,” replied the girl, +“it's the spirit that gives it—the spirit that +receives it, the spirit that earns it, the spirit that spends it. +Money helps to create happiness. It also creates misery. It's an +engine of destruction when not properly used, it destroys +individuals as it does nations. It has destroyed you, for it has +warped your soul!”</p> + +<p>“Go on,” he laughed bitterly, “I like to hear +you!”</p> + +<p>“No, you don't, Mr. Ryder, no you don't, for deep down in +your heart you know that I am speaking the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page392" id="page392" title="392"></a> +truth. Money and the power it gives you, has dried up the +well-springs of your heart.”</p> + +<p>He affected to be highly amused at her words, but behind the +mask of callous indifference the man suffered. Her words seared +him as with a red hot iron. She went on:</p> + +<p>“In the barbaric ages they fought for possession, but +they fought openly. The feudal barons fought for what they stole, +but it was a fair fight. They didn't strike in the dark. At least, +they gave a man a chance for his life. But when you modern barons +of industry don't like legislation you destroy it, when you don't +like your judges you remove them, when a competitor outbids you +you squeeze him out of commercial existence! You have no hearts, +you are machines, and you are cowards, for you fight +unfairly.”</p> + +<p>“It is not true, it is not true,” he protested.</p> + +<p>“It is true,” she insisted hotly, “a few +hours ago in cold blood you doomed my father to what is certain +death because you decided it was a political necessity. In other +words he interfered with your personal interests—your +financial interests—you, with so many millions you can't +count them!” Scornfully she added: “Come out into the +light—fight in the open! At least, let him know who his +enemy is!”</p> + +<p>“Stop—stop—not another word,” he cried +impatiently, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page393" id="page393" title="393"></a> +“you have diagnosed the disease. What of the remedy? Are you +prepared to reconstruct human nature?”</p> + +<p>Confronting each other, their eyes met and he regarded her +without resentment, almost with tenderness. He felt strangely +drawn towards this woman who had defied and accused him, and made +him see the world in a new light.</p> + +<p>“I don't deny,” he admitted reluctantly, +“that things seem to be as you describe them, but it is part +of the process of evolution.”</p> + +<p>“No,” she protested, “it is the work of +God!”</p> + +<p>“It is evolution!” he insisted.</p> + +<p>“Ah, that's it,” she retorted, “you evolve +new ideas, new schemes, new tricks—you all worship different +gods—gods of your own making!”</p> + +<p>He was about to reply when there was a commotion at the door +and Theresa entered, followed by a man servant to carry down the +trunk.</p> + +<p>“The cab is downstairs, Miss,” said the maid.</p> + +<p>Ryder waved them away imperiously. He had something further to +say which he did not care for servants to hear. Theresa and the +man precipitately withdrew, not understanding, but obeying with +alacrity a master who never brooked delay in the execution +<a class="pagebreak" name="page394" id="page394" title="394"></a> +of his orders. Shirley, indignant, looked to him for an +explanation.</p> + +<p>“You don't need them,” he exclaimed with a quiet +smile in which was a shade of embarrassment. “I—I came +here to tell you that I—” He stopped as if unable to +find words, while Shirley gazed at him in utter astonishment. +“Ah,” he went on finally, “you have made it very +hard for me to speak.” Again he paused and then with an +effort he said slowly: “An hour ago I had Senator Roberts on +the long distance telephone, and I'm going to Washington. It's all +right about your father. The matter will be dropped. You've +beaten me. I acknowledge it. You're the first living soul who ever +has beaten John Burkett Ryder.”</p> + +<p>Shirley started forward with a cry of mingled joy and surprise. +Could she believe her ears? Was it possible that the dreaded +Colossus had capitulated and that she had saved her father? Had +the forces of right and justice prevailed, after all? Her face +transfigured, radiant she exclaimed breathlessly:</p> + +<p>“What, Mr. Ryder, you mean that you are going to help my +father?”</p> + +<p>“Not for his sake—for yours,” he answered +frankly.</p> + +<p>Shirley hung her head. In her moment of triumph, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page395" id="page395" title="395"></a> +she was sorry for all the hard things she had said to this man. +She held out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me,” she said gently, “it was for my +father. I had no faith. I thought your heart was of +stone.”</p> + +<p>Impulsively Ryder drew her to him, he clasped her two hands in +his and looking down at her kindly he said, awkwardly:</p> + +<p>“So it was—so it was! You accomplished the miracle. +It's the first time I've acted on pure sentiment. Let me tell you +something. Good sentiment is bad business and good business is bad +sentiment—that's why a rich man is generally supposed to +have such a hard time getting into the Kingdom of Heaven.” +He laughed and went on, “I've given ten millions apiece to +three universities. Do you think I'm fool enough to suppose I can +buy my way? But that's another matter. I'm going to Washington on +behalf of your father because I—want you to marry my son. +Yes, I want you in the family, close to us. I want your respect, +my girl. I want your love. I want to earn it. I know I can't buy +it. There's a weak spot in every man's armour and this is +mine—I always want what I can't get and I can't get your +love unless I earn it.”</p> + +<p>Shirley remained pensive. Her thoughts were out +<a class="pagebreak" name="page396" id="page396" title="396"></a> +on Long Island, at Massapequa. She was thinking of their joy when +they heard the news—her father, her mother and Stott. She +was thinking of the future, bright and glorious with promise +again, now that the dark clouds were passing away. She thought of +Jefferson and a soft light came into her eyes as she foresaw a +happy wifehood shared with him.</p> + +<p>“Why so sober,” demanded Ryder, “you've +gained your point, your father is to be restored to you, you'll +marry the man you love?”</p> + +<p>“I'm so happy!” murmured Shirley. “I don't +deserve it. I had no faith.”</p> + +<p>Ryder released her and took out his watch.</p> + +<p>“I leave in fifteen minutes for Washington,” he +said. “Will you trust me to go alone?”</p> + +<p>“I trust you gladly,” she answered smiling at him. +“I shall always be grateful to you for letting me convert +you.”</p> + +<p>“You won me over last night,” he rejoined, +“when you put up that fight for your father. I made up my +mind that a girl so loyal to her father would be loyal to her +husband. You think,” he went on, “that I do not love +my son—you are mistaken. I do love him and I want him to be +happy. I am capable of more affection than people think. It is +Wall Street,” he +<a class="pagebreak" name="page397" id="page397" title="397"></a> +added bitterly, “that has crushed all sentiment out of +me.”</p> + +<p>Shirley laughed nervously, almost hysterically.</p> + +<p>“I want to laugh and I feel like crying,” she +cried. “What will Jefferson say—how happy he will +be!”</p> + +<p>“How are you going to tell him?” inquired Ryder +uneasily.</p> + +<p>“I shall tell him that his dear, good father has relented +and—”</p> + +<p>“No, my dear,” he interrupted, “you will say +nothing of the sort. I draw the line at the dear, good father act. +I don't want him to think that it comes from me at all.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Shirley puzzled, “I shall have to +tell him that you—”</p> + +<p>“What?” exclaimed Ryder, “acknowledge to my +son that I was in the wrong, that I've seen the error of my ways +and wish to repent? Excuse me,” he added grimly, “it's +got to come from him. He must see the error of <i>his</i> +ways.”</p> + +<p>“But the error of his way,” laughed the girl, +“was falling in love with me. I can never prove to him that +that was wrong!”</p> + +<p>The financier refused to be convinced. He shook his head and +said stubbornly:</p> + +<p>“Well, he must be put in the wrong somehow or +<a class="pagebreak" name="page398" id="page398" title="398"></a> +other! Why, my dear child,” he went on, “that boy has +been waiting all his life for an opportunity to say to me: +‘Father, I knew I was in the right, and I knew you were +wrong,’ Can't you see,” he asked, “what a false +position it places me in? Just picture his triumph!”</p> + +<p>“He'll be too happy to triumph,” objected +Shirley.</p> + +<p>Feeling a little ashamed of his attitude, he said:</p> + +<p>“I suppose you think I'm very obstinate.” Then, as +she made no reply, he added: “I wish I didn't care what you +thought.”</p> + +<p>Shirley looked at him gravely for a moment and then she replied +seriously:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ryder, you're a great man—you're a +genius—your life is full of action, energy, achievement. But +it appears to be only the good, the noble and the true that you +are ashamed of. When your money triumphs over principle, when your +political power defeats the ends of justice, you glory in your +victory. But when you do a kindly, generous, fatherly act, when +you win a grand and noble victory over yourself, you are ashamed +of it. It was a kind, generous impulse that has prompted you to +save my father and take your son and myself to your heart. Why +are you ashamed to let him see it? Are you afraid he will love +you? Are you afraid I shall +<a class="pagebreak" name="page399" id="page399" title="399"></a> +love you? Open your heart wide to us—let us love +you.”</p> + +<p>Ryder, completely vanquished, opened his arms and Shirley +sprang forward and embraced him as she would have embraced her own +father. A solitary tear coursed down the financier's cheek. In +thirty years he had not felt, or been touched by, the emotion of +human affection.</p> + +<p>The door suddenly opened and Jefferson entered. He started on +seeing Shirley in his father's arms.</p> + +<p>“Jeff, my boy,” said the financier, releasing +Shirley and putting her hand in his son's, “I've done +something you couldn't do—I've convinced Miss Green—I +mean Miss Rossmore—that we are not so bad after +all!”</p> + +<p>Jefferson, beaming, grasped his father's hand.</p> + +<p>“Father!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“That's what I say—father!” echoed +Shirley.</p> + +<p>They both embraced the financier until, overcome with emotion, +Ryder, Sr., struggled to free himself and made his escape from the +room crying:</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, children—I'm off for +Washington!”</p> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + +<hr width="100%" /> + +<h2>Transcriber's Notes:</h2> + +<p>There were a number of faded/missing letters and some +transposition errors in the edition this eBook was taken from. The +following corrections were made:</p> + +<table> +<tr><td>Chapter headers standardised:</td><td> + <a href="#chapter5">V</a>, + <a href="#chapter6">VI</a>, and + <a href="#chapter7">VII</a> previously had a trailing full-stop.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Opening quotes inserted:</td><td> + <a href="#insquote1"> + <ins>“</ins>Yes, and it was worth it to him...</a><br /> + <a href="#insquote2"> + <ins>“</ins>Tell me, what do the papers say?”</a><br /> + <a href="#insquote3"> + <ins>“</ins>The dying father, the sorrowing mother...</a><br /> + <a href="#insquote4"> + ...a meddlesome man,” insisted Ryder <ins>“</ins>and...</a><br /> + <a href="#insquote5"> ...she replied seriously. + <ins>“</ins>Nothing can be...</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Closing quotes inserted:</td><td> + <a href="#insquote6"> + ...What account will you be able to give?<ins>”</ins></a><br /> + <a href="#insquote7"> + “How?<ins>”</ins> asked Shirley calmly.</a><br /> + <a href="#insquote8"> + “Upon my word—<ins>”</ins> he said.</a><br /> + <a href="#insquote9"> + ...a hopeless love?<ins>”</ins> He approached her...</a><br /> + Single quote doubled in <a href="#insquote10"> + ...hatred of the hero of your book.<ins>”</ins></a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Quotes moved or reversed:</td><td> + <a href="#movquote1">“You sent him a copy of + ‘The American Octopus<ins>’</ins>?”</a><br /> + <a href="#movquote2"> + ...said Shirley decisively. <ins>“</ins>What is more...</a><br /> + <a href="#movquote3"> + ...answered Jefferson embarrassed. <ins>“</ins>The fact...</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Other Typographical Errors:</td><td> + “determinatioin” in + <a href="#typo1">...arriving at this determination.</a><br /> + “Athenée” in + <a href="#typo2">...proceeded to the Hotel de l'Athénée...</a><br /> + “I'ts” in + <a href="#typo3">...life to my father. It's no use...</a><br /> + “Rosmore” in + <a href="#typo4">...Judge Rossmore—that is by saving him...</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lion and The Mouse, by Charles Klein + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION AND THE MOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 14204-h.htm or 14204-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/0/14204/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Daniel Emerson Griffith and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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