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+ float: left; + margin-right: 1em } + +.align-right { clear: right; + float: right; + margin-left: 1em } + +.align-center { margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto } + +div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } + +/* SECTIONS */ + +body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } + +/* compact list items containing just one p */ +li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } + +.first { margin-top: 0 !important; + text-indent: 0 !important } +.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } + +span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } +img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } +span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } + +.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } + +/* PAGINATION */ + +.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } +.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } +.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } +.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } +.toc-pageref { float: right } + +@media screen { + .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage + { margin: 10% 0; } + + div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage + { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } + + .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } +} + +@media print { + div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } + div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } + + .vfill { margin-top: 20% } + h2.title { margin-top: 20% } +} + +/* DIV */ +pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } +</style> +<title>THE SIXTY-FIRST SECOND</title> +<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Sixty-First Second" /> +<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> +<meta name="DC.Created" content="1913" /> +<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Owen Johnson" /> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> +<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Sixty-first Second" /> +<meta name="PG.Reposted" content="2016-05-06 text corrections applied" /> +<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> +<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-03-12" /> +<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> +<meta name="PG.Id" content="37113" /> +<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="A. B. Wenzell" /> + +<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> +<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> +<meta name="DCTERMS.title" content="The Sixty-First Second" /> +<meta name="DCTERMS.source" content="/home/ajhaines/sixty/sixty.rst" /> +<meta name="DCTERMS.language" content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" /> +<meta name="DCTERMS.modified" content="2016-05-06T16:11:24.744270+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> +<meta name="DCTERMS.publisher" content="Project Gutenberg" /> +<meta name="DCTERMS.rights" content="Public Domain in the USA." /> +<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37113" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> +<meta name="DCTERMS.creator" content="Owen Johnson" /> +<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="A. B. Wenzell" /> +<meta name="DCTERMS.created" content="2015-03-12" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width" /> +<meta name="generator" content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" /> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 37113 ***</div> +<div class="document" id="the-sixty-first-second"> +<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE SIXTY-FIRST SECOND</span></h1> + +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> +</div> +<div class="container frontispiece"> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 100%" id="figure-61"> +<span id="i-shall-have-the-detectives-herea-man-and-a-womanwithin-half-an-hour-there-s-nothing-to-do-but-wait"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'I shall have the detectives here—a man and a woman—within half an hour. There is nothing to do but wait'"—Page 61" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> +<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> +<span class="italics">"'I shall have the detectives here—a man and a woman—within half an hour. There is nothing to do but wait'"—Page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id1">61</a></div> +</div> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +</div> +<div class="container titlepage"> +<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">THE +<br />SIXTY-FIRST +<br />SECOND</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> +<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">OWEN JOHNSON</span></p> +<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "STOVER AT YALE," ETC.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">ILLUSTRATED BY A. B. WENZELL</em></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">NEW YORK +<br />FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY +<br />PUBLISHERS</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +</div> +<div class="container verso"> +<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">Copyright, 1912, 1913, by</em><span class="small"> +<br />THE MCCLURE PUBLICATIONS, INC.</span></p> +<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Copyright, 1913, by</em><span class="small"> +<br />FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY</span></p> +<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign +<br />languages, including the Scandinavian</em></p> +<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">March, 1913</em></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ILLUSTRATIONS</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-shall-have-the-detectives-herea-man-and-a-womanwithin-half-an-hour-there-s-nothing-to-do-but-wait">"'I shall have the detectives here—a man and a +woman—within half an hour. There's +nothing to do but wait'"</a><span> . . . . . . </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-that-gay-party-one-person-was-a-thiefbut-which-one-a-match-sputtered-there-was-a-cry-of-amazement-and-horror-the-table-was-absolutely-bare">"In that gay party one person was a thief—but +which one? ... A match sputtered. There was +a cry of amazement and horror. The table +was absolutely bare"</a></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#look-here-rita-can-t-i-help-out-some-way">"'Look here, Rita. Can't I help out some way?'"</a></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#come-outsidein-the-garden-i-want-to-speak-to-you-come-quietly">"'Come outside—in the garden. I want to speak +to you. Come quietly'"</a></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-have-not-hesitated-to-trust-in-youyou-must-in-me">"'I have not hesitated to trust in you—you must in me'"</a></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#aha-i-made-them-sit-up-didn-t-iyour-cold-women">"'Aha! I made them sit up, didn't I—your cold +women!'"</a></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-i"><span class="bold x-large">The Sixty-First Second</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>In the year 19—, toward the end of the month of +October, the country was on the eve of a stupendous +panic. A period of swollen prosperity had just +ended in which Titans had striven in a frenzy for the +millions that opportunity had spilled before them.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>For months the stock market had steadily lowered, +owing to the flight of the small investor, affrighted +by the succession of investigations, the fear of +readjustments, and the distrust of the great manipulators. +The public, which understands nothing of the secret +wars and hidden alliances of finance, had begun +tremulously to be aware of the threatening approach of a +stupendous catastrophe. So in the ominous, +grumbling days of October, when the air was full of +confusing rumors and violent alarms, the public, with +its necessity for humanizing all sensations, perceived +distinctly only two figures, each dramatically in peril, +about whose safety or ruin the whole comprehensible +drama of the financial cataclysm seemed to center.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>These two figures, both presidents of great trust +companies, giants in their own sphere, represented +two opposite elements of that great mass of society +which seeks its level in Wall Street. Bernard L. Majendie, +president of the Atlantic Trust Company, +member of every exclusive club, patron of the arts, +representative of one of the oldest American families, +accustomed to leadership and wealth from colonial +times, was linked in a common danger with John +G. Slade, president of the Associated Trust Company, +promoter, manipulator, owner of a chain of Western +newspapers, a man who had hauled himself out of +the lowest depths of society. Many believed that +both, in the relentless readjustment which the banks +were forcing on the trust companies, were destined +to be blotted out in the general catastrophe. Many +others, perceiving the strange oppositeness of the two +individuals, speculated on which would survive the +other, if indeed either were to persist.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>About three o'clock of a certain afternoon, when +each extra brought a new alarm, John G. Slade came +abruptly from the great library, down the sounding +marble descent that was a replica of the famous rampe +of the Château of Gerny, into the tapestry-hung +vestibule of his palace on upper Fifth Avenue.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He stood a moment in blank meditation, while the +third man held his overcoat open and ready, watching +anxiously the frown on the face of the master, +who stood before him, a massive six-foot-four. +Already in the great marble home itself was that feeling +of alarm from the outer world which had communicated +itself to the servants. Suddenly Slade, +returning to himself, detected the furtive scrutiny of +the footman and the butler, who had so far departed +from their correctly petrified attitudes as to exchange +wondering glances. He frowned, pointed to his +loose black felt hat and his favorite cane, and tore +so rapidly through the heavily ironed doors and down +the steps to the waiting automobile that the second +footman stumbled twice in his haste to be before him. +Two or three reporters, who had been lurking behind +the great marble bastions, sprang forward as Slade, +disappearing in the motor, was whirled away.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Up river," he said briefly, and sank back in his +seat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was in the middle forties, a man noticeable +anywhere for the overmastering vitality of his +carriage and the defiant poise of his head. Nature had +admirably designed him for what he was intended to +be—a being always at war with men and surrounding +circumstances. His face was devoid of any fine +indications of sensibility, of reflection, or humorous +perception of life. The upper and lower maxillary +bones were in such gaunt relief they seemed rather +steel girders hung to support a granite will. The +head was square, sunk rather than placed upon his +shoulders, and the line of the head at the back was +straight and full of crude power. He had, at the +same time, a suggestion in the shoulders of the +obstinacy of the buffalo, the most distinctive of +American beasts, and in the eye-pits of the fatalism of the +Indian, which as a type often seems not so much the +physical tenacity of an unexplained race as it does +the peculiar impress of a continent and an atmosphere +surcharged with vitality.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The eyes were a clear blue, the eyes of a boy in +mischief who is still sublimely defiant of the tripping +obstacles of an ethical code. This quality of the +boy, characteristic too of the American, was the +secret of all his seeming inconstancy of unrelenting +cruelty and sudden sentimental impulsiveness. Life +was to him a huge dare, and all the perils of finance +the hazards of a monstrous gamble, which alone +were able to supply him with that overwhelming +quality of sensation that such men covet in life.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A waif at six; a wharf rat at twelve, endowed +with the strength of a man; leader of a gang at +sixteen, hated, feared, always fighting; gaining his first +start in politics, and then, by making a lucky strike +in the silver mines of Colorado, educating himself +with primitive necessary knowledge, always acquiring, +never relaxing what his fingers touched, a terrible +antagonist, risking his all a dozen times in the +hunger for a greater stake—he had emerged at last +from the churning vortex of a brutal struggle, +possessor of a fortune that fifty times had hung on the +events of a day. For five years he had been involved +in countless lawsuits, accused of chicanery, extortion, +conspiracy, and even murder. At the end of which +period he came forth victorious, without losing a +single suit, surrounded, it is true, by every calumny that +could be invented, accused of manipulating legislatures, +corrupting judges, and removing witnesses.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Through it all he had remained unshattered, boyishly +delighted, his body unyielding to the strain of +sleepless nights and months of unrelenting vigilance. +He had lived hard, ready to gamble for a thousand +or a hundred thousand, cynically announcing his +motto:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No friends. So long as every man is my enemy, +I am safe."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And this theory of life he had carried out to the +minutest detail. Men represented to him simply the +male of the species, to be met head on, to strive with +and overthrow. So completely did this obsess him +that no one, not even his secretaries (whom he +changed constantly), had the slightest inkling of his +plans. Two of his subordinates, hoping to profit by +their intimacy, had foolishly invested on his +deliberately given tips—and had been ruined. +Afterward he cited their cases as a warning to other +applicants.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>From the start, always counting on the year ahead, +he had outrun his income. When he had ten +thousand, he was spending fifteen; at fifty thousand, +seventy-five. Every one who came in contact with him +was paid twice over, and robbed him in the bargain—a +fact on which he counted and to which he was +quite indifferent.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Coming to Wall Street in that period of fevered +speculation, he had been among the first to perceive +the enormous instruments at hand in the development +of a chain of trust companies which would supply a +conveniently masked agency for the enormous capital +that he needed to compete on equal terms with the +leaders of the Street.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>That now, for the first time, he was confronted +with a situation of absolute and impending ruin, +brought him not the slightest depression, but rather +that exhilaration and sudden clearness of mind which +is characteristic of the gambler face to face with the +supreme hour which means absolute bankruptcy or a +fortune.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At every block some one on the crowded sidewalk, +or a group in a passing carriage, turned with a hasty +exclamation at the sight of his bulky figure under the +black sombrero, fleeing in the red automobile that +was itself at this period a rarity. At one point where +a blockade compelled him to halt, a newsboy, jumping +on the sideboard, thrust a newspaper in his face. +He flung a dime and glanced at the headlines:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">MARKET STILL GOING DOWN</span></p> +<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">RUMORED SUSPENSIONS</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Then he tossed it aside and returned to his own +calculations. All at once he roused himself and +addressed the chauffeur:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Harkness, Mrs. Braddon's. Take the park."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But as the automobile, turning from the river, +descended by way of green woods, he began restlessly +to repent of his choice. His hatred of men had +made him strangely dependent on women. It was +not that they were able to establish any empire over +his senses, but that they supplied a curious outlet to +his vanity. At times, especially as in the present, +when he felt the necessity of assembling every +resource to meet a crisis, it became absolutely necessary +for him to find, in the tribute he exacted from them, +that self-confidence which he needed to override other +obstacles. Often he would take in his automobile +three or four women of that class which is half +professional, half of the world, and, running slowly +through the pleasant country, recount stories of his +early struggles, of how he had railroaded an enemy +to prison, or caught an adversary in a turn of the +market and broken him. And when these tales of +unrelenting enmity made his audience shudder, he +keenly perceived it, and enjoyed almost a physical +delight.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But this afternoon, as the car came to a stop before +one of the great apartment-houses that front the +park, he remained seated, unsatisfied and defrauded. +It was not a woman of the superficial wit of +Mrs. Braddon who could occupy and stimulate his mind in +this crisis.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Drive on," he said sharply. "Turn the corner +and stop at the hotel."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>There he descended, and entering went to the telephone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair?" he said eagerly, a moment later.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is it, please?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"This is Slade—John Slade. I'm coming over."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't see you now," said a voice with a curious +musical quality of self-possession. "I told you five +o'clock."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What difference does half an hour make?" he +said impatiently.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have other company. You will have to be +patient. At five."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The connection was shut off. He rose angrily, +unaccustomed to any check to his immediate impulses. +At the steps a boy came skipping down for the toll +he had forgotten. He paid the exact amount, +contrary to his custom, and drove his body back into the +cushioned seat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where to, sir?" said Harkness, turning.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Anywhere," he answered gruffly, and, thwarted +in his desire, he said to himself furiously: "That +woman always opposes me! I must teach her a +lesson. I won't go at all."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But at the end of a moment he pulled out his +watch impatiently and calculated the time.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Home," he said suddenly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the house, he ran rapidly through the opening +doors and up the stairs to his bedroom, where he +unlocked a little safe fixed in the wall behind a tapestry +that hid it, and took out a tray of rings. Sorting +them quickly, with a low, cynical chuckle, he selected +a magnificent ruby, slipped it into his pocket, closed +the safe, and passed out of the house with the same +rapidity with which he had entered.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair's, Harkness," he said. "Drive so +as to get me there at five-fifteen."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now we shall see," he said to himself, with a +smile, gazing at the ring in the palm of his hand with +a man's contemptuous contemplation of the stone +which could hold such fascination over a woman's +soul. For him it was absolutely necessary, as a first +step toward his conquest of all his enemies, to feel +his power over this one present resistance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The idea that had come into his head restored his +good humor and aroused in him a certain joy of +energy. He had forgot momentarily his errand, +absorbed in his own battle for existence.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Today is Thursday," he said, with renewed +energy. "Next Wednesday will be the crisis. I must +find out what Majendie is going to do. Snelling's +the man to know—or Garraboy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The car stopped. He sprang out and, without +giving his name, entered the elevator. At the +apartment a Japanese servant took his things and ushered +him into the low-lit greens of the studio, which ran +the height of the two floors that formed the duplex +apartment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Rita Kildair was stretched on a low Récamier +sofa, watching him with amused eyes as he entered +with that atmosphere of strife and fury that seemed +always to play about him. She waited until he had +come to her side before she raised her hand to his, +in a gesture that had no animation, saying:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Something in the tranquil, amused self-possession +of her pose made him stupidly repeat the question. +Then, forgetting his resolve to show no impatience, +he said impetuously:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you keep me waiting?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I did not wish to see your highness then."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not dressed?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I was simply amusing myself with a very +nice boy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled, and, without heed to his question, +motioned him to a chair with a little gesture, not of her +arm, but of her fingers, on which she wore several +rings of unusual luster. She had, as a woman, that +same magnetic self-consciousness that distinguishes +the great actress, aware that every eye is focused on +her and that the slightest change of her hand or shift +of her head has an instantaneous importance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade obeyed her with a sudden sense of warm content.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Smoke?" he said, taking out a cigar. "Permission?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He helped himself to a match, sunk himself in the +great chair, crossed his legs, and looked at her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Rita Kildair gave that complex appearance of a +woman much younger than she seemed, or of a +woman much older. She was at that mental phase +in her life when she exhaled to the fullest that +perfume of mystery which is the most feminine and +irresistible of all the powers that a woman exerts over +the masculine imagination, if indeed it is not the sum +of all seductions. The inexplicable in her own life +and individuality was heightened in every way by the +subservience of outward things, whether by calculation +or by an instinctive sense of interpretation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The great studio, to the neglect of the electric +chandelier, was lit by half a dozen candles, which +flung about conflicting eddies of wavering lights and +shadows. In farther corners were a divan, a piano, +a portrait on an easel, lounges, waiting like so many +shadows to be called forth. A standing lamp, not +too near, bathed the couch on which she lay with a +softened luster. Her tea-gown of liberty silk, with +tones that changed and mingled with each other, was +of the purple of the grape, an effect produced, too, +by the superimposition of one filmy garment on the +other. A slippered foot and ankle came forth from +the fragrant disorder of the skirt, either by studied +arrangement or by the impulse of a woman who is +confident of all her poses. Her nose, quite the most +individual feature, was aquiline, yet not such as is +associated with a masculine character. Rather, it +was vitally sensitive, and gave, in conjunction with +the intent and instantaneous aspect of her grayish +eyes, the instinctive, almost savage appetite for +possession and sensation that is characteristic of her sex. +No one looked at her without asking himself a +question. Those who believed her under thirty +wondered at the experiences that must have crowded in +upon her. Those who believed her nearer forty still +marveled at her mastery over youth. Those of an +analytical mind left her always with a feeling of +speculation framed in two questions—whence had +she come and where would she end?</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>It was this latter speculation more than any other +that absorbed Slade, irresistibly intrigued by the +elusiveness of a fascination which he could not analyze. +She endured his fixed glance without annoyance, +absorbed, too, in the thoughts which his entrance had +brought her. Finally, adapting her manner to his, +she said with his own abruptness:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what do you want to say to me?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm wondering what you are after in this life, +pretty lady?" he said directly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Power."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to be bored."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They smiled by common consent.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And now we know no more than we did before," +he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She stretched out her slender hand against the +purple folds of her gown, and her eyes lingered on +the jewels that she held caressingly before them—a +look that did not escape the man.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By thunder, you're the strangest thing I've run +into," he said, shifting his legs.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"On each of the eight times we have been alone," +she said, smiling, "you have made precisely that same +discovery. Did you forget?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to know something about you," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How old I am—about my husband—what I +am doing here—am I rich—what's my past—and +so on. Consider all these questions asked and +refused—for the ninth time. And now, what—why +did you come here?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He put aside his cigar impatiently, propelled +himself to his feet, and came forward until his knee +touched the couch. She looked up, pleasantly aware +of so much brute strength held in leash above her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And, as he remained standing, she took a little +electric button attached to a coil that was on the +couch, and pressed it. In the hall outside a buzz was +heard, and then the soft, sliding step of Kiki.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tea?" she said, turning to him with an amused +look, the little button pressed against her thin, sharp +row of teeth, that were clear and tiny as a child's.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, of course not," he said furiously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No tea, Kiki," she said, in that same round, +musical tone from which she seldom varied. She held +the button in her long fingers, caressing her cheek +with it, and, looking at him with half-closed eyes, +repeated:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Though the forward movement of Slade had been +unconscious and quite devoid of any personal object, +he was angrily aware that she had availed herself of +his action to introduce a tantalizing defiance which +awakened all the savage in him, as he realized the +helplessness of his crude strength before the raillery +that shone from her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He drew his chair closer to her, sat down on its +edge, one knee forward, his chin in his hand half +concealing his face, looking at her with the shrewd +cruelty of a prosecuting attorney.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's your game?" he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The game itself," she answered, with a little +animation in her eyes and a scarcely perceptible, gradual +turning of her whole body toward him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's your game?" he repeated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him a moment as she might have +looked at a child, and then, imitating the gesture with +which he had sunk his chin in his palm, said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What a convenient formula! And is that the +way you always begin?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know," she continued, "it is extraordinary +how simple you big men—you trust kings—are. +You have the vision of an eagle on one side, +and the groping glance of a baby when you deal +with us. Sometimes I think that it's all instinct, that +all you understand is to throw down what resists +you—that you haven't great minds at all, and that +that is all that interests you in business and in us. +That is why a big man will always end up by meeting +some little woman who will lead him around by +the nose. Any little fool of a woman who knows +enough never to cease resisting you can do it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you like me?" he said brutally.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Much?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite a good deal."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you planning to marry me?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled her languid, amused smile without +shifting her glance from his.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you come to the point?" she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't have to ask your game; I know it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I tell you why you came here at a moment +when you are at bay, attacked everywhere?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"To find out what I know about Majendie."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know anything?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He is coming here tonight," she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, that is not it," he said scornfully, rising and +again approaching her. "You know better. You +exhilarate me—you wake me up; and I need to be +stimulated. So you've got it back in your little brain +to marry me," he said, looking down with amused +contemplation at the reclining figure, that was not +so much human as a perfumed bed of flowers; +"that is, if I pull through and keep my head above +water."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He hesitated a moment, and then said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you keep me waiting? Just to annoy me?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder," she said, looking up from under her +eyelashes at his towering figure. "Perhaps it was +to teach you some things are difficult."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it, eh?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps—and I'm afraid I shall irritate you +many more times."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He took a step nearer and said abruptly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look out! I don't play fair."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither do I," she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She took the button up again, frowning in a +nonchalant way, and held it a moment while she waited +for his decision. He shrugged his shoulders and +stood back, taking several steps toward the center of +the room.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, John G. Slade," she said, her tone changing +from the felinely feminine to the matter-of-fact, +"don't let's continue as children. You are no match +for me at this game. I warn you. Come. Be +direct. Will you have me as an ally?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He turned and looked at her, considering.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In what way?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it of importance to you to know the probable +fate of Majendie and the Atlantic Trust?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—in a way."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I may have means of learning just that +information tonight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want in return?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Full confidence. I want two questions answered."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She had raised herself to a sitting position out of +the languor which was not the indolence of the +Oriental, but rather the volcanic slumbering of the Slav, +always ready to break forth into sudden tremendous +exertion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Can the Associated Trust meet its Wednesday +obligations without assistance?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And second?" he said, amazed at the detailed +knowledge that her question implied.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Second, if it can't, will the Clearing-house help +it through?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What difference to you would it make to know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It would."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How long have you known Bernard Majendie?" +he said slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She accepted the question as a rebuff.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There are my terms," she said, sinking back on +the couch. "You don't wish an ally, then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't trust me?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew you wouldn't," she said indolently; "and +yet, I could help you more than you think."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I trusted a man once," he said scornfully. "I +have never made that mistake with a woman."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"As you wish."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you trying a flyer?" he said, smiling. +"That's the game, is it—a tip?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have told you," she said coldly and in a tone +that carried conviction, "that what interests me is +to win the game itself, the excitement and the perils. +And I have been behind the scenes many times."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe it," he said abruptly. "I should like +to hear—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a woman who keeps the secrets of others +and her own," she answered, interrupting his question.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And if you marry?" he said curiously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Even then." She dismissed the return to the +personal with the first quick movement of her hand +and continued: "I should say, you are the best hated +man in Wall Street."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not exactly inside information."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No one is going to come to your help out of +friendship."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"True."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If Majendie and the Atlantic Trust Company +fail, nothing in this world can pull you through," she +said, seeking in some uncontrolled movement of his +an answer to the statement that was in reality a +question.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>From the moment she had begun to question him, +he experienced a sudden change. He was no longer +dealing with a woman, but with an element he had +outguessed a hundred times.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once an odd idea came to him which struck +him as stupendously ridiculous, and yet made him +glower in covert admiration at the woman who +watched him while seemingly engaged with the +rearrangement of her draperies.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it possible, after all," he thought, "that that +ambitious little head is playing with both Majendie +and me, and that she is setting her cap for the +survivor?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He came back, reseated himself, and said, with an +appearance of candor which would have deceived +most people:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You say Majendie is coming here tonight?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know where he is this afternoon?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And the object of his visit?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The object is easy to guess," she said indifferently. +"You know perfectly well that he is in conference +with Fontaine, Marx, and Gunther, and what +you wish to know is whether they are going to stand +aside and let him sink. Are you ready to answer my +two questions?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And when will you know if he has failed or succeeded?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tonight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He will tell you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall know tonight," she said, with an evasive +smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's your private opinion?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They will come to his assistance," she said carefully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because they are his personal friends," he said, +with an accent of raillery.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You believe Majendie will pull through?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do." She looked at him a moment, and asked +the question, not so much to receive an answer as to +judge from his manner: "Can the Associated Trust +meet its obligations on Wednesday without assistance?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I can," he said quietly, and to himself he added: +"There—if Majendie has set her to pump me, little +good that'll do him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But if the Atlantic Trust Company shuts its +doors," she persisted, "you are caught?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is the general opinion."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you fail?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She was quiet a moment, dissatisfied, looked away +from him and then said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So you don't care to know what I shall learn to-night?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear lady, I won't tell you a thing," he said, +with a laugh, "so stop trying. Leave us to fight our +own battles. Plot all you want in your cunning head +your little feminine plans, but don't get beyond your +depth."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I see you believe I'm interested in Majendie," she +said, with a shrug of her shoulders. "You are not +very well informed."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said bluntly; "you are interested in no +one but Rita Kildair. I know that much." He rose, +took several strides back and forth, and, returning, +stood by her. "I hate allies," he said; "I prefer to +consider you as a woman."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>His remark brought a sharp gleam of curiosity to +her eyes, a spark of instinctive sex antagonism that +flashed and disappeared.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember, I have warned you," she said, retiring +as abruptly into the feline languor of her pose.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He stood, swayed by two emotions, the purely +gentle, almost caressing effect her indolence brought +him, and the desire to establish some sudden empire +over her—to feel his strength above hers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the weak point in your armor?" he said +savagely.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I wouldn't tell you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I know one."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Really?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He drew his chair still closer, and, leaning over, +touched with his stubby forefinger the rings on her +outstretched hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Jewels?" she said, smiling.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Any woman is the same."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know—it is so," she said, and, raising +the deep lusters, she allowed her glance to rest on +them as in a dream of opium.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He drew from his pocket the ring with the ruby, +and held it out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Try this on."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She took it between her finger-tips slowly, looking +at him with a glance that was a puzzled frown, and +slipped it on her finger. Then she extended her hand +gradually to the full length of her white arm against +the purple, and half closed her eyes. There was no +outward sign; only a deep breath went through her, +as though an immense change had taken place in the +inner woman.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I know what I want to know," he said, +watching her closely with almost an animal joy in +this sudden revelation of an appetite in her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a wonderful stone," she said in a whisper; +then she drew it off slowly, as though the flesh +rebelled, and held it out to him, turning away her +eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She raised her eyes and looked at him steadily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are cleverer than I thought," she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this for information about Majendie?" she +said slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"For what, then?" she said steadily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"For a whim."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks; I don't trust your whims."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>For all reply, he took her hand and again placed +the ring on it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wear it," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned the stone quickly inside her palm as +though unable to endure its lure, and looked at him +profoundly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Are</em><span> you going to pull through?" she said angrily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Will it make a difference?" he asked, rising, +with a quick glance at his watch.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She rose in her turn, facing him with a sudden +energy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know the one great mistake you have made?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have condemned yourself to success."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by that?" he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You must always succeed, and that is terrible! +At the first defeat every one will be up in arms against +you—because every one wants to see you ruined."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Every one?" he said, looking in her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A second time she took off the ring and gave it to +him, and as he protested she said coldly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't make me angry. The comedy has been +amusing. Enough. Also, don't trouble yourself +about my motives. I haven't the slightest intention +of marrying you or any one else."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And she accompanied the words with a gesture +so imperative that, amazed at the change, he no longer +insisted. As he put out his hand, she said suddenly, +as if obeying an intuition:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I will tell you what you want to know. Gunther +is almost sure to come to Majendie's aid. I +know it by a woman. Take care of yourself."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And I will tell you exactly the opposite," he said, +bluffing. "Gunther will not lend a cent; Majendie +will go under, and I'll pull through."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll pull through even if the Atlantic Trust +closes?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by," she said, with a shrug.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember what I said," he repeated, and went out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Five minutes later the bell rang, and Kiki brought +her a little box and an envelope. She recognized +Slade's writing, and read:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR LADY,</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Apologies for my rudeness. If you won't accept a gift, +at least wear the ring for a week. I should like to know +what effect it could have on your cold little soul. Oblige +my curiosity. It's only a little reparation for the +disappointment I gave you. J.G.S.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>"Decidedly, he is cleverer than I thought," she +said musingly. In the box was the great ruby ring. +She took it up, examined it carefully, made a +motion as though to replace it in the box, and then +suddenly slipped it on her finger.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Kildair knew pretty nearly every one +in that indescribable society in New York +which is drawn from all levels, without classification, +and imposes but one condition for membership—to +be amusing. Her home, in fact, supplied that need +of all limited and contending superimposed sets, a +central meeting-ground where one entered under the +protection of a flag of truce and departed without +obligation. She knew every one, and no one knew +her. No one knew beyond the vaguest rumors her +history or her resources. No one had ever met a +Mr. Kildair. There was always about her a certain +defensive reserve the moment the limit of acquaintanceship +had been touched. Mrs. Enos Bloodgood, +who saw her most and gave her the fullest confidence, +knew no more than that she had arrived from Paris +five years before, with letters of introduction from +the best quarters. Her invitations were eagerly +sought by leaders of fashionable society, prima +donnas, artists, visiting European aristocrats, and men +of the moment. Her dinners were spontaneous, and +the discussions, though gay and usually daring, were +invariably under the control of wit and good taste.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as Slade's present had been received she +passed into the dining-room to assure herself that +everything was in readiness for the informal chafing-dish +supper to which she had invited some of her +most congenial friends, all of whom, as much as +could be said of any one, were habitués of the studio. +Then, entering her Louis Quinze bedroom, which +exhaled a pleasant stirring atmosphere of perfume, she +slipped off her filmy purple tea-gown and chose an +evening robe of absolute black, of warm velvet, +unrelieved by any color, but which gave to her +shoulders and arms that softness and brilliancy which no +color can impart.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Several times she halted, and, seating herself at +her dressing-table, fell into a fascinated contemplation +of the great ruby that trembled luminously on +her finger like a bubble of scarlet blood. When, in +the act of deftly ordering the masses of her dark +ruddy hair, her white fingers lost themselves among +the tresses, she stopped more than once, entranced at +the brilliancy of the stone against the white flesh and +the sudden depths of her hair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She rose and began to move about the room; but +her hand from time to time continued its coquetries +above her forehead, as though the ring had suddenly +added to her feminine treasury a new instinctive +gesture.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At half-past seven, having finished dressing, she +opened the doors which made a thoroughfare between +the studio and the small dining-room, and passed +into the larger room, where, at one end, Kiki had +brought forth three Sheraton tables, joined them, and +set them with crystal and silver.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Put in order my bedroom," she said, with an +approving nod, "and then you can go."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She moved about the studio, studying the arrangements +of the furniture, seeing always from the tail +of her eye the scarlet spot on her finger.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder what it's worth," she said softly. +"Ten, fifteen thousand at the least." She held +the ring from her, gazed at it dreamily. "I wonder +what woman's eye has looked upon you, you wonderful +gem," she whispered; and, as though transported +with the vision of the past, she drew it slowly toward +her and pressed her lips against it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment a buzz sounded from the hall, and +she recovered herself hastily and, a little ashamed, +said with a feeling of alarm as she went to the door:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Slade is entirely too clever; I must send it back +tomorrow morning."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Before she could reach the door it had opened, +and there entered, with the informality of assured +acquaintance, a young man of twenty-five or -six, +smiling, boyish, delighted at having stolen a march +on the other guests.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are early," said Mrs. Kildair, smiling with +instinctive reflection of the roguish enjoyment that +shone on his handsome, confident face.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavens, haven't I been beating the pavements +for fourteen minutes by the watch!" he said, +laughing. "Regular kid trick." He took her hand, +carrying it to his lips. "The way they do in France, +you know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a nice boy, Teddy," she said, patting his +hand. "Now, hang up your coat, and help me with +the candles."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She watched him as he slipped his overcoat from +the trim wide shoulders, revealing all at once the +clean-cut, well-tailored figure, full of elasticity and +youth. Teddy Beecher always gave her a sense of +well-being and pleasant content, with his +harum-scarum ways and inviting impudence. As he roused +no intellectual resistance in her, she was all the more +sensitive to the purely physical charm in him, which +she appreciated as she might appreciate the finely +strung body and well-modulated limbs of a Perseus +by Benvenuto Cellini.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Will I help you? Command me," he said, coming +in eagerly. "Don't you know, there's a little +silver collar about my neck, and the inscription is, +'This dog belongs to Rita Kildair.' Jove, Rita, but +you're stunning tonight!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He stood stock-still in frank amazement. He had +known her but a short while, and yet he called her +by her first name—a liberty seldom accorded; but +the charm he unconsciously exerted over women, +and which impatiently mystified other men, was in +the very audacity of his enjoyment of life, which +imparted to women the precious sense of their own +youth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Really?" she said, raising her hand to her hair, +that he might notice the glorious ruby.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here—I've only got a miserable thirty +thousand a year, but I've got a couple of uncles with +liver trouble and a bum heart. Say the word—I'm +yours."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>While he said it with a mock-heroic air, there was +in his eyes a flash of excited admiration that she +understood and was well pleased with.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Teddy," she said, a little disappointed +that he did not perceive the ring. "To work. Take +this taper."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He took the wax, contriving to touch her fingers +with feigned artlessness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Rita, who's the mob here tonight? Do +I know any one? I get the place next to you, of +course?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Begin over there," she directed. "The Enos +Bloodgoods are coming; you've met her here."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought they were separated, or something."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, Rita, there's no one like you—serving +us up a couple on the verge."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is not all—I like situations," she said, with +her slow smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I like Elise; but as for the old boy, he can slip +on a banana peel and break his neck, for all I care.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then there's a broker, Garraboy, Elise's brother."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Maud Lille, who's written clever books—a journalist."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know her—hate clever women."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nan Charters—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?" said Beecher, with upraised wick.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nan Charters, who played in 'Monsieur Beaucaire.'"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bully!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled at his impetuousness, and continued:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Majendie and the Stanley Cheevers."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I say—not those—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" she said as he stopped.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You know the gambling story," he said reluctantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Club gossip."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," he said, correcting himself. "One +of my friends was present. The Cheevers play a +good game, a well-united game, and have an unusual +system of makes. They are very successful—let +it go at that. You don't mean to say that +Majendie'll be here?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I expect him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He was a friend of the dad's—a corker, too. +I don't know much about those things, but isn't he +supposed to be up against it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Three knocks in close succession sounded on the +outer door, and Garraboy entered with an air of +familiarity that was displeasing to the younger man. +The two saluted impertinently, with polite +antagonism, detesting each other from the first look.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on with the candles, Teddy," said Mrs. Kildair, +signaling to the newcomer, a young man of +forty who seemed to have been born bald, wrinkled, +and heavy-eyed. The long, bald head on the +thin, straight little body, and the elongated white +collar, gave him somewhat the look of an +interrogation-mark. He was heavily perfumed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the news of the market?" she asked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Another odd turn—went up a couple of points," +he said, looking at her hand. Unlike Beecher, he +had instantly noted the new acquisition with a +malicious smile. His thumb gave a little jerk and he +added softly: "Something new?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Why should the market go up?" she said, +seeming to be intent only on the effect of the +bracketed candles, that now licked the tapestried walls +with their restless tongues.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a general belief that a group of the big +fellows will stand behind the trust companies in +return for certain concessions. I say," he continued, +watching the ruby ring, which instinctively she tried +to conceal from him, "I hope Elise isn't going to +make a fool of herself about Majendie."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, Teddy, you've forgotten the two over +the plaque!" she said aloud—and, a little lower: +"She won't; don't fear."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know her better," he said, without, however, +betraying the slightest brotherly agitation. "She is +apt to do something crazy if anything went wrong +with Majendie. Bloodgood's a hard-skinned old +brute, but if there was anything public he'd cut up +ugly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear he's in the market."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—on the short side, too—in deep."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought we never told secrets, Mrs. Kildair. +Who else is coming? Am I representing the +element of respectability again tonight?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The what?" She looked at him steadily until +he turned away nervously, with the unease of an +animal. "Don't be an ass with me, my dear +Garraboy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By George," he said irritably, "if this were +Europe I'd wager you were in the Secret Service, +Mrs. Kildair."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," she said, smiling appreciatively, and +returned toward young Beecher, who was waiting +by the piano with ill-concealed resentment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The Stanley Cheevers entered—a short, chubby +man with a bleached, vacant face tufted with +mustache and imperial, devoid of eyebrows, with watery +eyes that moved slowly with the motion of his +gourd-like head; Mrs. Cheever, voluble, nervous, +over-dressed, young with the youth of a child and pretty +with the prettiness of a doll.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, who knew them, bowed with a sense of +curiosity to Mrs. Cheever, who held him a little with +a certain trick she had of opening wide her dark, +Oriental eyes; and dropped, with a sense of physical +discomfort, the hand that Cheever flabbily pressed +into his.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Decidedly, I am going to have a grand little time +by myself," he said moodily. "Where the deuce +does Rita pick up this bunch?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The Enos Bloodgoods were still agitated as they +entered. His lips had not quite banished the scowl, +nor her eyes the scorn.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Permit me, my dear," he said, taking off her +wrap, and the words struck those who heard them +with a sudden chill.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was of the unrelenting type that never loses +its temper, but causes others to lose theirs, immovable +in his opinions, with a prowling walk, a studied +antagonism in his manner, while in his bulgy eyes +was an impudent stare which fastened itself like a +leech on the person addressed, to draw out his weakness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Elise Bloodgood, who seemed tied to her husband +by an invisible leash, had a hunted, resisting quality +back of a certain desperate dash which she assumed, +rather than felt, in her attitude toward society—just +as she touched with red, cheeks that were meant +to be simply the background of eyes that were +extraordinary, with a lurking sense of tragedy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Rita, dear, I am almost frantic tonight," she +said hastily, in one of those intimate moments of +which women avail themselves in the midst of their +enemies.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The last rumors are good," said Mrs. Kildair, +bending over her ostensibly to arrange her scarf.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who told you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your brother. Every one downtown believes +the panic is stopped. The market has gone up. +Gunther and Snelling are Bernard's personal friends."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Friends?" she said bitterly. "Yes, that's just +the trouble."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Besides, he is coming tonight—you knew?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I knew," said Mrs. Bloodgood, with a +glance at her husband, who, at the other side of the +studio, seemed intent only on examining a reliquary +in carved stone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he will tell you himself," said Mrs. Kildair, +rearranging a little ornament that made a splash of +gold on the black hair of her companion. "Be +careful—-don't talk too much now."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do I care?" she said rebelliously. "It +has got to end sometime."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She passed her husband, her dark shoulder flinching +unconsciously at his near presence, and gave her +hand to Stanley Cheever and young Beecher, who, +though utterly unconscious of the entanglements of +the evening, was struck by the moody sadness in +her eyes that so strangely contradicted the laugh that +was on her lips. But as he was wondering, a little +constrained, how best to open the conversation, the +door opened once more and two women entered—Nan +Charters, who arrived like a little white cloud, +vibrantly alert and pleased at the stir her arrival +occasioned, and Maud Lille, who appeared behind her +as a shadow, very straight, very dark, Indian in her +gliding movements, with masses of somber hair held +in a little too loosely for neatness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, dear, am I dreadfully late?" said Nan Charters, +who swept into the studio the better to display +her opera-cloak, a gorgeous combination of white +and gold Japanese embroideries, which, mounting +above her throat in conjunction with a scarf of +mingling pinks, revealed only the tip of her vivacious +nose and sparkling eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are strangely early," said Mrs. Kildair, who +presented Beecher with a gesture which at the same +time directed him to attend to the wraps.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," said Miss Charters, with a quick +smile, and by an imperceptible motion she allowed +the cloak to slip from her shoulders and glide into +the waiting hands, revealing herself in a white satin +shot with pigeon red, which caused the eyes of all +the women present to focus suddenly. Garraboy, +Cheever, and Bloodgood, who knew her, came up +eagerly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Teddy Beecher, his arms crowded with the elusive +garment, which gave him almost the feeling of a +human body, bore it to the hall and arranged it with +care, pleasantly aware of the perfume it exhaled. He +returned eagerly, conscious of the instantaneous +impression her smile had made on him as she turned +to thank him, a look that had challenged and aroused +him. She was still chatting gaily, surrounded by +the three men, and he was forced to occupy himself +with Mrs. Bloodgood. His eyes, however, remained +on the young girl, who was listening with unaffected +pleasure to the compliments of her male audience. +Something in the chivalry of the younger man revolted +at the spectacle of the sophisticated Garraboy +and the worldly appetites in the eyes of Cheever and +Bloodgood. He felt almost an uneasy sense of her +peril, which was in effect an instinctive emotion of +jealousy, and, profiting by the moment in which +Mrs. Bloodgood turned to Miss Lille, he slipped to Miss +Charters' side and contrived to isolate her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The studio was now filled with chatter. Mrs. Kildair +passed from group to group, animating it with +a word or two. With the exception of Teddy +Beecher and Nan Charters, in the several groups +there was but one question—the events of the day +in the financial world and the probable outcome of +the secret conference at Gunther's.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Every one watched the clock, awaiting the last +arrival with an impatience that was too truly founded +on the safety of their personal fortunes to be +concealed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The conference ended at six-thirty," said Maud +Lille to Bloodgood and Cheever; "Majendie left for +his house immediately after. I had it from the city +editor on the telephone."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Was any statement given out?" said Cheever, +who put one finger to his lip, as he did when a little +nervous.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"None."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If he goes under, it means the bottom out of the +market," said Cheever, fixing his owlish stare on +Bloodgood's smug face.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you long?" asked Bloodgood, turning on +him with curiosity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A thousand shares," answered Cheever, but in +a tone that carried no conviction.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He won't come," said Maud Lille obstinately.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If he does," said Cheever slowly, "he's pulled +through and the market ought to go up." And a +second time his finger jerked up to his lips, with the +gesture of the stutterer.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He won't come," repeated Maud Lille.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Bloodgood gave her a short look, trying to fathom +the reason of her belief, a question he did not care +to put before Cheever.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Majendie appeared at the entrance +of the studio. The conversation, which had +been mounting in nervous staccatos, fell with the +hollowness that one sometimes feels in the air before +the first crash of a storm. By an uncontrollable +impulse, each turned, eager to read in the first +indication some clue to his personal fate.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The last arrival had opened the outer door unheard, +and, profiting by the commotion, had removed +his overcoat and hat in the anteroom.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When the rest of the party perceived him, +Majendie was standing erect and smiling under the +Turkish lamp that, hanging from the balcony, cast +a mellow light on his genial, aristocratic forehead. +In every detail, from the ruddy, delicately veined +cheeks and white mustache to the slight, finely shaped +figure at ease in the evening coat that fitted him as +a woman's ball gown, he radiated the patrician, but +the patrician of urbanity, tact, and generous impulses.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear hostess," he said at once, bending over +Mrs. Kildair's hand with a little extra formality, "a +thousand excuses for keeping you and your guests +waiting. But just at present there are quite a +number of persons who seem to be determined to keep +me from my engagements. Am I forgiven?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she answered, with a sudden feeling of +admiration for the air of absolute good humor with +which he pronounced these words, mystifying though +they were to her sense of divination.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I know every one," he said, glancing +around without a trace of emotion at Bloodgood and +Cheever, whose presence could not have failed to +be distasteful. "You are very good to be so +lenient, and I will accept whatever penance you impose. +Are we going to have one of those delightful chafing-dish +suppers that only you know how to provide?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What pride!" she murmured to herself, as he +passed over to Miss Charters with a compliment that +made her and Beecher break out laughing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Up to the moment, the group had found not the +slightest indication of the probable outcome of the +afternoon's conference. If anything, there was in +his carriage a quiet exhilaration. But the moment +was approaching when he must come face to face +with Mrs. Bloodgood, who, either in order to gain +time for the self-control that seemed almost beyond +her, or that she might draw him into more immediate +converse, had withdrawn so as to be the last he +should greet. Majendie perceived instantly the +imprudence of the maneuver, and by a word addressed +to Mrs. Kildair, who followed at his side, contrived +to bring himself to the farther side of the group, +of which little Mrs. Cheever and Garraboy were the +other two.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I make my excuses to the ladies first," he said, +with a nod to Garraboy, whom he thus was enabled +to pass. He offered his hand to Mrs. Bloodgood, +saying: "Grant me absolution, and I promise to do +everything I can to make you as gay as I feel now."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Elise Bloodgood took his hand, glancing into his +face with a startled glance, and immediately +withdrew, murmuring something inaudible.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair, who with everyone had been +listening to his words for the double meaning that +seemed to be conveyed, stepped in front of +Mrs. Bloodgood to cover her too evident agitation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise," she said sharply, pressing her hand, "get +hold of yourself. You must! Everything is all +right. Didn't you understand him?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, if he were going to die tomorrow he would +never tell me," said Mrs. Bloodgood, pressing her +handkerchief against her lips. "Nothing will ever +break through his pride."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But he told you in so many words," said +Mrs. Kildair—who, however, didn't believe what she +said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He told me nothing—nothing!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You must control yourself," said Mrs. Kildair, +alarmed at her emotion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do I care?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But you must! Listen. When I go into the +dining-room don't follow me. I will contrive to take +your husband with me. Profit by the chance. +Besides, you are in no state to judge. Does Bernard +look like a man who has just been told he is ruined? +Come, a little courage."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She left her and, stepping into her bedroom, +donned a Watteau-like cooking-apron, and, slipping +her rings from her fingers, fixed the three on her +pin-cushion with a hatpin. From the mirror in +which she surveyed herself she could see the interior +of the studio—Nan Charters' laughing face above +the piano, where she was running off a succession of +topical songs, surrounded by a chorus of men, while +Beecher, at her side, solicitously turned the pages.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy seems quite taken," she thought. But +the tensity of the drama drove from her all other +considerations. Completely mystified by Majendie's +manner, she was studying the moment when she +could throw him together with Elise Bloodgood, +convinced that from the woman she would learn what +the man concealed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your rings are beautiful, dear, beautiful," said +the deep voice of Maud Lille, who, with Garraboy +and Mrs. Cheever, was in the room.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I never saw the ruby before," said Mrs. Cheever +in a nervous voice. "My dear, you are the most +mysterious woman in the world. Think of having a +ring like that, and never wearing it!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a wonderful stone," said Mrs. Kildair, +touching with her thin fingers the ring that lay +uppermost.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is beautiful—very beautiful," said the journalist, +her eyes fastened on it with an uncontrollable +fascination.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cheever, her lips parted, her black eyes wide +with eagerness, leaned over. She put out her +fingers and let them rest caressingly on the ruby, +withdrawing them as though the contact had burned +them, while on either cheek little spots of red +excitement showed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It must be very valuable," she said, her breath +catching slightly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy, moving forward, suddenly looked at the +ring.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is valuable—very much so," said Mrs. Kildair, +glancing down. Then she went to the door +that led into the studio, and clapped her hands:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Attention, everybody! Beecher and Garraboy +are the chefs. Each one must choose his scullery-maid. +Mr. Majendie is to make the punch. Everyone +else is butler and waitress. Mrs. Cheever, did +you ever peel onions?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens, no!" said Mrs. Cheever, delicately +recoiling.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, there are no onions to peel," said +Mrs. Kildair, laughing. "All you have to do is to +carry dishes or make the toast—on to the kitchen!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Charters, you are engaged at any salary +you may name," said Beecher, forestalling +Garraboy, who was coming forward.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I shall drop every dish," said Nan Charters, +rising from the piano. "I don't know anything +about cooking."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Splendid! Then you'll make no mistakes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He installed her at one end of the table, and went +off for the chafing-dish. When he returned, gingerly +balancing it on a silver platter, Garraboy, profiting +by his absence, was seated beside Nan Charters, +speaking in a purposely low voice. She was listening, +perfectly composed, looking straight before her +with a tolerant, uninterested smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>If women often can conceal their true natures from +women, men seldom deceive one another. There was +a fixity in Garraboy's glance which Beecher +understood and hotly resented. But at the moment when, +setting the tray on the table, he was meditating some +ill-advised remark, Mrs. Cheever, passing by, said +with ill-concealed impatience in her thin, hurried +voice:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Garraboy, I am sorry for you, but I have +been assigned as your assistant, and I should like to +know what I am to do."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy rose immediately, bowed with perfect +suavity, and rejoined Mrs. Cheever, who said to him +something that the others did not hear, but at which +they saw him shrug his shoulders.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what are we going to make?" said Nan +Charters, with the enjoyment that this exhibition +of feminine jealousy had brought still in her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like Garraboy," said Beecher directly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" she said, smiling a little, and raising +her eyebrows as though interrogating a child.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I like you," he answered abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Accustomed to contend with men, she was surprised +by the genuineness of his remark, which was +inspired by a sentiment deeper than jealousy. She +looked at him again with that sudden second estimate +which is vital.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not difficult to handle," she said carelessly, +unaware of the touch of intimacy which her reply +permitted.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like him," he said obstinately, "and I +don't like his crowd—the crowd that is here +to-night. They're like a pack of wolves. What the +deuce does Rita see in them?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair has generally, I should say, a very +good reason for whom she invites," she said carelessly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But these Cheevers—they're impossible. How +the deuce do they live?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought Mr. Majendie very charming."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Majendie—yes, I except him," he said +enthusiastically. "He's a gentleman."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That counts a good deal with you?" she said, +with a touch of raillery.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It does. I think a gentleman is almost the rarest +thing you meet with today," he said, holding his +ground, "a gentleman in the heart. I know only +four or five."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you are right," she said, changing her tone. +She looked at him a third time, at the honest, boyish +loyalty so plainly written on his face, and said: "You +haven't gone out much here?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I'm just back from knocking around the +world, hunting in Africa and all that sort of +uselessness."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and tell me about it sometime.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"May I?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed at his impetuousness, and pointed to +the contents of the chafing-dish, which had been +simmering neglected; but more than once during the +operation her glance returned to the eager, earnest +face.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Garraboy, at the other end of the +table, assisted by Mrs. Cheever and Maud Lille, was +busy with a lobster à la Newburg. Mrs. Kildair, +having finished in the kitchen, had entered the +dining-room, where she established a sort of provisional +serving-table. She called to her side Cheever and +Bloodgood, and, under the pretext of arranging the +dishes from the china-closet, kept them isolated. At +this moment Elise Bloodgood approached Majendie, +who, at the rear end of the studio, was occupied with +the brewing of a punch. Natural as was the movement, +it was instantly perceived by the four or five +persons vitally interested. A moment afterward +Mrs. Bloodgood passed into the bedroom; but there +was in her carriage a triumph that she did not care +to conceal.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He's won out," thought Bloodgood.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The shorts will be caught," thought Cheever. +"The devil! I must cover."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Has he lied to her?" said Mrs. Kildair to +herself. "If everything is all right, why should he +conceal it from any one?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She went across the room, stopping at the punch-table.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you everything you need?" she asked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything, thank you," Majendie answered +gently; but there was in his voice a tired note, as if +some effort had suddenly exhausted him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I understood what you meant," she said, looking +at him not without a little pity—an emotion which +was rare with her. "Let me congratulate you on +the result of this afternoon."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you very much for your congratulations," +he said quietly, taking her hand. "If you knew, +you will understand why I was kept so late."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As he bowed, the front of his jacket opening a +little, she saw or fancied she saw in the inner pocket +a strip of green, slightly protruding. She left him, +still unconvinced, and turned to the company.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything ready, Teddy? All right. Every +one sit down. Mrs. Cheever and Mrs. Bloodgood +are appointed butlers—because real work will do +them good. Sit down, sit down. I'll be back in a +minute."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As she turned to her bedroom, there came a strong +ring, twice repeated. She paused, astonished.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who can that be?" she thought, frowning, and +directing her steps toward the antechamber. "No +one is allowed to come up. It must be a telegram."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She opened the door, and Slade entered.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I came right up," he said directly, "because I +had no success on the telephone. You rather excited +my curiosity this afternoon. Please invite me to your +party."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The first moment of irritation was succeeded, on +her part, by the feeling of elation. The impulse that +had brought Slade so unexpectedly there was a feeling +of jealousy, in which Beecher and Majendie were +confusedly mixed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He wishes to watch me with his own eyes," she +said triumphantly. "Very well; he shall be well +punished."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade's arrival produced a moment of profound +astonishment. Bloodgood and Maud Lille exchanged +quick glances, believing the meeting between +Majendie and Slade had been premeditated. Garraboy +plucked Cheever nervously by the sleeve, while +Majendie, as if realizing that he was dealing with +an antagonist of a different caliber, rose with a little +nervous inflation of the chest. Rapid as had been +the interim in the antechamber, Mrs. Kildair had +had time to say:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Majendie is here. Do you know what happened +this afternoon?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do," said Slade, with malicious enjoyment, and +he added: "Do you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she replied, convinced, likewise, of the +falsity of his statement. Then aloud she added: +"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Slade, an impromptu +guest."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She passed with him about the table, introducing +him where it was necessary. Slade and Majendie +did not offer hands; each bowed with a quiet, +measured politeness. On the contrary, when Beecher was +reached, the older man grasped the hand of the +younger, and held it a moment with a grip that, +despite Beecher's own strength, made him wince.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, be a good boy and place Mr. Slade somewhere," +she said, resting her hand purposely on the +young man's shoulder. "I'll take off my apron and +be back immediately."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped near Majendie, who had returned to +the punch-table for an extra glass, and, seeing that +her movements were followed by Slade, said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bernard, believe me, I did not plan it. I had +no idea he was coming."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It makes not the slightest difference," he said +instantly. "Mr. Slade and I have no quarrel. +Please don't worry about me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're an awfully good sort," she said abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is high praise from you," he said, with a +little critical smile which showed he was not entirely +the dupe of her maneuvers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She went into her bedroom, and, divesting herself +of her apron, hung it in the closet. Then, going to +her dressing-table, she drew the hatpin from the +pin-cushion and carelessly slipped the rings on her +fingers. All at once she frowned and looked quickly +at her hand. Only two rings were there. The third +one—the ring with the ruby—was gone!</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Her first emotion was of irritation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How stupid!" she said to herself, and, returning +to her dressing-table, began to search among +the silver and ivory boxes. All at once she stopped. +She remembered with a vivid flash putting the pin +through the three rings.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She made no further search, but remained without +moving, her fingers slowly tapping the table, her head +inclined, her lips drawn in a little between her teeth, +watching in the glass the crowded table reflected from +the outer studio.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In that gay party, one person was the thief—but +which one? Each guest had had a dozen opportunities +in the course of the time she had been in the +kitchen.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Too much prinking, pretty lady," called out +Garraboy, who, from where he was seated, could see +her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not he," she said quickly. Then she reconsidered: +"Why not? He's shifty—who knows? Let +me think."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>To gain time, she went slowly back to the kitchen, +her head bowed, her thumb between her teeth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who has taken it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She ran over the characters of her guests and their +situations as she knew them. Strangely enough, with +the exception of Beecher and Majendie, at each her +mind stopped upon some reason that might explain +a sudden temptation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And even Majendie—if he is bankrupt or +running away," she thought. "No, I shall find out +nothing this way. That is not the important thing +just now. The important thing is to get the ring +back. But how?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once she realized the full disaster of the +situation. Slade would never believe her; and yet, +how was it possible to admit before others who had +lent her the ring?</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What could I say to him?" she thought desperately. +"No, no; I must have the ring back, whatever +happens. I won't give him that hold. I must +get it back—some way—somehow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And mechanically, deliberately, she continued to +pace back and forth, her clenched hand beating the +deliberate, rhythmic measure of her journey.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the studio, meanwhile, under the gay leadership +of Majendie and Nan Charters, the spirits of the +company began to rise. The rival chefs were +surrounded by anxious admirers, who shouted laughing +instructions or protested with mock agony against +the shower of red pepper.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The ceremony had served to bring Beecher and +Nan Charters on terms of sympathetic familiarity. +The young actress had the secret of what is meant +by that much abused word—charm. Her vivacious +movements were all charming. The eagerness with +which her eyes seized the excitement of the moment, +the soft and yet animated tones of her voice, the most +casual gesture she made, or the most evident reply, +all seemed invested with a peculiar charm which was +at the same time a delight in pleasure and a happiness +in the consciousness of pleasing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher did not or could not conceal the empire +she had so suddenly acquired over his imagination, +while Nan Charters, quite aware of what was +happening, laughingly provoked him further, a little +excited beyond the emotions of an ordinary flirtation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>During the progress of this personal duel, which, +however, every one perceived with different emotions, +Slade, placed at the middle of the table, followed +only the expressions of Bernard Majendie, his +scrutiny at times becoming so insistently profound that +the banker several times noticed it with a swift +glance of annoyed interrogation, which, however, +did not alter in the least the fixity of the other's gaze.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, two or three conversations, expressed +in snatched phrases, took place between those whose +interests in the stock market were put in jeopardy +by the mystery as to Majendie's fate.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There'll be a rush of the shorts to cover tomorrow, +if this is true," said Cheever in a low whisper +to his wife. "Pump Mrs. Bloodgood all you can."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How quick do you suppose they'll give the news +out?" said Bloodgood to Garraboy. "It means a +buying movement as soon as they do."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Any paper may have the news tomorrow," said +the broker, and the glass that he took from the +punch-table shook as he raised it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think Slade knows?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not sure—but I think he does," said Garraboy +carefully. "Better meet me at the Waldorf +at eleven. I'll get another line on it by then."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why the deuce should he pull through?" said +Bloodgood, with a quick, dull fury.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy, with his malicious smile, perceiving that +Bloodgood's hatred was purely financial, chuckled +to himself, took a couple of glasses in rapid +succession, and returned to the table under perfect +control, not without a scowl at the other end of the +table, where Nan Charters and young Beecher were +laughingly disputing the possession of the +pepper-shaker.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A moment later, as Mrs. Cheever was exclaiming +at their hostess' prolonged delay to Garraboy, who +was dipping into the lobster à la Newburg, which +he was preparing to serve, Mrs. Kildair slipped into +the room like a lengthening shadow. Her entrance +had been made with scarcely a perceptible sound, and +yet each guest was aware of it, at the same moment, +with the same uncontrollable nervous start.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavens, dear lady," exclaimed Garraboy, with +a twitch of his arms. "You come in on us like a +Greek tragedy. What is the surprise?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke, Beecher, looking up, saw her turn +suddenly on him, drawing her forehead together +until the eyebrows ran in a straight line.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have something to say to you all," she said in +a quiet, discordant voice, while her eyes ran +restlessly through the company with a predatory +sharpness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>There was no mistaking the gravity in her voice. +Garraboy extinguished the oil-lamp, covering the +chafing-dish clumsily with a disagreeable tinny +sound; Mrs. Cheever and Mrs. Bloodgood swung +about abruptly; Maud Lille rose a little from her +seat; Nan Charters, dramatically sensitive, seized +unconsciously the arm of young Beecher; while the +men, with the exception of Slade, who still watched +Majendie like a terrier, imitated their movements +of expectancy with a clumsy shuffling of the feet.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Bloodgood."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mrs. Kildair?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Kindly do as I ask."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She had spoken his name with a peremptory +positiveness that was almost an accusation. He rose, +placing his napkin carefully at the side of his plate, +raising his short eyebrows a little in surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Go to the vestibule," she continued, immediately +shifting her glance from him to the others. "Are +you there? Shut the sliding doors that lead into the +studio. Lock them. Bring me the key."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He executed the order without bungling, while the +company, in growing amazement, fascinated, watched +his squat figure returning with the key.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You've locked it?" she said, making the +question an excuse to bury her glance in his.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"As you wished me to."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She took from him the key, and, shifting slightly, +likewise locked the door into her bedroom through +which she had come.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Then, transferring the keys to her left hand, +seemingly unaware of Bloodgood, who still composedly +awaited her further instructions, her eyes studied a +moment the possibilities of the apartment and then +returned to her guests.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Cheever," she said abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mrs. Kildair."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Put out all the candles except the candelabrum +on the table."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Put out the lights?" he said, rising, with his +peculiar nervous movement of the fingers to the lips.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At once."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cheever, in rising, met the glance of his wife, +and the look of questioning and wonder that passed +did not escape the others.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But, my dear Mrs. Kildair," cried Nan Charters, +with a little nervous catch of her breath, "what +is it? I'm getting terribly worked up."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Lille," said Mrs. Kildair's undeviating +voice of command, while Beecher placed his hand +firmly over his companion's, which had begun to +open and shut in nervous tension.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The journalist, more composed than the rest, had +watched the proceedings from that shadowy calm +which had made her presence almost unnoticed. +Now, as though forewarned by professional instinct +that something sensational was hanging on the +moment, she rose quietly with almost a stealthy motion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Put the candelabrum on this table—here," said +Mrs. Kildair, after a long moment's confrontation. +She indicated the large round table on which the +punch-bowl was set. "No, wait. Mr. Bloodgood, +first clear off the table, cover and all; I want nothing +on it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As Bloodgood started to remove the punch-bowl, +Majendie rose quickly and took the heavy +candelabrum from the hands of Maud Lille, saying:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Permit me; that's rather heavy for you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Mrs. Kildair—" began Mrs. Cheever's +voice, in shrill crescendo.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair, as though satisfied by her examination +of the journalist, nodded to Majendie, and, +perceiving the mahogany table clear, said without +notice of Mrs. Cheever:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good! Now put the candelabrum down on it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In a moment, as Cheever proceeded lumberingly +on his errand, the brilliant cross-fire of lights +dropped away in the studio, only a few smoldering +wicks winking on the walls, while the high ceiling +seemed to recede as it came under the sole dominion +of the three candles bracketed in silver at the head +of the bare mahogany table.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now listen!" said Mrs. Kildair, and her voice +was cold and abrupt. "My ring has just been +stolen!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She said it suddenly, hurling the news at them, +and waiting ferret-like for some indication in the +chorus that broke out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The hand that Beecher still grasped shot out from +him as though it had been stung. For the first time, +Slade, forgetting Majendie, wheeled brusquely and +concentrated his glance on Mrs. Kildair, who listened +unmoved to the storm of exclamations:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Stolen!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my dear Mrs. Kildair, not that!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Stolen—by Jove!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Rita dear!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Stolen—here—tonight?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The ring has been taken in the last twenty +minutes," continued Mrs. Kildair, in the same +determined, chiseled accents. "I am not going to mince +words. The ring has been taken, and one of you +here is the thief. This is exactly the situation."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment nothing was heard but an indescribable +gasp, while each, turning by an uncontrollable +impulse, searched the face of his neighbors. +Suddenly Slade's deep bass broke out:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Stolen, Mrs. Kildair?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Stolen," she replied quietly, meeting his +inquisitorial glance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you searched very carefully?" said +Majendie. "Mistakes are easily made. It may have +slipped to the floor. Are you certain that it has +been taken?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. There is not the slightest doubt," said +Mrs. Kildair, conscious of the almost admiring +suspicion in Slade's glance. "Three of you were in my +bedroom when I took off my rings, placed a hatpin +through them, and fastened them to the pin-cushion. +Am I correct, Mr. Garraboy?" she added abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Perfectly so," said the broker, staring ahead with +a sudden consciousness of his dilemma. He added +punctiliously; "I was there."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"With the exception of Mr. Slade, each of you +has passed through my bedroom a dozen times. The +ring is gone, and one of you has taken it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cheever gave a little scream and reached +heavily for a glass of water. Mrs. Bloodgood said +something inarticulate, covering her heart with her hand +in the muffled outburst of masculine exclamation:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil you say!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Incredible!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove! A nasty mess."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Only Maud Lille's calm voice could be heard saying:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite true. I was in the room when you took +them off. The ruby was on top."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cheever sought to add her testimony, but +was incapable of speech. In her agitation she spilled +half of the glass of water as she put it down from +her lips.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Was the ring valuable?" said Slade carefully, +with a quiet enjoyment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Their eyes met a moment—a look incomprehensible +to the others.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It was worth over fifteen thousand dollars," +Mrs. Kildair answered, in the buzz of astonishment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And what are you going to do about it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not minced words," she said, turning her +eyes to Maud Lille and back to Garraboy. "There +is a thief, and that thief is here in this room. Now, +I am not going to stand on ceremony. I am +going to have that ring back in one way or +another—now. Listen to me carefully. I intend to have +that ring back, and, until I do, not a soul shall leave +this room."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A search?" said Slade quietly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she said instantly, tapping on the table with +her nervous knuckles. "I don't care to know the +thief—all I want is the ring. And this is the way +I am going to get it." She stopped for another +quick, searching glance, and continued with cold +control:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going to make it possible for whoever took +it to restore it to me without possibility of detection. +The doors are locked and will stay locked. I am +going to put out the lights, and I am going to count +one hundred—slowly. You will be in absolute +darkness; no one will know or see what is done, and +I give my word that I will count the full hundred. +There will be no surprise, no turning up of lights. +But if, at the end of that time, the ring is not placed +here on this table, I shall telephone for detectives +and have every one in this room searched. Am I +clear?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The transfer of the candelabrum to the further +table had left those of the diners who had remained +by the dinner-table in half obscurity. Instantly there +was a shifting and a dragging of chairs, a confused +jumble of questions and explanations.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Nan Charters for the second time seized the arm +of Teddy Beecher. She murmured something which +he did not hear. He glanced at her face, and for +a moment an incredible suspicion crossed his mind. +But the next, as he glanced down the table at the +totally unnerved attitude of Mrs. Cheever and +Mrs. Bloodgood, he understood better the agitation of his +companion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you suspect any one?" he whispered, by an +impulse that seemed to spring into his mind.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The young actress turned to him with almost an +expression of terror in her eyes, which at the same +time implored him to be silent.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She knows something," he thought, with a +somber feeling. His own face was flushed. He felt +that to all he must appear guilty. "Every one feels +the same," he thought, looking again at his companion, +who was gazing with almost frightened intensity +straight ahead of her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He followed her glance, and saw that the object +of her gaze was none other than Mrs. Enos Bloodgood, +who still held her hand pressed over her breast, +her lips parted as though suffocating with emotion. +But, before he had time even to consider the bearing +of this discovery, Mrs. Kildair's voice, firm and +unrelenting, cut short the confusion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Every one come to this table, please. Take your +places here," she said, and to emphasize the +command she rapped sharply for order.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the bustle that took place, Beecher was +separated from Miss Charters, and when he found +himself at the table she was opposite him, her eyes on +the table.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you make a little room?" he heard Maud +Lille's low voice say, and, drawing away from +Cheever, who was on his right, he allowed the +journalist to take her place beside him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Majendie was on the left of Mrs. Kildair, Slade +next to him, sweeping the table slowly with his +direct, lowering glance, his lips slightly pursed. +Bloodgood, his hands sunk in his pockets, stared bullishly +ahead, while between Cheever and his wife there +passed a covert, terrible glance of interrogation. +Garraboy, with his hands locked over his chin, arms +folded, looked straight ahead staring fixedly at his +hostess.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair, having assured herself that all was +arranged as she desired, blew out two of the three +candles, which suddenly caused the eyes on the dim +faces to stand out in startled relief.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall count one hundred—no more, no less," +she said quietly. "Either the ring is returned or +every one in this room is to be searched. Remember."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She motioned to Slade, who, leaning over, blew +out the remaining candle, while a little hysterical cry +was heard from Mrs. Cheever.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The wick shone a moment with a hot, glowing +spire, and then everything was black. Mrs. Kildair +began to count.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She gave each number with the inexorable +regularity of a clock's reiterated note.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Eleven—twelve—thirteen—fourteen— +fifteen—sixteen—seventeen—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the room every sound was distinct—the rustle +of a shifting dress, the grinding of a shoe, the deep, +slightly asthmatic breathing of a man.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty-one—twenty-two—twenty-three— +twenty-four—twenty-five—twenty-six—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The counting went on, without the slightest variation, +with a methodic, rasping reiteration that began +to produce almost an hypnotic effect on the +imaginations held in suspense.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thirty—thirty-one—thirty-two—thirty-three—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A slight rasping breath was heard, and then a man +nervously clearing his throat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thirty-nine—forty—forty-one—forty-two—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Still nothing had happened. No other sound had +broken in on the strained attention of every ear. +Yet the voice that counted did not vary in the +slightest measure; only the sound became less human, more +metallic.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Forty-seven—forty-eight—forty-nine— +fifty—fifty-one—fifty-two—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A woman had sighed—Mrs. Bloodgood next to +him—the sigh of a woman yielding up +consciousness to pain.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Fifty-four—fifty-five—fifty-six—fifty-seven +—fifty-eight—fifty-nine—sixty—sixty-one—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once, clear, ringing, unmistakable, on the +sounding plane of the table was heard a quick metallic +note that echoed and reëchoed in the empty blackness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The ring!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>It was Maud Lille's deep voice that had cried out. +Beecher suddenly against his shoulder felt the weight +of Mrs. Bloodgood's swaying body. The voice that +counted hesitated a moment, but only a moment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sixty-two—sixty-three—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Several voices began to protest:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Light the candles!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's too much!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't go on!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Seventy-five—seventy-six—seventy-seven— +seventy-eight—seventy-nine—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The sound dominated the protest. Some one +began to laugh, an hysterical, feverish laughter that +chilled Beecher to the bones. He put out his hand +and steadied the body of the woman next to him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Eighty-five—eighty-six—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Hurry, oh, hurry—please hurry!" cried the +voice of Nan Charters, and some one else cried:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough—this is terrible!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ninety-five—ninety-six—ninety-seven— +ninety-eight—ninety-nine, and one hundred."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At once a match sputtered in the hands of Slade. +There was a cry from every one, and the table +shivered with the weight of those who craned forward. +Then a second cry of amazement and horror. The +table was absolutely bare. The ring a second time +had been taken.</span></p> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 100%" id="figure-62"> +<span id="in-that-gay-party-one-person-was-a-thiefbut-which-one-a-match-sputtered-there-was-a-cry-of-amazement-and-horror-the-table-was-absolutely-bare"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""In that gay party one person was a thief—but which one? ... A match sputtered. There was a cry of amazement and horror. The table was absolutely bare"" src="images/img-058.jpg" /> +<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> +<span class="italics">"In that gay party one person was a thief—but which one? ... A match sputtered. There was a cry of amazement and horror. The table was absolutely bare"</span></div> +</div> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>For a full, strained moment not a sound escaped +the company; even the strongest natures, Slade, +Majendie and Rita Kildair seemed powerless to grasp +what had taken place. Then the realization came, +in a flash. What the first thief had failed to carry +through another had boldly dared: a man or a woman, +deliberately or hysterically, had seized the opportunity +that had lain there, in the darkness, between the +sixty-first second and the hundredth count.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The match in Slade's hands burned his fingers, +and went out. In the sudden blackness a dozen cries +were heard:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Light the candle!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Turn on the electric light!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Search the floor!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Stolen again!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ghastly!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A light! A light!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Another match sputtered, and one candle caught +the flame and flung its expanding circles of light +around them.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It must have rolled to the floor," said Majendie's +voice, among the first.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!" broke in Slade's powerful bass. +"There are no carpets; we would have heard it. +There is a second thief here. Every one must be +searched. Mrs. Kildair, if you wish I'll call up my +detective agency."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Mrs. Kildair instantly, and her voice +had regained its calm. "I will attend to that myself."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She went quickly to the door into the bedroom, +unlocked it, passed through, and locked it again. A +moment later the impatient ring of a telephone was +heard.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the ill-lit studio the greatest confusion prevailed. +Every one seemed, by a common impulse, to desire +to escape to the farthest ends of the room, stumbling +and bumping against one another in the obscurity. +Some instinct impelled Beecher to Nan Charters' +side. He took her arm with a strong, reassuring +grip, expecting to find her still shaken with emotion; +but, to his amazement, he found her entirely collected.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, I am all right," she said, releasing +herself, with a little smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure?" he said doubtfully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment, as he stood staring at her, +perplexed, Slade's voice rang out peremptorily:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The electric lights—some one turn on the +lights!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He left her, and, going to the wall toward the +antechamber, pressed the three buttons embedded there. +Instantly the great room was showered with a brutal +glare. Near the piano, Mrs. Cheever was sunk in an +arm-chair, in a seemingly hysterical state, while +Mr. Cheever, glass in hand, was bending over her; +Mrs. Bloodgood was seated at the dining-table, her head +resting in her hands; Garraboy and Bloodgood were +turning in the middle of the floor. Only Maud Lille, +stoic and alert, remained at her original place. Slade +and Majendie were carefully exploring the floor.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher did not at once return to his companion. +Her sudden change perplexed him with thoughts +that he did not wish to analyze too deeply. He +expected that she would rejoin Mrs. Bloodgood; but +the young actress, as though purposely avoiding her, +went finally to where Maud Lille was standing, and +said, with a command that startled Beecher:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Majendie, there is always a chance that the +ring may have rolled off the table and been caught in +somebody's dress. Such things have happened again +and again. I suggest that every woman make a +careful search."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Charters is quite right," said Majendie, +who, advancing to the middle of the studio, repeated +the suggestion. "The situation is frightful; we +must take every precaution to avoid the chances of +an accident."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The four women immediately began to examine +the ruffles and draperies of their skirts—without +success.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once the door at the back of the room opened, +and Mrs. Kildair reappeared.</span></p> +<p class="pnext" id="id1"><span>"I shall have the detectives here—a man and a +woman—within half an hour," she said. "There +is nothing to do but wait."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She seated herself in a chair near the door, her +hands stretched out over the arms, her head lowered. +Every one sat down, with the exception of Maud +Lille, who, however, shifted a little so as to have the +support of the piano. No one spoke; the situation +had passed beyond comment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>On the dining-table the little alcohol-lamp under a +chafing-dish burnt itself out unnoticed. At the end +of thirty-five minutes, during which every one had +been intent on the torturous progress of the clock, +a sudden buzz was heard.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair rose and, passing out by way of the +bedroom, was heard talking behind the closed doors +that led into the hall, a sound followed by the +indistinguishable jumble of voices.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A nervous five minutes, and she reappeared, with +the same incomprehensible calm that had marked her +during the period in the dark.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The women will go into the bedroom," she said, +without variation of her voice. "The men will be +searched in the dining-room."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"One moment," said Slade, taking a step in advance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair turned with a start, the first agitation +noticeable.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is absolutely necessary for me to keep an +appointment at ten o'clock," he said, glancing at the +clock, which stood at the last quarter. "As I was +not here when the ring was first stolen, I ask the +privilege of being examined the first."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this there was a murmur, and Mrs. Kildair +hesitated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade, giving a disdainful shoulder to the protest, +strode deliberately to Mrs. Kildair and spoke with +her in a low voice. At the end of a moment +Mrs. Kildair nodded as though convinced, and, going to +the folding doors, unlocked them. Outside a man +in a dark business suit, as grimly correct as an +undertaker, was waiting with folded arms.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade bowed and passed into the hall, shutting the +doors behind him, while Mrs. Kildair came back +slowly, evidently running over in her mind the order +of selection.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bloodgood," she said finally, "will you go +first?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bloodgood, surprised at the formal appellation, +rose hastily, and started blindly for the vestibule +through which Slade had passed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In my bedroom, please," said Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The young woman checked herself, faltering a +little, and entered the bedroom, where, for a moment, +could be seen the drab figure of another woman, +ornamented by a little toque with a red feather.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair," said Majendie, rising, "it is +equally important for me to leave as soon as possible. +While I know that I ask a favor, possibly all of you +know that my affairs are at a vital stage, and I should +appreciate it very much if there were no objection to +my being examined the next."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, with a courteous bow, as he concluded.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am perfectly willing," said Beecher at once.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not," said Bloodgood, while Cheever made +a gesture of dissent.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor I," said Garraboy. "I have my own appointment, +that means a great deal to me. I regret +that I cannot accede to Mr. Majendie's request."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"These gentlemen are quite within their rights," +said Majendie, accepting the refusal with the same +courtesy. He thanked Beecher with a smile, and +added: "If you are willing, Mrs. Kildair, shall we +draw lots for it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so," said Mrs. Kildair, and she arranged +four slips in her fingers and tendered them.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Majendie drew the longest, and was, therefore, +forced to wait until Garraboy, Bloodgood, and +Cheever had passed ahead. He glanced at the clock with +a sudden, uneasy look, and returned to his chair: +but, for the first time, a frown appeared on his face, +while his fingers tore into bits the slip of paper, which +he did not notice he had retained.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher was unpleasantly aware that Garraboy was +watching him, and this scrutiny, which might have +been inspired by a personal jealousy, struck him as a +deliberate suspicion. He returned the look with a +belligerent intensity, conscious in his own mind that +he had already formed a prejudice as to the identity +of the second thief.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A woman might have taken the ring on impulse," +he thought uneasily, "but only a man could have had +the cold daring to take it the second time."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He eliminated Majendie by an instinctive +rejection; Slade appeared an equally impossible +solution.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's Cheever, Bloodgood, or Garraboy," he +thought. "And Cheever hasn't the nerve—I don't +believe it. It's Bloodgood or Garraboy—and +Garraboy is the most likely."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly a hot, panicky feeling came to him. +What if the real thief—Garraboy, for instance—had +slipped the ring into his own pocket? He unlocked +his hands and hurriedly searched his clothes. +Then annoyed at seeing this childish action come +under the notice of the broker, he shifted in his seat +and glanced toward Nan Charters. To his surprise, +he found again the same indications of nervousness +in the concentration of her eye on the door leading +into the bedroom.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Mrs. Bloodgood emerged, and +Mrs. Cheever went in. At once the nervous tension of his +companion seemed to relax, and she sank back in her +seat, with an indifferent glance around the room.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Decidedly, there is something queer between the +two," he thought, mystified.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the studio the same stony silence was maintained. +Through the open doors that led to the antechamber +Slade reappeared, hesitated a moment as if +to reenter the studio, then bowed and went out. +Behind him the detective was seen waiting. +Garraboy rose and immediately passed into the back.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bloodgood had taken her seat apart, staring +ahead as though by a difficult process of mental +control, for at times her glance, despite the +consciousness of her husband's espionage, flashed over to +where Majendie was impatiently following the +movements of the clock.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When Garraboy's search had ended, he followed +the precedent of Slade, bowed without speaking, and +departed; while Bloodgood, guarding the same +silence, passed into the dining-room. Maud Lille +succeeded Mrs. Cheever, who returned in the same state +of agitation that she had shown from the beginning. +She started to approach her husband, when Mrs. Kildair's +controlled voice was heard:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not there, please, Mrs. Cheever. Kindly sit at +this side of the room with Mrs. Bloodgood."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cheever flushed instantly, and sank, or rather +collapsed, in the chair which had been indicated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once there came another ring, followed by +two or three impatient taps on the outer door. There +was a sudden stir in the room, where all nerves were +clearly on the edge, and Mrs. Cheever gave a little +scream.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll answer," said Cheever, rising.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait," said Mrs. Kildair. She started toward +the door, and then, changing her mind, as if unwilling +to relax her surveillance of events in the studio, +stopped. "Mr. Beecher, please," she said +thoughtfully. "See who it is." And she moved slightly +toward the half-drawn portières, to hear and at the +same time to be concealed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy was outside, a coat on his arm.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me," he said, without emotion. "I took +the wrong coat. Stupid of me. Just found it out."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks like mine," said Beecher, examining it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Probably is," said Garraboy, who extracted +another coat of similar appearance from the rack, +plunged into his pockets and nodded. "Sure enough. +Sorry. Good night."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>So thoroughly disagreeable an impression had the +broker produced upon Beecher that, in a moment of +suspicion, moved by an incredible thought, he ran +his hands hastily through the pockets.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't have been surprised," he grumbled +to himself, and returned to the studio, where the +conversation had been overheard.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The search continued, ended, and, as all expected, +no trace of the ring was found.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair excused herself, evidently maintaining +her calm with difficulty. The guests, murmuring +inarticulate phrases, took their wraps, and young +Beecher found himself shortly in a coupé beside Nan +Charters.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>For several moments neither spoke, each absorbed +in his own speculations. Beecher studied the figure +at his side with covert glances, amazed at the +transformation from the childlike charm which had first +fascinated him. An hour before he had begun to +wonder how far that feeling might develop in him; +now, as he watched her, he was conscious of a +dispassionate, almost resentful analysis. The fragrance +of her perfume, a little too overpowering, filled the +interior of the coupé. She herself, bending slightly +forward, one elbow against the window-pane, pressed +her ungloved knuckles against her chin, while her +glance, set and controlled, was lost in the cloudy +shadows and striped reflections of the street without.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What is terrible in such a situation," she said +musingly, but without turning, "is that any one may +be suspected."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The words were spoken with almost an absolute +change of personality. The very tone brought to +him an increased antagonism.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite true," he said. "You may have taken it +the first time, and I the second."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned and tried to distinguish his expression; +but, if he had hoped to startle, he was disappointed. +She said, quite possessed:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you put it that way?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I am convinced that the second time was +the deliberate action of a man, and that the first was +the impulse of a woman."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why a woman the first time?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is simply my feeling. A woman would not +calculate the chances of detection, would have kept +the ring on her person, and would have restored it. +What do you think?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly," she said, her glance returning to the +street.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But you don't agree with me," he said, leaning +a little forward.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Charters, will you allow me to ask you a +question?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What? Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you know that a woman took it the first time?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned very slowly and looked at him steadily +a moment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know," she said at last.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But you suspect," he persisted.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know, Mr. Beecher, that this is a very +strange question?" she said. "Exactly what are +you implying? Do you, by any chance, suspect me?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She said the last words gently, with a return of +the first manner which had so held him. And again, +without being able to resist, he felt the charm on his +senses. He knew absolutely nothing about her. At +times the most direct suspicions had entered his mind; +never-the-less all at once he heard himself answering:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know nothing in the world about you, Miss +Charters, but my instinct tells me that is absolutely +impossible."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Only?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Only I can not forget your agitation at certain +moments."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally; that is my temperament."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are perfectly calm now, and you were +perfectly calm at certain times tonight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned suddenly in her seat and faced him, +saying sharply:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"May I speak frankly?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I ask you to do so," she said peremptorily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I think—in fact, I am convinced—that you +suspect who took the ring in the first place."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The cab was grinding against the curb. She put +out her hand hurriedly, as if the impulse were to jump +from the carriage. But immediately she checked the +movement, and turned, saying very simply and directly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you wish to be my friend?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You know I do," he said, surprised.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, if you do, and trust me, never ask that +question again—or make the slightest reference to it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She held out her hand. He took it, but without +an answer, opened the door, saw her to her vestibule, +and returned silent and moody, turning over again +and again in his mind the sudden contradiction in her +character.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if she repels or attracts me most," he +said, tramping over the quiet pavements, which flung +back the riotous thumping of his cane. But, as he +went aimlessly along, he felt again creeping over him +the suddenness of her charm and a certain unsatisfied +restlessness to see her again, which came to him with +the faint scent of the perfume that had clung to his +coat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once he stopped.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got to get to the bottom of all this affair," +he said abruptly. "I believe she's as straight as they +make 'em; I'd wager my soul on it—but I've got to +know!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And, boarding a surface car, he returned to Rita +Kildair's.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-v"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>He had arrived at the studio building and entered +the lower vestibule before he was aware of the +lateness of the hour. He pulled out his watch, and +found that it was almost midnight.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens!" he said, taking a step back. +"I quite forgot the time." He started to go, then +turned to the switchboard. "Could I telephone up +to Mrs. Kildair's apartment?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Go right up, Mr. Beecher," said the hallboy, rising.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you certain?" he said doubtfully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure. Orders is to send up any one who calls."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A little surprised, he entered the elevator. At that +moment a ring sounded, and on the indicator the +figure 4 dropped.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's her floor now," said the boy, starting up +the elevator.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the fourth he came face to face with Garraboy, +who saw him with a start of surprise and a sudden +look of malice. The two nodded, without cordiality.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello," said Garraboy, looking at him with a +curious fixity which he remembered after. "What are +you doing here?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you?" said Beecher abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Some valuable information to volunteer?" persisted +the other, with a deliberate accent of irony.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed? Then you have come to assist in restoring +the ring," said Garraboy in a low voice; and +on his young, wrinkled face was a faint glimmer of a +smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps," said Beecher, flushing angrily. "Does +that annoy you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the least," said Garraboy drily. "On the +contrary, I am interested—exceedingly so." He +lifted his hat slightly and stepped into the elevator.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, what in the devil has he got in his mind?" +thought Beecher angrily. "And what was his idea +in coming back? Nice look he gave me. Thought +he had such an all-fired important engagement that +he had to hurry away!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He tried the door absent-mindedly, and found it +locked. A long moment after he had pressed a +second time upon the bell, the door was opened by Rita +Kildair herself, who drew back in evident astonishment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You?" she said, frowning.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was going to telephone," he said, a little +embarrassed; "but they told me downstairs to come up."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Rita," he said, with a sudden feeling +of intuition. "I know you probably think I'm a +prime representative of the pinhead family, but I'm +awfully broken up by what happened. Can't I help +out some way?"</span></p> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-63"> +<span id="look-here-rita-can-t-i-help-out-some-way"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'Look here, Rita. Can't I help you out some way?'"" src="images/img-072.jpg" /> +<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> +<span class="italics">"'Look here, Rita. Can't I help you out some way?'"</span></div> +</div> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that why you've come?" she said slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," he said, meeting her scrutiny with +a puzzled glance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She considered a moment and then said abruptly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Go in and sit down. I'm busy at the telephone. +I'll be back in a moment."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The studio was still blazing with the electric +chandeliers, the dining-table still crowded with the +untouched dinner, with that sense of desolation and +fatigue which the aftermath of a banquet presents. +Lighted up as it was, the studio had none of the +mystery that charmed—rather, something of the cruel +garishness of the white sun.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He moved about aimlessly, arms crossed, his +imagination repeopling the room with the strongly +accentuated personalities who had gathered there an +hour before, saying to himself over and over:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, why the deuce did Garraboy come back?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He approached the table and abstractedly took an +almond and began munching it. Then, perceiving +the chafing-dish, reached over, with a smile, and lifted +the cover. But, at the moment his hand was outstretched, +his eyes, obeying some mysterious instinct, +rose to a long Venetian mirror opposite. In the +clear reflection that showed the balcony of the +second floor, he distinctly beheld the head of a woman +protruding a little beyond the curtain.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce!" he said, covering the chafing-dish +with a bang. "It can't be Rita—who then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once he comprehended. If the ring had not +been found in the search, it was because it had been +concealed in the room, and the woman in the balcony +was a detective set to watch the trap—if the real +thief had the daring to return.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Rita Kildair entered from the bedroom.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens, Rita!" he said directly. "You +don't mean to say you suspect me?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" she said, stopping short, +her glance instinctively seeking the balcony.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean you've stuck a detective up there to see +what I do the moment I come into the studio. Good +heavens! what do you think I came for?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Teddy," she said, frowning at the +stupidity of her spy, "is there any one who can't be +suspected? Do you blame me?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I suppose not," he blurted out. "Only, it +gives a fellow a deuced creepy feeling to have a +couple of eyes looking through him from behind the +curtain. I say, why don't you search the place? +The ring must be here!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is possible, of course," she said thoughtfully, +her lip between her little teeth, an impulsive +movement when she was plunged in thought.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Or are you waiting for the thief to come back +here and try to recover it? Of course, that's the +plan."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There's one thing," she said, with a quick, +imperative gesture, looking at him closely, "I want +you to remember. There is nothing public to be +known. Whatever is done must be done quietly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, of course," he said hastily. "I say, Rita, +let me try to work this out with you—give me your +confidence! I wish you would."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She considered a moment, as though puzzled by his +offer.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think it will ever be found," she said, +shaking her head and looking at him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But you suspect some one," he persisted.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated a moment, and then shook her head.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The second's delay convinced him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Man or woman?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is only a speculation," she answered slowly, +"but I believe it was a woman."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Both times?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Both times."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He took a turn, moodily disturbed, and came back.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me this, Rita," he said. "Who else came +back here tonight?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy," she answered slowly, "and—Mrs. Cheever."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Cheever!" he exclaimed, astonished. +"Why, she was on the verge of prostration."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair smiled a thin, elusive smile, and was +about to reply when there came a ring at the door.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly her manner changed. Placing her finger +on her lips, at the same time sending him a glance +that commanded the utmost silence, she took his hand +and led him softly from the studio, through her +bedroom into the further obscurity of the dining-room, +which was lit only by the weak reflection which +filtered through from the hall.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit here, and not a sound," she said, placing her +lips so close to his ear that he felt the warm contact of +her cheek. She gave him a slight pressure of her +fingers, and went back into the studio by way of her +bedroom, closing both doors.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, left in the darkness, strained every nerve +to catch the sound that would reveal the identity of +the new arrival. It seemed to him that he heard the +sound of another woman's voice, and then presently, +as a shadow came to him through the twilight of the +hall, he heard Mrs. Kildair saying:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"—to telephone. Be back in a moment."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The next instant she was at his side, pressing his +hand to prevent the whisper that was on his lips. +They sat thus side by side for what seemed a full five +minutes before she rose and silently passed into the +hall again. Beecher remained in complete bewilderment, +unable to detect the slightest sound of the +conversation that was taking place. That the same test +was being applied to the new-comer which he himself +had detected, he understood; but which one of the +many guests it might be, he could not discover.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the end of an interminable interval, he heard a +few faint sounds, the closing of the outer door, and +presently the rustle of Mrs. Kildair's approach.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come now," she said, waiting for him in the hall.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who came back then?" he asked eagerly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I can not tell you—at least, not now. There +are reasons why it would not be quite fair," she said. +Then, seeing his irritation, she tapped him on the arm +and added: "Listen, Teddy. It is too late to talk +over things. Run away now. Come in tomorrow +at five."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to help, you know," he said, taking +her hand, guiltily conscious of the smile with which +she examined him—a smile that seemed to convict +him of treason. For the moment, however, the +memory of the younger woman was dimmed. He was +conscious only of the indefinite lure of mystery which +Rita Kildair always exerted over his curiosity the +moment they were alone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Rita," he said impulsively, "I should +think, in a case like this, you'd want all the help you +can get!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Her smile disappeared. She looked at him a moment +with almost a masculine penetration, and then, +her smile returning, said quietly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's curious, but each person who came back here +tonight came back just to—help."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Not only her words, but her manner, struck him +with a sense of discomfort.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in tomorrow," she said, pushing him +gently toward the door. She made a quick little +motion with her fingers, looked at him with a +penetrating seriousness, and disappeared, leaving him +thoroughly confused and irritable.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, she acts as though she suspected me!" he +said, remembering her continual examination. "Who +the deuce came back then? What's Garraboy in all +this? Does he suspect me, too, and has he been +saying anything to Rita? What is terrible in such a +situation is that any one may be suspected." Suddenly +he perceived that he had repeated the very +words that Nan Charters had used in the coupé.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, what a rotten mess! I feel like a +pickpocket already," he said, with a sudden cold +horror in his back. "Why shouldn't Rita suspect me as +well as any one else? This is no pleasure party; this +is serious—dead serious. I've got to work it out!"</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Teddy Beecher was a fair representative of +the second generation. He still retained the +rugged democracy of the father who had fought his +way to a moderate fortune in the troubled regions of +the coal-fields. To him a man was a man, whatever +the quality of his coat. Left an orphan at fourteen, +he had passed victoriously through boarding-school +and college without seriously troubling the peace of +mind of those who were competing for scholarship +honors. He was liked because he liked every one, +not with a politic assumption, but from a veritable +enjoyment of life and men.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>After graduation, he had gone West on a ranch +with several of his classmates, for the pure love of +adventure and the delights of the great open spaces. +Having thus begun his education, he continued it by +knocking about the world, with periodic excursions +in search of big game. He had known a great many +types of men without knowing them in the least, and +he appealed to all women without being deeply +impressionable to their influence. His philosophy of life +was very well summed up in a remark he had made +on his return to New York—that he would probably +go to work if he couldn't find anything better to do.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When he awoke the day after Rita Kildair's party, +it was with the clear and dispassionate vision of the +morning. The dramatic occurrences of the night +before flashed instantly into his consciousness, +arousing all the energy of his young curiosity. He +recalled the promise to solve the mystery he had made +in a moment of enthusiasm, and with a renewed zest +began to consider how he should prove himself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Several things immediately rose up to perplex him +in the strange and dramatic climaxes at which he had +assisted—the twisted undercurrents of which he was +still completely ignorant. Why had Garraboy, and +then Rita Kildair, adopted an attitude of suspicion +toward him when he had returned? For Garraboy's +hostility he found a ready answer in the mutual +antagonism that had risen from the first exchange of +glances; but the reception he had received at the +hands of Mrs. Kildair thoroughly mystified him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, if the ring wasn't found in the search," +he said, getting out of bed and ringing for his man, +"it's got to be in the studio; of course—no way +around that. Whoever took it the second time didn't +get much opportunity to hide it, either—unless it +was hidden after the candle was lit; there was a +chance then—every one was stumbling around. +By Jove! I believe that's how it was done. But +then, why the deuce should more than one person +return?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped and suddenly remembered his own return.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's so; a man might come back to offer help. +But why a woman? And who the deuce came back +after I did—Miss Lille or Mrs. Bloodgood?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the door opened on Charles, whom +he had inherited with one half of the luxurious +apartment from Freddie Duyckerman, who had gone to +England for the hunting season.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your bath is ready, sir," he said, standing with +that perfectly vacuous expression which had been +carefully trained to express neither joy, grief, +hilarity, nor the natural surprise which he might have +experienced at beholding his master, brush in hand, +standing absent-mindedly before a great copper +platter that was near the window.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Telephone up to the stables; I'll take Judy +to-day," said Beecher, passing into the bathroom.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A touch of the cold shower set his nerves to +tingling and sent his mind to recalling pleasantly the +pretty faces of the evening before, after the manner +of young gentlemen of leisure with a proper share +of vanity. Two figures rose immediately—Rita +Kildair and Nan Charters. He remembered them +both without excitement, but with different emotions.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, Rita's a thoroughbred," he said. +"She has them all beat—mysterious as a sphinx. +Prettiest sight in the world, seeing her manipulate a +crowd. Jove, but she has nerve!" Then he reflected +a little guiltily that he had rather deserted her +for other shrines, and he resolved enthusiastically to +make amends by throwing himself, heart and soul, +into the recovery of the ring.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, it's something to have the confidence +of a woman like that!" he exclaimed, sublimely +fatuous. "That old mammoth of a Slade would give ten +years of his life, I'll bet, to stand where I do with +her."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Then he remembered Nan Charters, with a little +movement of impatience at the thought of his +sentimentality.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce got into me last night?" he said, +displeased with himself. "I acted like a school-boy. +I suppose she thinks she's got me on her scalp-belt—easy +as a stage-door Johnny. What the deuce got +me wabbling so? These actresses are full of tricky +stuff."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He resolved that he would show her his complete +indifference by not calling for at least a week, maybe +two, and concluded, with profound penetration:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good game. She'll remember how I started in, +and wonder what changed me. That's it—keep 'em +guessing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He went into the dining-room, where the coffee +was boiling in the percolator, and sat down, after +assuring himself by a trip to the opposite bedroom that +Bo Lynch was still sleeping the profound sleep of the +unjust..</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But hardly had he begun on the iced grape-fruit +when a lank figure in peppermint pajamas appeared at +the doorway, brushing from his sleep-laden eyes the +long wisps of hair which, carefully treasured to +conceal the bare upper regions, now hung about his +sharp, supercilious nose.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why the devil don't you breakfast with a chap?" +he said, emerging.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Bo," said Beecher pleasantly. "Up till +four or five, training for your polo match this +afternoon?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Fontaine was there; we call it pairing off."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Auction?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, damn it. I cut that little wild ass of a +Plunket six times running. He'd gamble away his +grandmother on a couple of aces. I say, Teddy," +he continued, with a little more animation, emptying +a bottle of mineral water which Charles, knowing +what might be termed the regularity of his habits, +had set out for him, "do you ever try a flier in the +market?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been such a fool."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here; I've got a sure thing. Eddie Fontaine +gave it to us last night—in dead secrecy, of +course. Worried it from the old man, and you know +old man Fontaine is the real thing. The whole +Atlantic Trust business was patched up at a conference +yesterday afternoon. Majendie's to get all the +backing he needs."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what of that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you ignoramus, that means the banks have +let up on the trust companies and are coming to the +support of the market. Everything's 'way down +below where it ought to be. Stocks'll go up twenty +points in two weeks. I've taken another thousand +of Northern Pacific myself. Better get in on it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks; I'll circulate my money on a +horse-race—something I know about. By the way, Majendie +was there last night."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He was, was he?" said Lynch, with more animation. +"How did he seem?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Cool as a cucumber," said Beecher, who, however, +was surprised to find how little he remembered +of any one else's conduct. "I was in at one of +Mrs. Kildair's affairs. By the way, Nan Charters was +there."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, was she?" said Lynch sleepily, hesitating +between the call of his bedroom and the cooling +aspect of the waiting grape-fruit.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Know anything about her?" asked Beecher, +perceiving he would gain nothing by indirection.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Never met her," said Lynch. "Charlie Lorraine +was crazy about her a couple of years ago. We +thought he was going to marry her. I believe they +were engaged, or had an understanding."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No scandal?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she's perfectly straight. Charlie's a good +proposition, but that didn't seem to hurry her any. +She has a lot of 'em buzzing after her."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Bo," said Beecher suddenly, "did you +ever run up against a fellow called Garraboy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's he do?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a broker."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Lynch reflected, yawning behind his hand. His +occupation in life was supposed to be stocks and +bonds, according to the city register.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nope, never heard of the fellow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who'd know at the club?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ask Jack Lindabury or Tom Bovee. Well, ta-ta; +I'm going to sleep out a bit for the match. Tell +Charles to default me to the manicure and the +scalpist," said Lynch, who termed thus the prim, +middle-aged person who had guaranteed to preserve his +numbered hairs. "By the way, how about a little bet on +the match? I'll give you six to five."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Done for fifty," said Beecher obligingly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"See you at luncheon," said Lynch, who was soon +heard plunging heavily into bed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher belonged, without yet being one of them, +to that set who live what in England is called a +gentleman's life—racing, hunting, playing polo, +seeking the sensations of big game or big fish, rather +courting danger, drinking hard as a matter of pride, +on the theory of the survival of the fittest, consuming +the night in battles of cunning and physical endurance +at the card-table. Beecher had returned to this +society partly because most of his friends "belonged," +partly because, being an idler himself, he liked their +busy days dedicated to sensation, and their curious +standards of what was and what was not permitted to +be done. He had not as yet plunged into the whirl, +being more curiously interested in the various sides +of New York life that opened before him. He +preserved, in the midst of the nervous American excess +of his companion, a certain old-world moderation. +He entered their card games in a desultory way for +an hour or two at a time, but without that engulfing, +brutal passion for mastery which kept Bo Lynch at +the card-tables until dawn. When he joined a group +at the bar, he drank with them as long as he wished +and no longer—a difficult matter where a +withdrawal usually was greeted with taunts; but there +was about Beecher, young as he was, an atmosphere +of authority which came from having proved himself +among men the world over.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was rising from the table when the telephone +rang, and, mindful of his afternoon engagement with +Rita Kildair, he refused an invitation to join a party +to the polo match. A call from Bruce Gunther +urged him to be one of a gay party of six, bent on a +lark for the evening.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He enjoyed a furious gallop in the park, dressed, +and swung alertly up the Avenue to his club for +luncheon.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>There, all the talk was of the stock market which +had gone up several points on the morning's +tradings. Bo Lynch and Eddie Fontaine buttonholed +him and besought him to avail himself of the opportunity: +it was the chance of a lifetime, the crisis was +over, stocks simply had to go up. The friends of +Majendie, who was one of the directors of the club, +were relieved and jubilant. He had weathered the +crisis; there was nothing more to fear. The story +which was told from lip to lip as being direct from +headquarters was, that at the meeting on the +afternoon before, Fontaine had declared, with his fist on +the table, that he would never be a party to any +movement that would jeopardize the future of his lifelong +friend, Bernard Majendie. Some who still clung to +the short interest even added, with an air of +knowing more than they could tell, that the attack would +now be concentrated on the Associated Trust with +the intention of making an example of John Slade, +a Western intruder who was protected by no ties of +association and friendship.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, true to his habits of caution, laughingly +refused all offers to double his fortune. Bruce +Gunther drew him aside, outlining his program for the +evening.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The thought of Nan Charters came into Beecher's +mind, and he wondered curiously if she would be +there.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Bruce, what's all this hip-hurrah?" he +asked as Gunther led him to the dining-room and +they took seats at the long mahogany table. "Has +Majendie really pulled through? Is the story true +about Fontaine? Would you go into the market?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They tell it on Fontaine now, do they?" said +Gunther, with a short laugh. "It started with my +old man, but I guess he was too tough a weight to +carry. Ted, I don't know any more than you, but +I know this—keep out."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My opinion," said Beecher, nodding to a new +arrival.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Bruce Gunther was his closest friend—a chum +from boarding-school days. He was a stocky, rather +ugly type, direct to the point of rudeness, with more +than a trace of his father's power. Gunther Senior +had, from a long and merciless examination of men, +come to regard youth as a natural malady, an +ebullition of heated blood to be lived down before a man +was fit for great opportunities and the vision of great +affairs. When young Gunther was graduated, he +called him to his desk, wrote him out a check, and +told him to take five years, sow his oats, and be +through with it—at the end of which time his +career would begin at the bottom of the great +banking offices of Gunther & Company, New York, +London, and Paris. Young Gunther was now completing +the last year of his contract with a compressed +savageness that would have wrecked any but the +strongest constitution. At heart he awaited the end +of his holiday with a feeling of relief and enthusiasm. +He was quite unspoiled, and a terror to sycophants +and boot-lickers. It was these sturdy, passionate +qualities of energy and directness in him that had +attracted Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bruce, I'm on a very curious chase," he said, +pushing back from the table, "and I want your help. +It's too long and too confidential to tell you now. +But two things I wish you would do for me: find +out all you can quietly about two men—Enos +Bloodgood and a fellow called Garraboy, a broker."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy—the brother-in-law?" said Gunther +instantly. They left the table and went for cigars +and coffee to the first room, to a window that gave +on the Avenue. "I know him. He was blackballed +here a couple of years ago. There were some +ugly stories about him; I'll look 'em up. Bloodgood's +another matter. I have heard rumors he was +hard hit by the market. It's easy enough; I know +several men I can call up. Can't you tell me the +whole thing now?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When Beecher had finished, Gunther remained a +long moment immersed in reflection.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By the Lord Harry, that is a problem," he said, +suddenly waking up. "The dickens of a tangle! +What the deuce was Slade doing there?" He +relapsed into silence again, and as suddenly said +decisively: "You're wrong on one point, Ted. It's +not Garraboy or Bloodgood we ought to suspect first; +it's Cheever—the Cheevers."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How the deuce are we going about it?" said Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose Mrs. Kildair wants the whole thing +kept quiet," said Gunther, rapping absent-mindedly +on the arm of his chair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally; besides, I promised."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course. Well, we'll begin in a practical +fashion. You don't mind spending a little money, do +you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I expect to."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther rose and went to the telephone booths, +where he remained for some time.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Half-past six in my rooms, Ted," he said, +returning. "I'll put you up against the most +interesting character in the United States—a real +detective. Dress and come over."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But the girls," objected Beecher, remembering +their engagement.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The girls can go hang," said Gunther, shrugging +his shoulders. "They can always wait half an hour. +This is something real."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At five o'clock Beecher called on Mrs. Kildair, and +found her out, to his considerable vexation. The +bell-boy gave him a little note, which he opened and +read:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR TEDDY:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Forgive my breaking my engagement. All sorts of +sudden and exciting things have crowded in on me to-day. +Come to-morrow for luncheon.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>RITA.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. Remember—nothing public about last night!</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The prospect of a tête-à-tête with Mrs. Kildair +appeased him somewhat, but his anticipations for the +afternoon were sorely disappointed, and he started +aimlessly back, with a feeling that a great hole had +been made in the day. As he reached the corner, +a red automobile cut in close to the curb, causing him +to step hastily back. Inside he recognized Slade. +He watched the red machine come to a stop before +Mrs. Kildair's and then whirl away, after depositing +the massive figure of its owner. Beecher, with a +little wounded vanity, lingered a moment, hoping to +see him reappear; but, as the sidewalk continued +empty, he was forced to conclude that he had come +by appointment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She might at least have seen me," he said +angrily. "What the deuce has she got to see Slade for?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once he perceived that his steps had led him +in the general direction of the quarter in which Nan +Charters resided, and, as he had come to make an +impression on one woman, he soon began to +consider transferring his attack on another. Only, he +remembered that he had determined to treat Miss +Charters with indifference, to correct any erroneous +ideas that she might have formed from his previous +impulsive conduct.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's so," he said, angry now at himself, at +her, and at a condition of affairs that left him with +an hour of idleness on his hands. "If I call now, +she'll think I'm hot on the trail. I could stop, +though, and inquire about her health," he thought, +hesitating; "that would seem natural, after last night."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But he rejected this as a subterfuge, and continued +his slow, uneven progress down Seventh Avenue, +which he had selected at random in search of a little +oddity and interest; and gradually he recognized that +the vexation he felt was, in reality, not at being +unable to find an excuse for calling on Miss Charters, +but the keen sense of disappointment he had in +missing an intimate hour with Rita.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>It was essentially the woman of the world in her +that fascinated him, the woman of mysterious +experience, of sure knowledge and complete command +of situations. He wished to increase the intimacy of +his position, because to be favored by her meant +something—something that awoke his masculine +sense of supremacy and fed his vanity. Determined +on a long bachelorhood that would open to him all +sorts and conditions of society and adventurous +experiences, he had determined likewise to avoid the +dangerous field of young girls of his own set and to +exercise his curiosity with women of the world—older +women, professional women, with whom an impulsive +infatuation brought no risks, but something +to be taken at value, a mood that was charming +because it would pass.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once an idea came to him that reconciled +his easily satisfied conscience and appeared sublimely +politic. He would drop in on Nan Charters, just to +show his indifference.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll stay fifteen minutes—be quite formal and +a little bored," he said, chuckling.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And he went without too much enthusiasm toward +his destination, thinking of Rita Kildair and +planning in his imaginative mind a series of +confidential conversations for the tête-à-tête on the +morrow.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"To see Miss Charters," he said, giving his card +to the boy in the elevator, who turned it over +doubtfully, hesitated, and disappeared like a float in an +opera, mounting heavenward.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher ceased to think of Rita Kildair, and +prepared himself, smiling astutely, for his approaching +scene with the young actress whom he intended properly +to discipline for her effrontery in imagining that +he—Edward T. Beecher—had entertained for a +moment any other than a polite social interest. Miss +Charters excused herself—she was lying down and +dining out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He cast a furious look at the telephone-booth, by +means of which she might personally have assured +him of her great regret, and stalked out in a worse +temper than ever—Rita Kildair, Nan Charters, all +the women in the world consigned to perdition.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound them all!" he said, brandishing his +cane. "What a lot of time a man wastes over them. +She might have telephoned me. They only exist in +this world to distract us from what we ought to do. +I wonder if she did it on purpose—just to give me +an appetite. Well, if she did—she's succeeded," +he said ruefully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He went to his rooms, resolved to meet her at +every opportunity, to revenge himself by showing +her he could play the game more cleverly than she +could; and in his angry resolve there was very little +trace of the indifference of which he had been so +confident.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Gunther had a suite in one of the newer +hotels that tower over the eastern entrance to +the park. When Beecher arrived, a quiet, powerfully +built man was standing in front of the fireplace, +smoking with enjoyment. Beecher recognized +immediately Cyrus McKenna, formerly of the United +States Secret Service, founder of the great detective +agency that bore his name.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ted, shake hands with my good friend Mr. McKenna," +said Gunther, appearing in the doorway +with a refractory collar in his grasp. "McKenna, +shake hands with Mr. Beecher. Fire away, Ted. +I'll be out in a second."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to know you," said McKenna, grasping his +hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher was aware of the quick, estimating +scrutiny and a sense of unusual physical vitality. +But he was disappointed in his first glance at this +man whose investigations had been the terror of +corrupt politicians and unscrupulous agitators. +McKenna was physically the ideal detective, in that not +a feature possessed a trace of oddity which could +betray him to the public, in which he thus mingled +without fear of recognition. He was neither short +nor tall, neither thin nor unusually heavy. His head +was round, well-spaced, and evenly formed, without +affectation of mystery or astuteness, lit up by a jovial +good humor when animated, and quite blank and +indecipherable when in repose. The eyes alone, like +the eyes of a painter or a sculptor seeking tones or +modelings that escape the common glance, were +noticeable for a certain quality of penetration, +expressed in the countenance by innumerable fine lines +that gathered in the eye-pits.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. McKenna," said Beecher, who had an +instinctive desire to impress the detective with the +lucidity of his observations, "I will give you quickly +the details that are important. First, here is the plan +of the apartment, which may or may not be of use."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He went to the low table-desk at the side, and +drew out paper and pencil. McKenna brought up +a chair at his side, and Gunther, coming in, sat down +opposite.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It concerns the theft of a ruby ring worth over +fifteen thousand dollars," said Beecher, busy with his +pencil, "taken last night, between eight and eleven, +at the apartment of Mrs. Rita Kildair. The +circumstances are so extraordinary that you will be +interested in the problem itself."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The detective smiled in a slightly amused way and +asked:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I retained in her interest or in yours?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In mine," said Beecher quickly. "The theft took +place at a social gathering, you understand, and in +the party were persons well known in New York +society. Mrs. Kildair, as is natural, particularly +desires that nothing shall become public."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Does she know that you intend to consult me?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No—and I am not sure I wish her to know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is she employing detectives?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Whom did the ring belong to?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"To Mrs. Kildair," said Beecher, annoyed that +he had forgotten this rather important detail.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me see the plan," said McKenna, who +glanced at it a moment and nodded. "Now go on."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There were eleven persons present, including +Mrs. Kildair," said Beecher, after a moment's pause. +McKenna took the pencil and prepared to inscribe +the list. "Myself, Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Cheever—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I can give you a pointer on them," said Gunther, +speaking for the first time.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Unnecessary," said McKenna. "I know the +card episode."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. and Mrs. Bloodgood."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bloodgood—yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Garraboy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Joseph L. or Edward C., the broker?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The broker. Miss Nan Charters."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The actress—yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Maud Lille."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Know anything about her?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She's a journalist; writes books too, I believe."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bernard L. Majendie and John Slade."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The detective raised his eyebrows in surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They were there—together?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They came separately. Slade joined the party +at the last moment; he was not expected."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A very interesting crowd," said the detective +slowly, studying the list. "What servants?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"None."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are sure?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair has only two, a Japanese butler and +a lady's maid, both of whom were out."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are positive?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Absolutely. The occasion was an informal supper. +Mrs. Kildair, while preparing the dishes, placed +her three rings on the pin-cushion of her +dressing-table—at this point here on the plans—fastening +them with a hatpin. The table, as you see, can be +easily seen both from the studio and the dining-room."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What were the circumstances of her placing the +rings on the pin-cushion? First, when did it occur? +After all the guests had arrived?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Beecher, who immediately corrected +himself. "No, I'm wrong; Slade arrived later. +But, as I say, he was a surprise. Majendie was the +last of the invited party to come. Immediately +afterward Mrs. Kildair went into her bedroom to +put on an apron and take off her rings."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was in the room?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Cheever, Miss Lille, and Garraboy," said +Beecher slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They saw her take off the ring?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; they even announced it later."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Was there much passing to and fro?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"All the time. I am quite sure every one was in +the room several times."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did any one use the hall?" said the detective, +indicating it on the plan. "I see it opens into the +dining-room also."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite a number," said Beecher. "I remember +using it myself. We were all going and coming, +carrying dishes, glasses, bottles, provisions."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"One question: did you notice the ring on the +pin-cushion yourself?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I distinctly remember seeing two or three +rings, I don't remember which."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"After about three quarters of an hour of preparation, +we took our places at the table, with the +exception of Mrs. Kildair, who was still moving +about us. It was then that Slade came in, was +introduced, and took his place."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He did not pass into the bedroom, then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Mrs. Kildair went in immediately, took +off her apron, and discovered the loss of the ruby +ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, without further interruptions from McKenna, +recounted in detail the return of Mrs. Kildair, +the locking of the doors, the extinguishing of the +lights, the announcement of the theft, the beginning +of the counting, the sound of the ring on the table, +and the discovery of its second disappearance. +Then he stopped, awaiting the questioning of the +detective.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No; go right on," said McKenna, with a little +gesture of his pencil that dotted an imaginary </span><em class="italics">i</em><span>.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher continued, describing the lighting of the +lights, the confusion in the room, the sending for +the detectives, the discussion as to the order of +search, and the failure to recover the ring. Omitting +his personal observations of Miss Charters and +their conversation in the cab, he recounted his return +to Mrs. Kildair's, his meeting with Garraboy, the +discovery of the detective, the strangeness of +Mrs. Kildair's attitude, and her concealment of the identity +of the next visitor. He concluded, and both young +men looked at the detective as if they expected him +to solve the problem on the instant—an attitude that +was not lost on McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you young men believe every word +that has been written on deduction," he said, +grinning and biting off the end of another cigar. +"Presume you've already determined that a woman took +the ring, and lacked the nerve to face the risk—that +the strong, daring nature of a man seized the +opportunity the second time, and, because Slade and +Majendie are millionaires and Bloodgood the +respectable owner of a newspaper, the thief is either +Garraboy, a gambler in stocks, or Cheever, with an +ugly reputation."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The two young men smiled guiltily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I say, McKenna, you don't reject deduction +entirely," said Gunther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, I believe in 'deduction forward,'" said +McKenna, laughing. "If I know there's a thief in +the company, I deduce he'll steal if he gets the chance. +Now, before I put a few more questions to you, let +me tell you this. My business isn't in deducing how +the theft was done (I get my man and sweat him +out; he'll tell me that), but who did it; and for that +it don't take any deduction, either. Give me time, +money, and no strings on me, there isn't any crime +can't be worked out."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But how the deuce are you going to locate a +ring," said Beecher, "if you don't know whom to +follow?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The ring's the easiest part," said the detective. +"You may not know it, but every stone of great +value is what's called a named stone; every jeweler +knows of it. Now, there aren't many rubies worth +over fifteen thousand floating around. If you don't +believe it, I'll show you how easy it's done. Inside +a week I'll give you the history of the stone and just +how it came into the hands of Mrs. Kildair."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean no one can dispose of it to a jeweler +without its being recognized?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless he's done it within these twenty-four +hours, which is quite probable if a certain suspicion +of mine isn't far wrong."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Deduction," said Gunther, laughing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not entirely; and, besides, that's not quite fair. +It just happens that I may be interested in a couple +of persons in your party from another tack. No, +gentlemen; deduction's all right, if it's honest +deduction and if you use it in its place; but the great +thing's motive. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, +get down to your motives and you get your criminals. +Show me the person who needed to steal that ring, +or who just simply had to steal it, and you've got +your man."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But suppose that applies to two persons there, +or even three," said Gunther, who perceived that the +detective did not intend to commit himself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Or it may be the hysterical act of a woman who +will never attempt to sell the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Possible—more than possible."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And then it will never be found."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But you don't think that's the case," said +Gunther. "And you have an opinion."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna gave him a quick look of appreciation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right; but it's not who took it, but why +it was taken. In forty-eight hours I'll know a little +bit more about the habits of the ladies and gentlemen +we're dealing with, and then I'll be more +communicative." He paused, with a little pardonable +pleasure in the mystification he was preparing, and +added: "In forty-eight hours I'll give you a little +story about each of the persons who were at that +party which'll beat anything in the story-telling line +you ever came up against. Now, Mr. Beecher, +before we get down to questions, here's one thing I +want you to do. Find out from Mrs. Kildair what's +her detective agency. Say you've a friend who's +trying to track a valet for stealing and want a good +address—see?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not going to shadow the detectives?" +said Gunther curiously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You bet I am, till I know more about them," said +McKenna. "Young man, I can tell you more than +twenty cases I've been on where the detective who +was called in to make a search went cahoots with the +thief."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Detectives!" said Beecher, amazed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You bet. I don't trust my own, when I've got +anything that's got to be done right. I don't trust +any one man; I put two on it. My dear fellow, the +crooks that pick your pocket or break into your +house are only amateurs. The real criminal, the +criminal of brains, joins a police force, becomes a +detective, a clerk, goes slowly, gets to be a cashier +or president of a bank. You think I'm joking. +Not at all. Look here; just stop and think it over, +and you won't laugh. For every bank president who +takes the funds of his bank, speculates, and </span><em class="italics">loses</em><span>, +how many do you think win out and never get caught?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's so," said Gunther thoughtfully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's too big a subject," said McKenna, smiling. +"I shake hands every day with gentlemen who ought +to be breaking rocks. Now, let's get back to +business. Mr. Beecher, what did you notice of any +kind last night that would make you suspect any +one? I don't mean opinions, but eyes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher hesitated an interval that did not escape +the notice of the detective.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," he said at last, unwilling to mention +the name of Nan Charters. He added, to cover the +hesitation: "I suspected Garraboy, but I admit +there's no proof—personal dislike."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you dislike him?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher shrugged his shoulder and his glance went +to one side.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Gunther, will you get me my office?" said +McKenna, suddenly looking at his watch. "You +know the number."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther disappeared in the hall in search of the +telephone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mr. Beecher," said McKenna, smiling, +"I'm like a doctor, you know. There's no use calling +me in unless you give me all the facts. What's +the name of the lady who excited your suspicion, +whom Mr. Garraboy was so attentive to, and on +account of whom, I rather guess, you got interested +in this case?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The startled look Beecher gave him amply gratified +McKenna, who continued:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's Miss Charters' position in this business?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher admitted the correctness of the surmise +with a laugh, and, Gunther being absent, quickly +recounted the different moments of Nan Charters' +agitation and the conversation in the cab.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Gunther returned. "I say, +McKenna," he said, "some one's trying to get you on +the wire."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna passed to the telephone, and almost +immediately returned.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, gentlemen," he said, "if you want to +try your hand at deduction, here's something to work +on. The Clearing-house has just refused to clear +for the Atlantic Trust, Majendie's resignation has +been accepted, and tomorrow there'll be a run on +every bank in the city—and God help those who're +caught in the stock market!"</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-viii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The two young men and McKenna descended +by the elevator into the lobby of the hotel. The +news of the Clearing-house's drastic action against +the Atlantic Trust was already in the scare-heads of +the evening papers, though Majendie's resignation +was still unknown. The halls were crowded with a +fleet of newspapers, spread out, fluttering feverishly. +Everywhere was a suppressed murmur and nervous +tension, which occasionally exploded in exclamations +when acquaintances met. The news was indeed +staggering to the little man of the Street; the great +Atlantic Trust with its hundreds of millions of +deposits was on the verge of collapse and this at the +end of a period of depression and alarm!</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As they proceeded toward the carriage entrance, +Gunther stopped to speak to one of the clerks at +the desk, who, with a frightened face, came out to +seek his advice. McKenna profited by the moment +to say to Beecher:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way, if you're a friend of Miss Charters', +find out if she has any money invested in Wall Street, +and who she's dealing through."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Does it mean a panic?" said Beecher, surprised. +"Do you mean she ought to get out?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Too late," said McKenna. "Find out what I +asked you. I'm in a hurry. Say good-night to +Mr. Gunther for me. And, say, if you're so interested +in this case, get him to put you wise to Majendie +and Mrs. Bloodgood."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He gave a quick nod, and mingled in the crowd +about the north entrance. Beecher watched him +with a feeling of disillusionment. The detective had +expressed no opinion, had brought to bear on the +problem none of the instantaneous analysis which he +had expected; in fact, had deliberately avoided even +a discussion of the natural probabilities. Had this +complete reticence been associated with an individuality +of impressive oddity, he would have perhaps regarded +it with respect. As it was, he was conscious +only of being defrauded as though some one were +tearing away a precious illusion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a poor devil; got all his money tied up +in the Atlantic Trust," said Gunther, joining him +and passing out to the waiting automobile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The Atlantic Trust can't fail," said Beecher, +amazed. "Things aren't as bad as that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know. Lots of queer things have been +worked lately. Anyhow, what's bound to happen +is—I should say—a receivership and closed doors +to-morrow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But that means panic."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher was silent a while. He thought of +Majendie of the night before, correct, restrained, +prodigal of small courtesies.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, how game he was!" he said aloud. +"I should hate to think there was anything crooked +in him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They had reached Forty-second Street in their +smooth and rapid flight. There, newsboys were +shrieking the latest extra, dodging under the heads +of horses, swinging on the steps of surface-cars, +bumping their shrill way through the crowd, with +their hysterical instinct for heightening the effect of +a sensation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther stopped the automobile and bought a +handful of papers which a dozen urchins fought to +press into his hands. On every sheet, front page, +accompanied by sudden scare-heads, was the +photograph of Bernard L. Majendie, whose resignation +had been demanded and accepted.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The two scanned the pages for additional details. +Some papers hinted at criminal actions—the +district attorney had been suddenly summoned to town. +Scattered through the sheets were photographs +entitled, "Majendie's Palace on Fifth Avenue." +"$100,000 Yacht of Deposed President." "Newport +Estate of Millionaire."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he a crook after all?" said Beecher, flinging +down the extra.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he is not a crook," said Gunther quietly, +repeating the words with slow emphasis. "He is a +speculator, a great speculator, and he has been made +the victim of greater speculators who covet his +territory. Then, there is this to be said: I doubt if at +the present moment any great public corporation +would face an investigation without alarm."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" said Beecher, with his +thoughts still wandering back to the handsome, stoic +features of the Majendie of the night before.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther began to speak, and, as he became serious +and animated, Beecher followed him with surprise, +noting the vigor and vitality that transformed the +young idler.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The present era we are passing through," said +Gunther, "is probably America at its worst. We +see only the gorgeous façades of things: the +skyscraper, the industries that have developed into little +kingdoms. We only try to comprehend statistics, +and we are satisfied that we have bounded into +greatness. As a matter of fact, the true test of the +industrial greatness of a country is honesty. +Dishonesty and graft are economic weakness—waste. +A railroad that is spending a million a year to fight +off hold-up state laws is by so much handicapped +in its function of promoting commerce by low freight +rates. A corporation that secures its franchise by +bribing aldermen has taught them to blackmail in +the future. It is difficult to say where the +responsibility began—whether capital corrupted politics, +or whether, in our unscientific political system, +corruption was not inevitable."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At this time, when our political history is one of +business development, we are over-burdened with +useless offices. Aldermen and legislators who +receive on an average less than a thousand a year—often +less than it costs to be elected—are suddenly +intrusted with the responsibilities of laws and +franchises involving millions. When you ask yourself +how a man is to continue a political career, support +a family, and fight a costly fight for reelection on a +thousand a year, the wonder is that any remain +honest. We have not the slightest conception of values +in America; the worst paid professions are those the +vigor of the nation depends on most—the minister, +the teacher, and the legislator. There are ministers +living on five hundred a year, teachers on six hundred, +legislators on less, while the carpenter or plumber +who doesn't make at least $5 a day is unorganized." Then, +perceiving that he had wandered from +his subject, he added: "You see, Ted, this state of +affairs results: politics becomes the business of +business. Industry is at the mercy of the legislator, and +the legislator knows it. He may restrict the field of +business of insurance companies, prohibit others +from operating in his state, add or detract from the +wealth of individuals by tariffs, force the adoption +of certain building material on contractors, regulate +rates of railroads and force them to adopt certain +life-preserving devices; can create rival franchises or +tax out of existence corporations that refuse to pay +its blackmail.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is why there are, back in the secret life of +every great business, ledgers it is not good the +public should see. That is one reason why business goes +into politics, nominates its men, and assists them—in +order to protect itself against strikes and blackmail. +The great political alliance of business is almost +always expressed by the railroad which is the +natural agent. All this is known; every newspaper +that will shriek out horrified editorials next week +knows this; but when the Atlantic Trust is caught +in a business depression, and is unable to get ready +money from influences it has antagonized, the +public will learn only that one institution has secretly +contributed to a political party, maintained a huge +fund for lobbying purposes, made loans on securities +that were speculative, and transgressed the letter of +the law. The public will be indignant, and Majendie +will be disgraced."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Bruce," said Beecher, who was thinking of +the analysis that had been made, "if we are so +riddled with corruption, where is it all going to end?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The end will come in the opening of another +phase of national life. We will become honest +through the purifying process of another generation. +Honesty, you see, has this one great advantage over +corruption—it is the goal of corruption. Those +who acquire, wish to retain, to resist those who in +turn wish to graft from them. Stealing was an +attribute of distinction, until men came to live together. +The next generation will purify and reorganize."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know you'd gone into things so deeply," +said Beecher, impressed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I've worked like a pup since I started to amuse +myself," said Gunther, with a laugh.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The automobile drew up before the glittering +doors of Lazare's, and a gilded footman, recognizing +it, flashed obsequiously to their door.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, let's cut this out," said Gunther, frowning. +"I'm out of the mood now. Let's run off for a +chop and a baked potato somewhere. I'm tired of this."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Too late," said Beecher, laughing and pointing +to an upper window where a feminine arm was +waving frantically. "We're caught." Then, suddenly +he remembered the hint of McKenna's, and added: +"I say, what's the story about Majendie and +Mrs. Bloodgood? I'm not up on the gossip, you know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther signaled impatiently to the flunky to close +the door, and related, what every one knew, the +attachment of the financier and the wife of the owner +of the New York </span><em class="italics">Star</em><span>.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, every one believes what he chooses +in such matters," he said. "Personally, knowing +Majendie, I believe it's purely platonic—such things +do happen. He has a sort of old-fashioned chivalry, +you know. Bloodgood is a hard old nut, leads his +own life—chorus girls' friend and all that—thirty +years older than his wife—parents got her into +it—and I shouldn't be surprised if he took +advantage of the situation to touch up Majendie through +the Atlantic Trust for a good-sized loan. The +rumor was that Mrs. Bloodgood was to get a divorce. +If so, it may have been held up by this rotten +business. One thing's clear: she's crazy about Majendie, +and doesn't care who sees it—poor devil. Well, +let's get out."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They entered Lazare's, saluted by a sudden storm +of clatter, music, and shrill laughter. Lazare +himself, seeing Gunther, came up hurriedly, anxiety in +his olive face, while several employees hovered near, +with eager ears. Gunther exchanged again a few +words on the financial situation, and led the way into +the elevator.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna's a great one," he said. "Rather +puzzled you, didn't he? There's no show about +him—he's direct. You'll see the way he works. It'll +be a revelation."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher did not answer.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The disclosure of the relations of Majendie and +Mrs. Bloodgood had suddenly recalled the suspicion +that had come to him the night before, while +following the agitation of Nan Charters; and he was +asking himself, in a bewildered manner, if +Mrs. Bloodgood, desperate, perhaps on the verge of a +separation, had not in an uncontrollable moment +taken the ring. Gunther continued in praise of +McKenna:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the organization that's wonderful. It's like +a spider-web, and McKenna sits in the center and +pulls the threads. What the public never gets is +this—that half of the work's done before McKenna's +on the case. He knows to-day where every +forger is living, every cracksman. He's got his +informers in every saloon, in every cheap hotel, where +thugs congregate. If a bank's robbed, nine times out +of ten he can tell in a day who's done the job, +because he knows who's disappeared from his regular +haunts. A detective agency is a great news bureau +that never prints its news."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess the case is more complicated than I +thought," said Beecher, struck by the new lead. "It +begins to look as though a whole lot of persons might +have taken the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thinking of Mrs. B?" said Gunther quickly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Beecher meditatively. They were in +the corridor leading to the private dining-rooms. +He put his hand out and checked his companion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, who's Madame Fornez?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Opera squealer," said Gunther irreverently; +"Carmen and all that sort of thing. Bob Holliday's +daffy about her. Come on; let's face the music."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded to the attendant waiting with extended +ears, who now sprang forward to open the door on +the flaring room and the dazzling white of the richly +covered table set for five.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Holliday and two women in décolleté instantly +burst into exclamations of reproach.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry; couldn't be helped—business," said +Gunther, without taking the pains for a more +elaborate apology. Then, sure of his explanation, he +added: "You probably missed it. Poor old Majendie's +up the spout. Forced resignation. There'll be +the devil to pay to-morrow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The reproaches ceased, succeeded by a rush of +excited questions. Holliday, a tall, scoured blond, +who had been drumming at the piano, was so disturbed +by the news that he forgot his duties as a host.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Allons</em><span>, Bobbie," said Mme. Fornez, turning her +great Spanish eyes on Beecher with an expression +of approval, "introduce your nice-looking friend."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, amid laughter, was presented. Mme. Fornez, +who, from pride perhaps, chose to retain +the freedom of the peasant, tapped him familiarly on +the arm and said: "I like you. You don't look so +clean and stupid as most of your dollar men. You +will sit by my side. I select you. Monsieur +Gunthère, Bobbie—enough of your old panics and your +stocks; you have two charming ladies present, that's +all you need to know. Bobbie, obey me at once!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher was giving his hand to Mrs. Craig +Fontaine, a young widow, slight, with quick eyes, and +almost masculine vitality, and an extraordinary +elegance of dress and carriage, whom Gunther called +Louise. She was scarcely twenty-six, possessed of +a large fortune from her husband, who had been +killed in a steeplechase three years before. Her +position in society was unquestioned, and, being of a +singular temperament, she did as she pleased. She +was seen everywhere with young Gunther, and +gossip had already arranged their marriage—an +eventuality which she alone, who ambitiously desired it, +knew to be impossible.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, who was particularly sensitive to the air +of distinction that always surrounded her, even when +most unbending, took her hand with a little extra +gallantry, saying:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I changed my mind on your account only, +Louise, and I expect you to reward me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Between the two, from his college days, had been +a sort of confidential intimacy which Beecher had +the knack of cultivating.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Holliday having ordered the dinner, Mme. Fornez +took special delight in countermanding everything +that could be countermanded, substituting other +wines and abolishing the soup, scolding her escort +all the while with a calculated tyranny which +Mrs. Fontaine admired with a slight smiling tribute of +her lips, as the clever advertisement of a professional +woman that Mr. Holliday's fetch and carry attentions +were entirely on her own sufferance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How have you escaped being married?" said +Mrs. Fontaine in a bantering tone to Beecher, after +Mme. Fornez had relinquished him for a moment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I fly like a coward," he said, pleased at +the compliment implied.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Seriously, Teddy, you've been back in civilization +two months and you are not yet caught?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not the marrying kind," he said, with +conviction.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's he say—your Teddy?" said Mme. Fornez, +turning, with a laugh.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher repeated his statement.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Allons donc</em><span>, you!" She broke into a ripple of +laughter. "What do you say, Madame Fontaine?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fontaine's reply was a tolerant, amused +smile, and, leaning over, she pinched his ear.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher furiously defended himself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that's what all you women say. You think +you can catch any man. It irritates you to think any +man can resist you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, no, no," said Mme. Fornez energetically. +"There are lots of men who can't be married. I +don't say that, but what I say is this: a woman +knows, the moment she meets one of you, if he is +the kind that marries. A clever woman knows if +she can marry him, but all women know if he is the +marrying kind the moment they look in his eye. Is +it not so, Madame Fontaine?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said Mrs. Fontaine calmly, with a +glance around the table.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," said Beecher valiantly; "women are +as easily fooled as men."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mme. Fornez, drawing back her head, surveyed +him critically.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, you will marry the first pretty woman +who makes up her mind to marry you," she said, +tapping the table, amid laughter. "I see it; I know it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, how do you see it?" said Holliday, who +was what might be called "</span><em class="italics">un faux Anglais</em><span>."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is in the eye; it responds or it does not +respond," said Mme. Fornez, who shrugged her +shoulders in Holliday's direction, and said: "You, +you will never marry unless—unless there is one +</span><em class="italics">big</em><span> panic. Teddy, here, has the responsive eye. I +saw it at once when I said he was a nice boy. Oh, +you needn't be furious and blush," she added, pulling +his other ear. "It is quite right. I like you. You +shall play with me. You are much nicer than +Bobbie, who is all collar and cuffs."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And Mr. Gunther?" said Beecher, to cover his +confusion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mme. Fornez looked at him with the same critical +estimation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Monsieur Gunthère is very interesting," she +said. "What do you think, Madame Fontaine?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She asked the question with a little of that malice +which women can not help showing toward one another. +But Mrs. Fontaine, with the perfect control +that never left her, answered at once:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bruce will marry, but he is not the marrying +kind. He will marry when he pleases and how +he pleases, not the least sentimentally, a woman, a +young girl, who will raise up a family of +children—a son to succeed him, as he will succeed his father."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, that's it," said Mme. Fornez excitedly. +"He can not be caught; any woman would know that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther smiled without embarrassment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, any woman would know it," repeated Mrs. Fontaine, +looking at him with a little smile. "The +reason is, as Madame Fornez says, in the eyes—they +don't respond. It's more than that, they make +no distinction. They look at a woman as they do +at a man. He is quite to be congratulated."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, </span><em class="italics">la pauvre femme</em><span>," said Mme. Fornez—who +was very romantic—in a whisper, pressing +Beecher's arm. Then aloud, taking pity, "</span><em class="italics">Allons, +mes enfants</em><span>, we are getting too serious. Bobbie, +jump up and play us something lively."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The dinner continued gaily. They reached the +theater in the middle of the second act of the operetta, +and deranged the whole orchestra in the five minutes +necessary for Mme. Fornez to be sure that she was +properly recognized. Then, having carried off Elsie +Ware, a dainty prima donna with the wiles and figure +of a child, they proceeded to the party at Lindabury's +studio, Mme. Fornez complimenting Elsie Ware on +the quality of her voice, which was insignificant, and +saying nothing of her acting, which was distinguished +for its charm and natural gaiety.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, squeezed in between Louise Fontaine and +Mme. Fornez, slightly bewildered by the fragrance +of soft, filmy wraps, immensely flattered by the favor +he had won, nevertheless was wondering to himself +whether among the gay party he was approaching +would be the laughing eyes and rebellious ashen hair +of Nan Charters, whom he intended to treat </span><em class="italics">en +ennemi</em><span>, and whom he particularly wished to witness +his triumphant entry at the side of the celebrated +Emma Fornez.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The party was in full progress when they +arrived. Jack and Tom Lindabury resided, as +far as they could be said to reside anywhere, in a +great green stone house of the 1860 period, with a +deep garden in the back on which originally stood a +stable, access to which was had, in the Parisian style, +by a long, vaulted passage at one side. The +Lindaburys, having discovered, as many other young men +of fortune did at this period, the social adaptability +of the artist's atelier, had transformed the stable +into a great studio, with a kitchen and two or three +dressing-rooms, which served when the place was +given over to amateur theatricals or to the not +always restrained fêtes of the brothers' invention.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther's party emerged from the hollow passage +into the sudden cool of the short garden, where +masked stone seats and arbors were faintly disclosed +by the great stable lantern which swung at the +entrance of the studio. Several couples, profiting by +the obscurity, could be seen moving in the sudden +shadows of the garden, laughing with a nervous, +stifled laughter, as groups crossed or joined one +another.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Holliday and Beecher, recognizing acquaintances, +saluted them with the light banter, which was the +note of the evening. Mme. Fornez, inside, called +her companions with exclamations of surprise which +drew the whispered curiosity of every one to her +entrance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how funny it is! Look, Teddy, what do +you call it? It is your—cowboy life, is it not?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The great room had been transformed into a +mining saloon of the type made popular by a certain +play of the day. A bar ran across one end, presided +over by an impossibly wicked bartender. A roulette-wheel +was crowded at one side, while a negro orchestra, +in 1850 costume, was busily sawing away, led +by a cotton-head darky on a soap-box, who droned +out his directions. Three-fourths of the room were +in costume, Indian, Spanish, cowboy or frontier +At the appearance of the new arrivals in evening +dress, a shout went up:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tenderfeet, tenderfeet!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Fine them!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoot 'em up!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But, in deference to Mrs. Fontaine and Emma +Fornez, the protest was not so boisterous or accompanied +by such rushing tactics as had greeted others. +Nevertheless they were fined and escorted to one of +the dressing-rooms. The men were forced to don +dusters and white top-hats, and the women were given +sombreros and mantillas.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mme. Fornez, despite the frowns of Holliday, +clung to Beecher's arm, insisting on being personally +conducted, plying him with innumerable questions.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh what a terrible man! What an awful knife. +I like the black men—</span><em class="italics">sont ils rigolots</em><span>—with their +red and white collars. I want to see the bar-man +toss drinks—so, in the air, Teddy. Come this way."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once she stopped, and, facing about, took +him by the lapels of the coat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It does not annoy you that I adopt you—that +I call you Teddy?" she said, with a simulation of +timidity and a sudden concentration of her +swimming black eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Emma," he said, laughing, "if you stop there +I shall die of disappointment."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She frowned a little at the "Emma," but yielded +the point.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not very responsive, Monsieur Beecher," +she said, with a flash, "when I am so nice to you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Emma," said Beecher, who, not being +in love, could see clearly, "if I don't fall at your +feet, it's because I know very well that the +moment I did you would bulldoze me like Bob Holliday."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Emma Fornez looked at him with a sudden gay +approval.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, you are very nice," she said decidedly. +"You understand how to play. I forbid you to +fall in love, to get caught by any other woman, you +understand. You are to be mine for the whole +season—</span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing promised," said Beecher, laughing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Holliday came with two or three friends, clamoring +to be introduced. Beecher profited by the +confusion to make the turn of the room, which was +crowded with laughing groups striving to penetrate +the disguises of others while maintaining their own. +At the faro table, a group from his club called to +him to join them, but he kept on, saluting the dealer, +costumed according to Bret Harte, with an approving +wave of the hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The assembly was one of those curious social +demarcations which prevail when formal society essays +to be Bohemian, and which is probably evolved by +the women in their always curious desire to study +at close range those whose lives they are generally +condemning. As is usually the case, the guests were +made up of those who remained wrapped up in a +mantel of inquisitive respectability, and would go +early; a large body who waited impatiently for this +first secession; and a certain element, not all +professionals, at present exceedingly punctilious, who +would inherit the right to put out the lanterns and +close up the doors.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Young Beecher, pacing restlessly, nodding and +smiling, searched in the crowd without quite admitting +to himself what it was he sought. In the short +period of his return, he had gone into many different +sets, always retaining the prerogatives of his own. +The women, besides those of the younger married +women whom he knew, were of the opera, the stage, +one or two, even, whose names were electrically +displayed in vaudeville. He was caught up, greeted +enthusiastically, and extricated himself with deftness, +seeking in a general way to reach the great fireplace +near which he had detected the figure of Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The men, without exception, were of his own kind—of +that second generation which is the peculiar +problem of America. They were strong, well put +together, with heads chiseled somewhat on the +vigorous lines of the father spirits, condemned by the +accident of wealth to the most un-American of +professions, the idler. Without the mental languor of +the foreign dilettante, consumed in reality by their +own imprisoned energy, they were a restless, +dissatisfied testimony of the error of their own +civilization, the inability of the great, barbaric, +money-acquiring American to comprehend the uses of +wealth. Tonight, threatened with tomorrow's disaster, +stirred by the restlessness of the multitude, this +excess of baffled energy was felt everywhere: at the +bar, in the Anglo-Saxon intensity; at the faro table +where the play had a certain desperate counterpart +of the spirit that had assembled the future; in the +momentary sudden accesses of gaiety that began to +spread through the hesitant crowd, as an overturned +bottle spreads its fluid over the cloth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, too, without comprehending it, felt the +stimulus, awakening all the nervous unemployed +funds of energy within him and the intoxication +of movement and laughter that brought him a sudden +feverish hilarity, brought also a sense of unrest +and dissatisfaction. Underneath all the over-excited +spirits of frivolity was a current of grave apprehension +which he felt in the occasional groupings of +men and the low snatches of conversation which +reached him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bo Lynch's cleaned out."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"—not the only one."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"—and thousands thrown on the market."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Eddie Fontaine's crowd."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Copper'll blow up higher than a kite!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"—if Slade goes too."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They say there's a line formed in front of the +Atlantic."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In his progress he encountered Jack Lindabury, +lank and broad-shouldered, with the magnificent shell +of a head that might have been set on the shoulders +of a Gladstone. They shook hands with cordiality.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Devil of a mess about Majendie," said Lindabury.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you hit?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course; Eddie Fontaine's had us all in on +his tip. Some of the crowd are liable to be wiped +out. They tell me Bo Lynch had plunged every cent +in the world."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Shouldn't wonder," said Beecher, reflecting. +"Is he here?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure; he's the bartender," said Lindabury.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, surprised, nodded and made his way +toward the end that had been converted into a +frontier saloon, where, behind enormous mustaches, he +recognized the long features of his fellow lodger.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What'll y'have?" said Lynch, in hoarse accents. +Then, perceiving that he was recognized, he drew +Beecher aside and said anxiously:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You owe me fifty, Ted; we pulled it out. Go +over and stake it at the table for me, if you've got it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry," said Beecher, eying him critically and +resolving to lie.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well," said Lynch philosophically, "it'll look +big as a house to-morrow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you cleaned out, Bo?" said Beecher anxiously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no; I'm worth thousands," said Lynch, with +a grin, "until the market opens to-morrow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tough luck."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Steve Plunkett's worse—he's got to negotiate +his gold fillings, they say."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A party came up, clamoring for attention, and +Lynch hastened to the rescue. Beecher continued +curiously toward the faro table, admiring with an +admiration tinged with compassion the </span><em class="italics">sang froid</em><span> +of the losers, who in a desperate attempt to recover +the imminent loss of the morrow, were staking sums +that made the spectators raise their eyebrows in +amazement.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Supposing that Jap came back and sneaked the +ring the second time," said Gunther, taking his arm.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher started in surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I wasn't thinking of that," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I was. That puzzle of yours has been running +in my head ever since. I've got six people now +absolutely logically worked out for the thief—perfect +deduction. Take me over to Mrs. Kildair; I +want to meet that woman."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Bruce," said Beecher as they started to +cross the room, "it's going to be an awful smash. +All the boys are caught. There'll be the deuce to +pay here later on."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Shouldn't wonder—they started in pretty fierce."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Eat, drink, and be merry—eh?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>By the hazards of the crowd they found themselves +opposite Nan Charters, who was on the arm +of Charlie Lorraine, a clean-cut, pleasant type of +the racing set, decidedly handsome in a dark way.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, fellows, any old clothes to give away?" +said Lorraine, who had the topic of the evening in +jest. "I speak first. How the deuce did Eddie +Fontaine miss you two? Heard what we are doing? +We are organizing the Eddie Club. Every one who's +taken his tip is going up to live on Eddie's farm +for the winter—great idea, eh?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>While Gunther and Lorraine were laughing over +this plan, a creation of Bo Lynch's, Beecher was +listening to Nan Charters, with a difficult attempt +at calming the sudden emotion which her appearance +with Lorraine had fired within him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What a dreadful time you chose to call!" she +said directly. "Don't you know that it takes a +modern woman hours to mix her war-paint?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him with a little tantalizing malice +in her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Coquette," he thought furiously. "She is +delighted because I was ass enough to call and give +her the opportunity to refuse to see me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, not a call," he said aloud, committing the +stupidity of lying. "I was just rushing downtown, +and stopped to inquire how you were after last +night."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>This answer brought a natural pause. Each +looked at the other, he with defiance, she with +laughter in her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're staying late," he said at last, because her +listening attitude forced him to say something.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It'll be more amusing when it thins out," he said +in a purposely languid tone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When the sight-seers have left—yes," she said, +smiling.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Wishing to show what slight importance he +attached to the encounter, he contrived to nudge +Gunther as a signal that he was ready; but, his friend +proving insensible, he was forced to proceed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you come with Mrs. Kildair?" he said perfunctorily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"With whom?" he asked, regretting the question +as soon as it was uttered.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"With Mr. Lorraine—of course," she said, +looking down modestly, but beneath her eyelids he +divined again the cunning malice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment, to his delight, Emma Fornez +perceived him, and, being profoundly bored by her +chance cavalier, a purely passive listener thoroughly +bewildered by her sallies, gave a cry of joy:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, traitor, where have you been?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Dismissing her companion with a bob of her head, +she seized Beecher's arm, exclaiming:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavens—save me! I have been shrieking at +a deaf-mute."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the crowd, the head of her late companion +could be seen, rolling his uncomprehending eyes. +Beecher, overjoyed at the arrival, which gave him +an advantage he was quick to perceive, nodded to +Miss Charters and departed, exaggerating, for her +benefit, the confidential intimacy which Mme. Fornez's +attitude permitted.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is that woman?" said Emma Fornez immediately. +"She is watching us. She doesn't seem +pleased. </span><em class="italics">Tant pis</em><span>!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nan Charters—one of our younger actresses."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Good?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She is pretty—in a way," said Mme. Fornez, +using her lorgnette, without caring in the least that +Miss Charters perceived it. "</span><em class="italics">Pas mal—pas mal</em><span>. +Not much temperament—afraid to uncover her +shoulders. It is not an actress; it is a woman. You +are interested, Teddy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, </span><em class="italics">avec ça</em><span>. You are in love?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I met her last night for the first time."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not an answer. Yes, you have a guilty +look. You are a little taken—she provokes you—these +little dolls always do. I will give you good +advice; I will help you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How?" said Beecher, a bit confused.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I will be very, very nice with you," said his +companion gaily, her feet dancing to the music. "A +woman always wants what another woman wants, +particularly when she is a little actress and I am +Emma Fornez. It's very simple, but it never fails; +only, I will not help you if you are really in love, +you understand?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher solemnly assured her that she need have +no fear.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, then. Be sure to pay attention to +Madame Fontaine too; she likes you. We are the +two women most distinguished here tonight—both +high, high above your little Charters. It will double +the effect. Do as I say; it'll be amusing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther joined them, protesting.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Madame Fornez, it's not fair. We'll have +to get up a Whitecaps party and kidnap Ted, if you +don't stop."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we understand each other perfectly," said +Beecher, delighted to perceive that Nan Charters was +still following his progress. "Whenever Emma +wants to escape from some one, she remembers that +she's crazy about me. It is all arranged."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Emma Fornez burst out laughing and gave him +a little pat on his shoulder with the lorgnon.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We are—chums, you say—</span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>, Teddy? +Monsieur Gunthère is different. I like to talk with +him—seriously."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But at this moment, in response to a clamor, one +of the negroes began dancing a shuffle in a quickly +formed circle. Emma Fornez rushed off, with a cry +of delight, deserting both young men.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You've made a killing, Ted," said Gunther, +laughing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Pooh! she'll forget my name tomorrow," said +Beecher, who, however, believed nothing of the sort. +"Come on."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair was standing by the great Italian +fireplace, her glance playing incessantly through the +crowd, nodding from time to time, but without +hearing the remarks of two or three older men who +surrounded her. So different was the magnetic +animation of her whole attitude from the ordinary feline +languor of her pose, that Beecher noticed it at once, +an impression heightened by the flash of the eyes +and the almost electric warmth of her hand as she +greeted him. Mrs. Kildair, who had followed his +entrance with Mrs. Craig Fontaine and Emma +Fornez and moreover was particularly pleased at his +presenting young Gunther, was unusually gracious.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther, with his direct, almost obtrusive stare, +studied her with unusual curiosity, conversed a little, +and departed, after receiving a cordial invitation +from her to call.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the matter with you, Rita?" said +Beecher immediately.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Matter—how do you mean?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never seen you so excited."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, do I seem so?" she said, waving to some +one on the floor.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Extraordinarily so."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am generally—dormant," she said, laughing. +"Yes, I am excited tonight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are on the track of the ring—you have +found it," he said instantly, with a pang of +disappointment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not that," she said, with a frown.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>An idea came to him. He imagined that she too, +like the good gambler he felt her to be, was laughing +before the irretrievable disaster of the morrow.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Rita," he said sympathetically, +"you're not caught in the stock market, are you?</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, of course not." She saw the look on +his face, and was touched by it. "Ruined and dying +game? No, no; I am excited, very much excited, +that's all. Will you ask me to dance, sir?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are they dancing?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course. Hurry up!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Some of the more ardent spirits, impatient for +the crowd to thin out, were whirling about, clearing +an expanding circle by force of their revolving +attacks. In a moment they were moving among the +dancers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair danced remarkably well. In this +lithe body, so pliant and yet so inspired with the +vertigo of the waltz, Beecher was again aware of +the strange excitement that seemed to animate her +whole being, and continued to ask himself the cause +of such an unusual emotion. From time to time, +the light fingers on his arms contracted imperiously, +urging him to a wilder measure. He had a strange +sensation of mystery and flight, as though he were +no longer dancing, but whirling around with her in +his arms, each striving, in the frantic flight, to +conquer the other.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The dance ended. The spectators burst into applause. +Mrs. Kildair, half opening her eyes, thanked +him with a grateful smile. He walked away with +her on his arm, agitated and troubled. What all the +brilliance of Emma Fornez had not been able to +accomplish, one touch of Rita Kildair had effected.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I've lots of things to ask you," he said hurriedly, +remembering McKenna's suggestions.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; not now—tomorrow," she said breathlessly, +with the same caressing, half-veiled look. She +gave him her hand in dismissal.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He understood. The sensation which had come +in the few moments of their vertigo had been too +extraordinary to be dimmed by a descent to conversation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He left her, as always, aware of the artist in her, +that never failed in the conception of a situation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If I fall in love, it won't be with Nan Charters," +he said, following Mrs. Kildair with his eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Then, mindful of Emma Fornez's advice, he joined +Mrs. Fontaine, staying with her until she gave the +signal to leave for those who had come to watch.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>With this departure, in which Mrs. Kildair joined, +a certain element of restraint disappeared. The +unmistakable rising note of loosened tongues freed +from Anglo-Saxon restraint by the scientifically +contrived punch, began to mount above the rhythmic beat +of the music, which itself seemed suddenly possessed +of a wilder abandon. At the roulette table the +players, coldly concentrated, continued in strained +attitudes, oblivious of all but the blinding green nap +before them.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Toward two o'clock the thirty or forty who still +remained formed a circle, camping on the floor, +Indian fashion, clamoring for songs and vaudeville +turns. Jack Lindabury and Bo Lynch gave their +celebrated take-off on grand opera. Elsie Ware, +riotously acclaimed, accompanied by an hilarious +chorus, sang her famous successes, turning to and +fro coquetting with first one man and then another.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Emma Fornez, excited as a child, without waiting +to be urged, ran to the piano and struck the first +riotous chords of the "Habanera" of </span><em class="italics">Carmen</em><span>. Instantly +there was a scramble for the sides of the long +piano, and when she looked up again it was into a +score of comically adoring faces, each striving to +attract her attention. But Beecher, first to a position of +vantage, received the full concentration of the diva's +glances. Flushed with the peculiar fleeting +intoxication of exuberant youth—the knowledge of the +evening's success with women others coveted—he +leaned far over the piano, resting his chin in his +hands, gazing with a provoking malice into the eyes +of the singer, exaggerating the intensity of his look, +maliciously obvious of Nan Charters, whom he felt +at his side. Emma Fornez, lending herself to the +maneuver, opened her wide, languorous eyes, singing +to him alone, with a little forward leaning of her +body:</span></p> +<blockquote> +<div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><span>"</span><em class="italics">L'amour est enfant de la Bohême,</em></div> +<div class="line"><em class="italics">Il n'a jamais connu de loi</em></div> +<div class="line"><em class="italics">Si tu m'aimes.</em><span>"</span></div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +</div> +</blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The song ended in a furore. Mme. Fornez +was overwhelmed with spontaneous adulation, and +Beecher, laughing and struggling, was choked and +carried away by the indignant suitors. Escaping, he +came back, happy and resolved on more mischief. +He had always had a passion for what is called fancy +dancing, and in Europe had learned the dances of the +country. He proposed to Emma Fornez a Spanish +dance, and the idea was received with shouts of +enthusiasm. Every one camped on the floor again, +while three or four of the men, converting their +sombreros into imaginary tambourines, shook them +frantically in the air, led by Bo Lynch, who had somehow +procured a great tin tray.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You dance—are you sure?" asked Emma Fornez, +looking at his flushed face with an anxious look; +for some of the men, notably Lorraine and Lynch, +were in a visibly excited state.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," he said confidently.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Allons</em><span>, then!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The dance he had chosen was one somewhat akin +to the tarantella, a slow movement gradually and +irresistibly singing up into a barbaric frenzy at the +climax—one of those dances that are the epitome +of primal coquetry, of the savage fascinating allurements +of the feline, provoking to the dancer, doubly +provoking to the spectator, bewildered by the sudden +antagonisms of the poses and the brusque yieldings. +At the end, according to Spanish custom, the dance +ended in an embrace. Emma Fornez, surprised to +find so inspired a partner, transported by the mood, +ended laughingly with a kiss, her warm arms +remaining languidly a moment about the shoulders of the +young man, whom she complimented with expressions +of surprise. Besieged at every side with cries +for an encore, they repeated the dance, freer in their +revolving movements from the intimacy of the first +passage.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>From time to time Beecher had managed to steal +a glance in the direction of Nan Charters. She was +sitting straight and unrelaxing, her eyes never leaving +him, the lines of her mouth drawn a little tightly. +When Emma Fornez had embraced him for the second +time, Beecher, relaxing, perceived that Nan Charters +turned her back and was conversing volubly, +her shoulders rising and falling with little rapid +movements, while her fan had the same nervous +lashing that one sees in the uneasy panther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was delighted at his success, at the revenge he +had inflicted, at the superiority he had regained. +The dances began again, but he did not dance. He +held himself near the entrance, surveying the scene +triumphantly. The experience was new to him; in +the few years he had passed since college, he had +been really out of the world. This game—the most +fascinating of all the games of chance that can +fascinate the gambler in each human being—the game +between man and woman, came to him as a revelation, +with a zest that was almost a discovery of his youth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once a feminine hand was laid on his arm +and the voice of Nan Charters said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come outside—in the garden. I want to speak +to you. Come quietly."</span></p> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 66%" id="figure-64"> +<span id="come-outsidein-the-garden-i-want-to-speak-to-you-come-quietly"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'Come outside—in the garden. I want to speak to you. Come quietly'"" src="images/img-132.jpg" /> +<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> +<span class="italics">"'Come outside—in the garden. I want to speak to you. Come quietly'"</span></div> +</div> +<p class="pnext"><span>Elated by a strange, almost cruel feeling of +conquest, he followed her, with a last look back at the +studio, at the littered bar, where Bo Lynch was still +calling raucously for customers, at the silent +intensity of the gamblers, whom he occasionally perceived +between the flitting dresses of the dancers. In the +middle of the floor Lorraine and Plunkett, stumbling +and unsteady, were solemnly waltzing in each other's +arms—the specter of the morning forgotten.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He closed the door softly and joined the young +actress, who was waiting for him at some distance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you take me home?" she asked directly. +"Mr. Lorraine is in such a condition that I do not +wish to go with him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," he said, a feeling of protection +replacing the first victorious perception of the fire of +jealousy he had awakened in her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther's automobile was waiting, and they +entered it. She did not say a word to him, and he, +determined to force her to begin the conversation, +waited with a pleased enjoyment until three-quarters +of the journey had been accomplished. All at once +she turned, and, taking him by the lapels of the coat, +brought him toward her as one scolds a child.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you so angry because I didn't see you this +afternoon?" she said, smiling.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The feminine defensive instinct of avoiding the +issue by ambushing it with subterfuges, is equaled +only by that instinct for attack which brushes aside +all preliminaries and strikes directly. Beecher, taken +off his guard, was a prey to two contrary impulses. +Two replies, absolutely opposed and illogically joined, +came to his lips. One brutal, still charged with the +savageness of the evening, to say:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Angry? Not at all. Aren't you claiming a +little too much?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And the other, a warm, yielding desire to blurt out +frankly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I was angry. I wanted to see you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She waited. Her large eyes, seeming larger in +the dim light of the carriage, continued steadily on +him. The first impulse dominated the second, but +was modified by it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Angry? What a curious idea!" he began, with +a half laugh. "You were so upset—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She interrupted him, shaking her head.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you act the way you did tonight? +Don't do things that are not like you. That is not +the way we began."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was silent, not knowing what to answer. Presently +she withdrew into her corner, glanced out of +the window, as if to assure herself that they were +near their destination, and, placing her hand over his, +said gently:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are very sympathetic to me. Keep it so."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>For all that he said to himself that it was his favor +with other women that made him precious to her, +he felt a certain yielding of the spirit. He wondered +if he could take her in his arms; but he restrained +himself, and closed his two hands over hers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we are very sympathetic," he said; but he +did not say all he meant.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What a foolish boy you are," she said finally, +looking up at him. "Don't you know that if I say +one word you will go wherever I want you to?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was so taken by surprise at the audacity and +confidence of her remark, that he could not collect +himself for an answer, outgeneraled by the woman +who had so calculated to a nicety her last words that +the arrival of the automobile left him without +response.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He went home, repeating to himself what she had +asserted, resisting a wild desire to return to the +Lindaburys' and forget there the disorder in his soul; +and, though he rebelled scornfully against her confident +assertion, the incessant repetition of it did leave +an impression.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As he passed the great marble façade of the Atlantic +Trust, an unusual sight made him bend out of the +window. In the chill gray of the coming dawn, a +thin line of depositors was waiting, some standing, +others huddled on campstools. At the sight the +seriousness of life smote him, and he returned home, +the tremulous turns of the human gamble he had +played feverishly blended and confused with the dark +realities of the rising tragedy of speculation.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-x"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>When, the next morning, Beecher struggled out +of a profound stupor, it was to be awakened +by the sounds of Bo Lynch at the telephone. He +rolled out of bed after a startled gaze at his watch, +recalling in a flash the incidents of the night before. +As he emerged he heard the final phrase, and the +click of the released receiver:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sell at once—throw them over."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Bo Lynch, a pad of paper in one hand, a tumbler +of cracked ice in the other, already dressed for the +day, greeted him nonchalantly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Morning."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How late did you stay?" asked Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we breakfasted together," said Lynch, with +a wry smile; "charming little repast. But I picked +up enough to pay for my winter's stabling."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher glanced at the clock, which was approaching +the hour.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Waiting for the opening?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes." His glance followed Beecher's with a +sudden concentration, and, taking up a matchbox, +he struck a match and threw it away. "Waiting +to see if I can escape working another year."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, comprehending that sympathy would be +distasteful, picked up the morning papers. The +scareheads were alive with the note of panic: a dozen +banks were threatened with runs; a rumor was abroad +that the Atlantic Trust and two other great institutions +might close their doors within the next twenty-four +hours; an interview with Majendie protested +against the action of the Clearing-house, asserting +the recklessness of the move and the solvency of the +Trust Company; a riot was feared on the East Side, +where the small Jewish depositors, always prey to +alarms, were in a state of frenzy; vague, guarded +hints of further actions to be expected by the +Clearing-house against another prominent chain of banks, +and a report that John G. Slade was to tender his +resignation, were joined with rumors from the office +of the State Examiner of Banks that there might be +grounds for the criminal prosecution of certain +officials.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The telephone rang. Lynch went to the receiver, +arranging his pad methodically on the table. Beecher +stopped reading, listening to the broken threads.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, go ahead." ...</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How much?" ...</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Whew! Give me the Northern Pacific figures now." ...</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—yes—I see." ...</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Something of a break, isn't it?" ...</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"All right." ...</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No—that's all in the game. Thank you. I'll +send my check to-day. Thanks."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He put up the receiver, glanced curiously at the +clock, which marked twelve minutes after ten, and +studied the pad.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher had never been intimate with Lynch, but +he liked him and his standards of Britannic phlegm. +He belonged to that curious freemasonry of men, an +indefinable, invisible standard of association, but one +that cannot be counterfeited.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you come out?" he said carelessly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"About as I expected. The market has gone wild."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Bo Lynch poured out a morning peg, adjusted his +cravat critically in the mirror, and took up his hat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Lunching at the club?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to-day."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It'll be a cheerful funeral. So long."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>After his departure Beecher studied the jotted +figures on the pad. In the twelve minutes of the +opening, Lynch had lost a clear thirty-two thousand +dollars.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>By the time he had dressed and breakfasted, he had +answered the telephone a dozen times, messages from +men he knew, anxious to learn if his intimacy with +young Gunther had brought him any valuable information; +inquiries as to the effect on his personal +fortunes, and rumors of individual losses.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He himself remained undisturbed by the frenzy. +His own fortune, thanks to the wise provision of a +hard-headed father, was safely invested in solid +properties, and the world of speculation had not +entered his ken. He returned to his newspapers, read +everything bearing on the personal fate of John +G. Slade, which interested him extraordinarily since his +encounter with that abrupt and forceful personality, +and, rising, asked himself how he could kill the time +until the hour of his luncheon with Rita Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The irritation he had felt at the end of his ride +with Nan Charters had disappeared. Studying the +evening calmly, he analyzed her words with a clearer +perception. He comprehended that, beyond all the +cleverness of her attitude, she had been veritably +piqued by his indifference and his absorption by +Emma Fornez, who treated her as a little actress. +Considering the encounter thus, he smiled occasionally, +congratulating himself that the conversation +had ended so abruptly—when a continuance would +have led him perhaps to say some of those sudden, +illogical remarks which are irresistibly drawn from a +man by the provoking contact of certain feminine +personalities.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She may say what she wants," he said, selecting +a cigarette. "She was caught by her own tricks." He +took several steps, and grinned to himself. "It's +an amusing game, and a game that will be amusing +to play."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Despite this feeling of confidence and elation, he +had an irresistible desire to telephone her, to indulge +himself in the pleasure of hearing her voice again. +He had resisted the impulse several times, convincing +himself of the tactical error; and yet, the more he +argued against it, the more the desire haunted him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Ordinarily he spent an agreeable half-hour after +breakfast, calling up on the telephone those of the +opposite sex with whom he was in the relation of a +good comrade. He enjoyed these morning snatches +of intimacy, with an enjoyment untouched with any +seriousness. This morning, as he took the telephone +in hand, he thought first of Emma Fornez, but as he +had neglected to make his adieu to her on leaving +with Nan Charters, he considered a moment while +he formulated an acceptable apology.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The prima donna answered him from the languid +idleness of her bed, where she was resting in a state +of complete exhaustion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am ab-so-lutely </span><em class="italics">fini</em><span>," she said in an anguished +tone. "It is fright-ful. I shall never be able to +sing—never!" Then she remembered. "I am +very angry with you—yes, yes,—very angry."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher explained, with crocodile tears, how he +had been forced to come to the aid of a distressed +and helpless female.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ta-ta-ta! Stuff and nonsense! You could have +boxed her up in a carriage and sent her home—yes, +yes, you could. But you are in love—you are +weak—you wanted an excuse—she made a fool of +you—she twisted you around her finger!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher denied the charge with indignation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If you wanted to, you could have come back to +me—yes, you could."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But you had deserted me—I was furious."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The conversation continued ten minutes on these +purely conventional lines and ended with a promise +to drop in that afternoon for tea.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He had hardly ended when Mrs. Fontaine called +up with an invitation to her box, for Mme. Fornez's +début in Carmen the following week.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Then he called up Miss Rivers, not because he +particularly wished to talk with her, for he had +determined on her decapitation, so to speak, but in order +to appease somewhat the desire he had to telephone +some one else. In conversing over the telephone, he +felt a revival of interest and promised to try to drop +in for a call that afternoon.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, looking down at the telephone in a +dissatisfied way, and, turning his back, went in search +of his hat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She'll expect me to telephone, of course," he +thought; "besides, what excuse could I give? I'm +not going to play into her game—not by a long +shot. I know the kind—entirely too much brain-work +to suit me. Oh, yes, she'd like to annex +me—because I've been attentive to Emma Fornez—sure; +but when it comes down to business. Mr. Charles +Lorraine has a hundred thousand a year and I have +thirty. She knows that." He laughed disdainfully +and repeated, "You bet she knows that—well, so +do I."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He returned to the sitting-room and selected a +cane, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the +accursed telephone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't," he said, taking three steps toward it +and then turning abruptly away.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment when he stood wavering, it began +to ring. He went to it hastily. Miss Charters was +calling him...</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How lucky!" he said purposely. "I was just +going out. I heard you from the hall."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You know, I never realized until this morning +what I had done," said the voice at the other end. +"I was so upset by Mr. Lorraine's condition that I +forgot you were there with Madame Fornez."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Clever girl," he said to himself, smiling. Then +aloud: "Oh, I explained matters."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was afraid I'd got you into trouble."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed. Madame Fornez is a good sort; +she understood at once."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so glad. You've 'phoned her already then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He remembered McKenna's suggestion, but he did +not wish to make the demand direct.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Something of a smash in Wall Street to-day," +he said carelessly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You weren't caught, were you?" she said, with +a note of quick sympathy which he admired.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I don't speculate."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was afraid you might have."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove," he said, "I hope you didn't lose anything."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I don't think so," she said doubtfully. "I +had some money invested, but I suppose if I hold +on that'll come up again."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not on margins?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's your broker?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Garraboy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Garraboy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The news produced on him a strangely ominous +effect. He forgot all the parleying and the tactical +planning of his campaign, overshadowed by a sudden +sense of sympathy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to talk to you about that," he said +anxiously. "Have you much in his hands?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Much for me—about twenty thousand."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you going to be in this afternoon? Can I +see you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you would."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Something in her voice struck him by its weakness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not worried, are you?" he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A little."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you call him up?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been trying to."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was going to offer to telephone for her, when +he remembered the antagonism he had felt for the +broker, and refrained until a fuller knowledge. He +reassured her, making light of her doubts, though +feeling an instinctive anxiety for himself. Then he +called up McKenna; but the detective was out, and, +leaving word that he would try later, he went for his +morning ride.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A little before one o'clock he was in the softly +lighted studio of Mrs. Kildair, waiting for his hostess +with the pleasurable anticipation of a confidential +tête-à-tête. On one thing he was thoroughly +resolved—to convince her of the seriousness of his +purpose in offering his assistance. As he paced +slowly and irregularly about the room, his mind, +perplexed by the mystery of the disappearance of the +ring, instinctively considering the possibilities for +concealment, he was surprised to hear, behind the +closed doors of the bedroom, the sound of voices in +agitated discussion. He stopped, perplexed, for in +his walk about the room he had arrived at a point +in such close proximity that the tones were easily +distinguishable.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I have already made up my mind," cried +a voice which he recognized at once as Mrs. Bloodgood's.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair answered her, but in a lower tone—a +note of warning and remonstrance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what do I care for the world!" repeated the +voice, on a higher note. "The world is all against +me. I have only one life—I want to live some of it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, ill at ease, realizing that he had stumbled +on a situation which he had no right to surprise, +tip-toed away. Hardly had he seated himself when +the door opened brusquely, and Mrs. Bloodgood +appeared, saying:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; it is decided. I'm going. My only regret +is that we waited so long."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Two spots of red showed on her dark cheeks, while +her head was carried defiant, alive with sudden +energy. Beecher was struck with the unwonted +brilliancy and youth which the emotion that possessed +her had communicated to her whole body. Mrs. Kildair +followed her, with the frown of one who disapproves, +but who knows the futility of any contradiction.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher rose hastily, emerging from the shadow. +The two women stopped, surprised at his presence, +considering him nervously. The few snatches of +conversation he had heard, coupled with what +Gunther had revealed to him of the infatuation of +Mrs. Bloodgood and Majendie, made him divine the +intention of elopement they had been discussing. His +sympathy was touched by the distress of the young +woman, and, advancing quickly, he said, with a +pretense of shame:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, I must have been nodding! A thousand pardons."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How long have you been here?" said Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"About ten minutes," he said, rubbing his eyes +and laughing. "Confound that chair—it's infernally +comfortable, after being up all night. You +made me jump."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bloodgood had regained her calm. She +embraced Mrs. Kildair and held out her hand to Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you let me see you to your carriage?" he +said eagerly, with a smile of such good will that she +perceived that whatever he had overheard, she had +no need to fear.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not necessary—but thank you," she said, +giving him a grateful smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He went to the door, opening it with a little +exaggerated courtesy, and returned thoughtfully to +Mrs. Kildair, who was watching him fixedly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You overheard?" she said directly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A little."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And what did you understand from it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, frankly, knowing what I do, I should believe +that Mrs. Bloodgood had decided to run away," +he answered slowly; "which means, of course, one +man. I am sorry. I could not help hearing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair had seated herself on the Récamier +sofa and was studying him, undecided as to what +she should say.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have heard too much, Teddy, not to know +all," she said, reassured by the directness of his +glance. "Besides, in twenty-four hours it will be in +every paper in the country. I do not need to ask your +promise to keep secret what you have heard. She is +leaving her home and going openly away with +Mr. Majendie—this very afternoon."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Majendie running off?" said Beecher, astounded.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now—at such a time as this—when he is +under fire? I don't believe it!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I should not have believed it either," said +Mrs. Kildair thoughtfully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know his kind," declared Beecher warmly; +"he would never commit such a folly—never!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet, that is what is going to happen."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is terrible. Doesn't she realize that he lays +himself open to every charge? He'll be called a +defaulter and an absconder—it is worse than death!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She realizes nothing," said Mrs. Kildair in a +solemn voice, "except that she has hated one man +and lived with him ten years, and that now, when +everything is against the man she adores, she will +sacrifice anything to be at his side."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But the sacrifice he is making—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Her sacrifice is too great—she doesn't realize +that," said Mrs. Kildair, rising. "Poor Elise! Her +life has been terrible. She is wild with anxiety, +with the thought of what Majendie may do. When +one has suffered as much as she has, one more +sorrow will not stop her."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher was silent, overcome by the vision of an +emptiness which he could divine only in a general +way, having as yet little knowledge of the silent +tragedies that pass at our elbows. When Mrs. Kildair +turned again, it was with all her accustomed +poise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We can do nothing," she said calmly. "Let us +forget it. Luncheon is a little late. We shall be +three; I asked Mr. Slade to join us. By the way, +you were kind enough to offer me your help in the +matter of my ring. I shan't need it now, but thanks +all the same."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" he asked, surprised.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My detectives assure me they are on the right +track," she said carelessly. "All I ask of you, as I +have of every one, is to keep this unfortunate +occurrence to yourself."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher had been on the point of informing her +of his retaining McKenna, confident of her approval. +Ignorant as he was of Mrs. Kildair's dread that +Slade's ownership of the ring might come to light, +with all the consequent public misunderstanding, he +was disagreeably impressed by her announcement. +He did not for one moment believe her statement +that the right clue had been found. All he understood +was that, for some reason, she desired to keep +him out of the case, and this understanding irritated +him. And the introduction of Slade at what he had +considered his privileged hour annoyed him even +more. His curiosity increased twofold as he was +forced to retain his information. Then he +remembered McKenna's hint, and said carelessly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, that reminds me—I want the address +of your detective agency."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She raised her eyes very slowly, and her glance +rested on his for a full moment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you ask that?" she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He repeated the story he had prepared of a friend's +demand, mentioning Gunther's name.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair rose as though reluctantly, motioning +him to wait, and, going to her room, returned +after a long moment with an address on a slip of paper.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There, Teddy," she said, giving it to him. Her +manner had completely changed. She was again the +Rita Kildair who treated him </span><em class="italics">en camarade</em><span>. "You +are disappointed in not working out an exciting +mystery," she said, laughing. "Do you know, Teddy, +I am quite surprised at you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How so?" he said warily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I should have thought by this time you would +have engaged half the detectives in New York," she +said, turning from him to arrange the cushions at +her back. "And here you have done nothing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher was not deceived by the innocence of the +interrogation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the last days his wits had been trained by +contact with different feminine personalities. He +understood that she wished to find out what he had +done and assumed at once an attitude of boyish candor.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not my fault, Rita," he said contritely. +"You put me off—you remember."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's so," she said. She motioned to him with +a little gesture of her fingers and indicated a chair at +her side. "Come here, you great boy," she said, +smiling. "You are furious at me, aren't you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" he said, sitting near her, with a resolve +to resist all her curiosity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You like to be the confidant of pretty women, +Teddy," she said, laughing as he blushed. "To be +on the inside—to know what others can't. Well, +you shan't be deprived."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her in surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What I told you is not true," she said candidly. +"I have no clue, as yet, and am quite in the dark. I +give you permission to do all you can. You see," +she continued, holding out her hand with a charming +smile, "I give you my full confidence—confidence +for confidence—</span><em class="italics">n'est ce pas</em><span>?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher made a rapid mental reservation and +repeated her phrase, expecting a direct examination, +but her manner became thoughtful again and she said +pensively:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Besides, you have stumbled on a confidence +yourself, and if you are to be trusted with that you +should be trusted entirely." She looked at him +quietly for a moment, and then added: "As a proof +of my trust, Teddy, I am going to ask you to be my +ally now. Mr. Slade will be here shortly. I do not +wish to be alone with him. Do not go until he is gone."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>This request, implying as it did his own superior +intimacy, delighted Beecher. He felt half of his +suspicions vanish as he answered wisely:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand. He is quite daffy about you, isn't he?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite. But he has to be kept in place."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, of course."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And now you are happy again," she said, tapping +his arm with a little friendly gesture and smiling +inwardly at the satisfaction which began to radiate +from his face. "Teddy, you are a nice boy. I will +teach you what the world is; you shall be my +confidant, and we will laugh together; only, you must +not be sentimental, you understand."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Never," he said with vigorous assertion. Then +his conscience began to reprove him, and he blurted +out: "I say, Rita, I haven't been quite honest, but +you rubbed me the wrong way. I really have been +on the job."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Besides Gunther, whom else have you talked +with?" she asked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna, the detective; and he's dead keen on +the case," he said enthusiastically, not noticing what +she had implied.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, McKenna!" she said, nodding appreciatively. +"You have done well."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She sat up, suddenly serious, and, extending her +hand, took from him the address she had given him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did McKenna tell you to find out my detective?" +she said slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher comprehended all at once how he had +played into her game, but, with her glance on his, it +was impossible to deny.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said; "he told me that he'd been on a +dozen cases where the detectives who had come in +to make a search had gone partners with the thief. +He wanted to be certain there had been a real search."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>This seemed to reassure her, for she nodded with +a return of her careless manner, as though comprehending +the situation. Then, crumpling in her hands +the paper with the address, she allowed her body to +regain its former languid position and said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to meet McKenna; you must bring +him around. How is he starting on the case?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Before Beecher could answer, the bell rang and +Slade's bulky figure crowded the frame of the doorway. +He entered, and the portières, at his passing, +rolled back like two storm clouds.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Whether or not Mrs. Kildair had calculated the +effect of the intimacy of Beecher's position, Slade +saw it at once as he noted savagely the involuntary +separating movement which each unconsciously +performed, and, perceiving it, exaggerated its +importance. The look he gave the younger man revealed +to the amused woman how much he would have liked +in barbaric freedom to have seized him and crushed +him in his powerful arms.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry to be late," he said abruptly, glancing at +the clock. "I've taken the liberty to leave your +telephone number, Mrs. Kildair, in case something +important turns up."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They passed immediately into the dining-room, +Mrs. Kildair enjoying this clash of opposite +personalities. Slade was not a man of small talk, +disdaining the easy and ingratiating phrases with which +other men establish a congenial intimacy. For the +first quarter of an hour he withdrew from the +conversation, and, being hungry, ate with relish. +Beecher, abetted by his hostess, taking a malicious +pleasure in the superiority he enjoyed, chatted of a +hundred and one things which he shared with his +listener, incidents of the party at Lindabury's, gossip +of the world they knew, Emma Fornez and Holliday, +Mrs. Fontaine and Gunther. Then, naturally +drawn to the one topic that charged the air with the +electricity of its drama, he related the uproar in the +city, the long lines of depositors before the banks, +the incident of Bo Lynch in the morning, and the +effect on the men they knew. In this both he and +Mrs. Kildair had an ulterior motive—to make Slade +talk: Mrs. Kildair, for reasons of her own, Beecher +alive to his dramatic closeness to the one man about +whose success or ruin all the storm of rumor and +gossip was raging.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Stocks are still dropping," said Mrs. Kildair, +glancing at Slade, who appeared quite unconscious. +"An enormous quantity of holdings have been thrown +on the market."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How long do you think it will keep up?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That depends; a day, a week—Mr. Slade knows +better than any one."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade looked up suddenly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do they say about me?" he asked grimly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Every one expects the Associated Trust to be +the next," said Beecher frankly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Probably. I'll tell you one bit of news," he +added quietly. "The Clearing-house will refuse to +clear for us this afternoon."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But that means failure," said Mrs. Kildair, with +a quick glance at him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall see."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But the run has already started."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; we have paid off five depositors already," +he said, with a smile that was almost imperceptible.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Only five?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It takes a long time to verify some accounts. +Then the law allows discretion in payment—takes +quite a while to count out five thousand in half +dollars." All at once he leaned forward heavily and +began to speak, contemplatively interested. "The +real truth is the thing that is never known. The +newspapers never print the news. Sometimes it is +given to them in confidence, to make certain that they +won't print it. How much do you suppose will ever +be known of the real causes of the present crisis? +Nothing. They may let the market go to the dogs +for three days, six days, a month, ruin thousands of +victims, and the public will never know that the +whole thing can be stopped now, in twenty-four +hours, by ten men. And, when they get ready, ten +men </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> stop it. Then there'll be columns of +adulation—patriotic services, unselfish devotion, and all +that; and what will have happened—ten men will +be in pocket a few millions as the result of their +sacrificing devotion. The public must have a +victim in order to be calmed, to be satisfied that +everything has been changed. Then a weak man, some +unlucky lieutenant, will be served up, and things will +go on again, until one group of millions is ready +to attack another. How the public will howl! +Majendie has taken the gambler's risk; Majendie has +failed. There's the crime—failure; and yet, ninety +per cent. of the fortunes today have turned on the +scale—up or down—win or lose. For every promoter +that wins, twenty fail with a little different +turn of the luck.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We're all criminals—only we don't steal +directly. We get it done for us. We want +franchises for a great railroad system. We shut our +eyes—hire an agent—go out and get this, +no strings, no directions—show us only your +results! Everything is in irresponsibility. A million +dollars can commit no crime. After all, it's in the +motive—a man who steals because he's hungry is +a thief; a corporation that bribes a legislature and +steals franchises, to create a great system of +transportation, is performing a public service. It's all +in what you're after. There're two ways to look +at every big man; see the two periods—first, when +he is trying to get together money—power; and +second, what he creates when he has it. Same in +politics—a man's better in office than running for +it. Every man of power wants to arrive, anything +to arrive, but when he gets there—then's the second +period. The way to judge us is whether we want +money only, or money to create something big."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I want sixty millions," said Slade abruptly. +"Will I get it?" He shrugged his shoulders, and +taking a knife balanced it in seesaw on his finger, +letting it finally drop with an exclamation of +impatience. "That's the danger—the getting of it. +I may have it in two years more and then again—" He +opened his hand as though flinging sand in the +air, and added: "In a week it may be over. </span><em class="italics">Rouge +et noir</em><span>—one bad turn at the beginning and Napoleon +Bonaparte would have been shot as a conspirator. +Up to the present, I've been living the first +period—afterward I'll justify it; I'll build."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In what way?" said Mrs. Kildair, who, while +following his brutal exposition with the tribute +instinctive to force, was nevertheless aware that this +unusual revelation of himself had likewise a trifling +object—the over-awing of the younger rival.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Railroads—a great system—an empire in itself," +said Slade; and there came in his eyes a flash +of the enthusiast which surprised her. But, +unwilling to enlarge on this topic, he continued: "What +I've said sounds raw, doesn't it? So it is. If I do +what I want, I justify myself. There are only two +classes of human beings—those like you two here, +who get through life with the most pleasure you can, +who get through—pass through; and then a few, +a handful, who create something—an empire, like +Rhodes, invent a locomotive or a system of electric +production, add something to human history. What +if they steal, or grind out the lives of others? +They're the only ones who count. And the public +knows it—it forgives everything to greatness; it's +only petty crime it hates. Look at the sympathy a +murderer gets on trial—look at the respect a great +manipulator gets. Why? Because to murder and +steal are natural human instincts. A couple of +thousand years ago, it was a praiseworthy act for one +ancestor, who coveted a hide or a cave that another +ancestor had, to go out and kill him. All animals steal +by instinct. We are only badly educated animals, +and we admire in others what we don't dare do +ourselves. Only succeed—succeed! Ah, there is the +whole of it!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the telephone rang, and Slade rose +and went to it with a little more emotion than he +usually showed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this the cause of his outburst?" thought Mrs. Kildair, +while she and Beecher instinctively remained +silent.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the end of a short moment, Slade returned. +The two observers, who glanced at him quickly, +could not find the slightest clue of what had +transpired. Only he seemed more composed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Speaking of stealing, take the case of the ring," +he said, relaxing in a chair. "We know this—incredible +as it may seem—that there were at least +two thieves in the company; as a matter of fact, +there were many more. My own opinion is that the +crime was not an ordinary one—that whoever took +it the second time took it out of an uncontrollable +spirit of bravado, an overpowering impulse to do an +almost impossible thing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way—" Beecher began, and then suddenly +looked at Mrs. Kildair interrogatively. Then, +receiving permission, he continued: "You know +who returned that night?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade nodded.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yourself, Mrs. Cheever, Garraboy, and Miss +Charters."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Charters?" said Beecher, turning in +amazement to Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded, with a little frown.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"As I told Mrs. Kildair," said Slade, not noticing +that Beecher, overwhelmed by this discovery, did not +hear him, "I do not believe for a moment that the +thief would return. Any one who had the daring to +seize the ring the second time had the daring to carry +off the ring; in fact, had some such plan in mind. +Whoever came back may have come back out of sympathy, +or with the idea that the ring was still in the +studio—in which case, we have a third +manifestation of instinct."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They had passed into the studio again. Slade +spoke with all his old decision, the energy of action +replacing the bitterness of his former meditative +mood. He glanced at the clock, and took his leave +in a quick, impersonal manner. Beecher, ignoring +the looks Mrs. Kildair sent him, departed with Slade, +refusing an invitation to join him in the automobile, +and continuing on foot.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was absolutely at a loss to account for Miss +Charters' returning to the studio after having gone +to her apartment. If she had any suggestion to +offer, why had she not waited, or even requested him +to return with her? Why, in fact, could she not +have waited until the following day—instead of +risking the journey at such an hour?</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Full of disturbing surmises, he continued his walk +until he reached the great thoroughfare of Forty-second +Street, where he turned eastward toward the +station, oblivious to the excitement in the street, the +break-neck arrival of the newspaper wagons and the +sudden, shrill scattering of urchins, extras in hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once, at the western corner of the station, +he raised his eyes instinctively. A coupé with trunks +behind it disengaged itself from the confusion of +traffic and, turning, slowly passed him. Inside, he +recognized the dark, defiant eyes of Mrs. Enos Bloodgood.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In a moment he guessed the full significance of +her presence: she had come to meet Majendie, to +burn all bridges behind her, in the supreme sacrifice +of everything for the possession of a happiness she +had never known.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The next instant he was gazing horror-stricken +at the head-lines of an extra that a newsboy flung in +his face:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><span>SUICIDE OF BERNARD L. MAJENDIE</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>He became perfectly collected, clear in mind and +instinctive in action, with the decision he had felt +in the last charges of a wounded elephant. If +Mrs. Bloodgood were here, it was because she expected to +meet Majendie; because she was ignorant of the +tragedy that had taken place.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Retracing his steps, he arrived at the carriage the +moment Mrs. Bloodgood's hand had thrown open +the door.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me," he said, with an authority which +instantly impressed the woman by its ominous +seriousness. "Something terrible has happened. I +must speak to you." Then, turning to the +coachman, without being overheard, he gave him +Mrs. Kildair's address, saying: "Drive there quickly. +Five dollars to you if you get me there in ten minutes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Then he opened the door and joined the woman +who, drawn back in the corner like an animal at bay, +already trembling with what she did not know, +awaited him.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>For an interval, while the coachman, spurred on +by the prospect of reward, tore through the +short streets, Beecher continued looking into +Mrs. Bloodgood's eyes—eyes that were aghast with +mute, terrified interrogations which she did not dare +to phrase.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly she perceived the extra which he had +bought. She extended her hand, looking at it +fearfully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it to me," she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He hesitated, and in the moment of irresolution +she seized it. A cry of pain, a low cry torn from the +soul, made him stiffen in his seat, steeling himself +against the expected. But no further sound came. +When he turned, she was sitting transfixed, staring +wide-eyed at the newspaper which seemed glued to +her fingers. Alarmed at the rigidity of her emotion, +he leaned over and disengaged the paper from her +unresisting fingers. The action seemed abruptly to +revive her. She gave another cry, and tore the +newspaper from him with such energy that a great, +ill-shaped fragment remained in her clutch.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, not that—no, no!" she cried, frantically +seeking to decipher the bare six lines that +recorded the tragedy. All at once she flung the sheet +from her, turning to read the truth in his face.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, it is true!" she cried, and her hand, as +though holding him guilty of the fact, violently +pushed him from her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bloodgood—" Beecher began hesitatingly, +frightened at the paroxysm that shook her body.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But the emotion was still of horror, without as yet +the realization of the finality that had come. She +felt that Majendie was in danger—in terrible +danger; that she must get to him, somehow, some way, +and fling herself in front of that awful something +that threatened him, ward off, in some way prevent, +the thing that was coming. She seized the arm of +the terrified young man, imploring him, still dry-eyed:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Take me to him—at once—no—I must—take +me—Bernard—oh!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She fell back exhausted, faint.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Be calm; please be calm," he repeated, helpless +before the utter disorder of her suffering.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once the annihilation of self into which she +had fallen was succeeded by a quick paroxysm of +energy. She bounded upright on the seat, seizing his +arm so that the nails hurt him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I will go to him!" she cried. "You shall not +stop me. He may be only wounded. The report is +false—must be false. I will go to him!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The very thing that you must not do—that you +can not do," he said firmly; and then, seized with +an inspiration, he added: "Listen—listen to me, +Mrs. Bloodgood, I am taking you to Rita's; if you +must go to him, go with her. Two women can go; +one would cause a great scandal. You can not put +that on him—you must think of him now. We +are going to Rita's—Rita's!" he added, putting his +lips to her ears to make her hear him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He put his hand on her shoulder and forced her +gently back. She held her clasped hands rigidly +strained between her knees, staring out beyond the +confines of the carriage.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not dead," she said in a whisper; "he +is wounded."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"As soon as we get to Rita's," he continued +reassuringly, "I will telephone. I'll find out +everything."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wounded," she repeated, nodding—without +hearing him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If he is, we three can go—it will seem quite +natural," he said hastily, eying nervously her dry, +uncomprehending grief, fearing the coming outburst +of realization.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Almost there," he said, looking out of the +window. "Hold on to yourself. Be game. There +are always a few persons below."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She did not answer, but her lips curled slightly +in contempt, and she put her hand spasmodically to +her throat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're right, the whole thing may be false—a +wild rumor," he said quickly, talking to her as to +a child. "A fake story—who knows? See, there +are no details. Here we are. A little courage! +Go right into the elevator."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He signaled the driver to wait, and followed her +hastily into the elevator, standing between her bowed +figure and the boy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair was in the studio, pacing the floor; +and at the first glance each saw that she knew the +report, and that it was true. Mrs. Bloodgood +crumpled on the floor, without consciousness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My smelling-salts are on my bureau," said Mrs. Kildair +quickly. "Lift her on the sofa first, and +then get them."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it true?" he said, raising the slender, +lifeless body.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When did it happen?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At two o'clock."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She wishes to go to him," he said warningly. +"The carriage is below. She has her trunks. She +was to have met him at the station. What shall I do?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She must be gotten back to her house as soon +as possible," said Mrs. Kildair with energy. "The +trunks must return at once. Everything hangs on +a hair; I know Bloodgood." She cast a glance at +the still inanimate body and added: "Wait. Spirits +of ammonia will be better. I'll get it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bloodgood returned to consciousness slowly, +looking from one to the other with a dazed, +pleading look.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it is so," she said at last.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The two looked at her without being able to +answer. Suddenly she bounded up erect, her fists +striking her forehead.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is I who have done it!" she cried, and for +the second time fell back lifeless on the floor.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Go down now; send the trunks back," said +Mrs. Kildair to Beecher. "Tell him to do it as +quickly as possible—no, tell him nothing. Go +quickly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When Beecher returned, Mrs. Bloodgood was on +her feet again, passing from spot to spot ceaselessly, +one hand clutching a handkerchief to press back the +sobs that shook her from time to time, the other +stretched out in front of her, beating a mechanical +time to the one phrase which she repeated again and +again:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I've done it—I've done it—I've done it!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair, leaning by the piano, knowing that +each period must have its expression, awaited the +right moment. Beecher, at a sign from her, +slipped quietly into a chair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it's I—it's I—I!" said the indistinguishable +voice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have done nothing," said Mrs. Kildair +solemnly. "It is fate."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. Only I am to blame," she answered, +stopping short, each word coming slowly through +the torrents of tears.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair passed quietly to her side.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not to blame, dear," she said; "don't +think that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you don't know," she said, suddenly acquiring +a terrible calm that froze the young man. +"At what time did he—did it happen?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At two."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew it! Ten minutes before, he telephoned +me; he said—oh, what do I know?—said a thousand +things but the one in his mind. Asked me if +I still was resolved to go."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But then, Elise—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't understand! It was I who insisted +on his going—I—I! I told him, if he would not +go, I would come openly to his house—I would not +be separated from him. Oh, my God! I didn't +know—I didn't!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She abandoned herself to her transports once +more, flinging herself on her knees and praying, as +an uncomprehending child prays:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"O God, don't let it be true—please don't let it +be so!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher covered his eyes suddenly with his hands. +Mrs. Kildair allowed her for a moment to tire herself +in supplication and anguish. Then she went to +her, grasping her shoulder.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bloodgood stopped, rose, and went to the +window, where she stood swaying.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to him," she said, pressing her +knuckles against her temples.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Get hold of yourself," said Mrs. Kildair, +avoiding the error of opposition.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>For a long moment neither spoke, while Mrs. Bloodgood, +passing to and fro, struggled to fight +down the sobs that were choking her. At last she +stopped, facing Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going to him," she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The other woman, with a look of great compassion, +shook her head in a slow negation, looking full +at her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But he said I could!" she cried, stretching out +her hands toward Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But he said so—he promised."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No; it is impossible."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> go!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There are twenty reporters waiting for just +that," Said Mrs. Kildair. Then, raising her voice, +she said impressively: "Elise, there is something you +must do—something ten times more terrible."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Return home—and at once."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Never!" The cry burst from her as her whole +body was shaken with indignation. "Never in the +world—never again!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen," said Mrs. Kildair, seizing her arm, and +Beecher was struck with the savageness of her +energy. "Things are no longer the same. You +are alone—absolutely alone. Do you understand +what that means—without a cent—alone?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do I care?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not now; but in a week, in a month— You +think you know the greatest suffering in the world; +you don't—the greatest is poverty. Whatever has +happened, you are Mrs. Enos Bloodgood. Only +yourself can destroy that. One life is ended in +you. You have loved. That will never come +again—not the same. Life is long and terrible."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What, you can suggest such a thing?" said +Mrs. Bloodgood, raising her head indignantly. "Such an +infamy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—because I know. The world is not an +equal one. A woman can not fight as a man can. +A year from now, when you can suffer no further, +do you want to wake up in a dingy boarding-house, +cut off from all you have lived in? For a great +love—perhaps—but to be alone? No, no! Elise, +you will do as I say because I can see better than +you. You are Mrs. Enos Bloodgood—you have +everything that a million women covet. It is your +life; you will go back."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, how can you say that to me now?" said +Mrs. Bloodgood, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because the world is different from the world +of this morning—because everything is different, +Elise. There are no longer the reasons that existed. +You are alone against the world. You know your +husband—one public word or action, and he will +cast you off like an old shoe."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I go back?" she said, sitting down, +half subdued. "How can I get the strength? I +don't know yet what has happened. I can't realize +it—oh, if I had only had my way! If he had only +let me leave a month—two months ago. If I'd +only been firm; if we had gone that night—that +night we were here—when I begged him to. If he +had only loved me more than his honor, as I loved +him. If only I—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise," said the quiet voice of Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The young woman checked herself, breaking off +and moving again; but almost immediately broke out +again:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And now you want me to go back to </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>. Oh, +if you knew how I hate him, how I loathe him—what +that life means—how cruel he can be, how +he can make me suffer by a word or a look—how +he enjoys—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise, Elise!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't go, Rita, I can't! Don't ask me to go +now. Let me stay a while here, just tonight, where +I can weep," she cried.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. It must be now—soon. You have +left your home with your trunks—he knows it. If +you return—you return because you are worried—the +panic—on his account."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, what a lie!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise," said Mrs. Kildair, coming forward again +and arresting the other's arm, "listen. You are +not what I am. You are not strong—you are +weak. You are a woman of the world, worldly, +loving worldly things, who for a moment has been +transformed by a great passion. The whole earth +has no such passion any longer. Do you understand? +Something is gone—your youth is ended. +Keep tight hold of the little that is left. Come, be +strong. Dissimulate as you have before. Come."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not now," said Mrs. Bloodgood, terrified.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, now. If possible, you must be back +before he returns."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And Beecher, from his chair where he had +watched, forgotten by both women, saw Mrs. Kildair, +who not for a moment had deviated from the +vital issue, draw the unresisting woman by the very +force of her energy into the bedroom, from which +shortly they emerged again.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am ready," said Mrs. Bloodgood in a voice +that was scarcely distinguishable. She had thrown +over her head a thick veil, behind which her features +were only dimly visible.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Telephone for a carriage," said Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have done so," said Beecher, who had availed +himself of the interval.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But the trunks?" said Mrs. Bloodgood, turning +helplessly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They went back long ago."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" She took a few weak steps and turned. +"But I shall see him?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I give you my word."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tonight?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tonight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bloodgood made a little sign of acquiescence, +and passed out of the door. The carriage was +waiting. Beecher silently handed her into it, feeling +the sudden heaviness on his arm. They rolled away. +She did not lift her veil, and he could not guess what +look was on her face. Twice she made him change +their course, in order to put off the final dreaded +moment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been kind," she said at last. "I owe +you much. Thank you. Now I will go back."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't speak of thanks at such a time," he said +hastily. "If I can help you in any way, any +time—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know." All at once, forgetting his presence, +she burst out: "Oh, how I loved him! I would have +done anything for him—anything! I can't believe +it. It doesn't seem possible!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Be careful, Mrs. Bloodgood," he said, alarmed. +"Be careful—please."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You need have no fear," she said slowly. "All +that is over." But, still obsessed, she seized his arm. +"Only I want you to know that I loved him so that +nothing made any difference. Any one can know +it. I would have gone—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it," he said quickly, taking her hand to +quiet her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, I loved him—the only real thing in +my life!" she repeated, sinking back.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Ahead he saw the great Italian façade of the +Bloodgood residence, where twenty servants awaited +the call of this shadow at his side, whose invitation +could make a social reputation. Then his quick eye, +as they neared the steps, perceived the squat, stolid +figure of Mr. Enos Bloodgood at the door.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He is just come out—your husband," he said +hurriedly, with a sudden new sensation of dread. +And he repeated, a little excitement in his voice, +fearing she did not understand the danger: "Be +careful; he is there—your husband."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I saw him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She took the veil from her hat, and, folding it, +handed it to him, her face set in hardness and +contempt.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You might say Mrs. Kildair had invited—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know what to say," she said, checking him, +and a smile incongruous at the moment gave the last +touch of tragedy to the imagination of her +companion. "Open the door."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He gazed at her, struck with the strange, dual +personality in the frail, proud body—the abandon +of the woman who loved and the calm of the woman +who hated. She who a moment before had cared +nothing for what she revealed to him in the +unrestraint of her sorrow, did not hesitate now a +moment, face to face with the peril of such a +confrontation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Open the door," she repeated sharply.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Recalled to his senses, he sprang out and gave +her his hand, accompanying her to the chiseled +marble steps, where he left her, with a lift of his +hat to the husband above who awaited her with a +quiet, cynical enjoyment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought, my dear, you had gone off for a jolly +little jaunt," said Mr. Bloodgood, without variation +in the provoking evenness of his voice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She came up the steps to his level, and acknowledged +his presence with an inclination of her head.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I intended to," she said, in the same ceremonious +tone. "But I was so alarmed at the news from +Wall Street that I did not wish to leave you at such +a time."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed? I am quite touched," he answered, +with perfect solemnity. "You are always so +thoughtful, my dear."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She entered. He followed her as though shutting +off all retreat, and the gorgeous flunky who had +run out disappeared, too. To Beecher, with all the +anguish of the scene at Rita Kildair's still vivid in +his mind, it was as though he had seen a living +woman enter her appointed tomb.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where shall I drive, sir?" said the driver.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Anywhere!" he cried furiously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But at the end of five minutes he emerged from +the stupor into which he had been plunged, the +somber horror rolling away like scudding +storm-clouds. A new emotion—the inevitable personal +application—broke over him like a ray of light.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"To be loved like that—" he thought suddenly, +with a feeling of envy. "Terrible, terrible—and +yet how marvelous!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He gave directions to drive to Nan Charters' with +a new curiosity in his soul—the inevitable personal +emotion that, strangely enough, even against his +will, dominated all the somber melancholy which +this reverse of a glittering medal had brought him.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>He had completely forgotten, in the press of +dramatic events, the disturbing fact of Nan +Charters' return the night of the theft. He remembered +it suddenly, as one remembers sorrow after a +profound sleep. But the recalling of it affected him +differently. The revelation of Mrs. Bloodgood's +hidden life had left him in a dangerous and +vulnerable mood—a mood of quickened compassion and +outgoing sympathy. He was still determined to +force a direct answer from Miss Charters, but +already he had formed that answer in his heart, as +he for the hour felt no longer the selfish combat of +vanity, but the need of charity and gentleness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In one of the profound moods which color the +visible world, he stood at the window of the little +sitting-room, awaiting her arrival, looking out on +the serried flight of unutterably commonplace roofs, +gray and drab with the gray of the turning day. +And it seemed to him that this twilight was different +from other twilights, heavily weighted down with +more of the sadness of inexplicable lives. One +tragedy seemed to invoke a thousand tragedies, in +the cramped immobility of these inscrutable +windows which had not yet begun to warm with the +flicker of human cheer. He saw only the brutal +struggle to live, and felt only the mystery of +suffering, which was still a thing apart from his life. +Standing reverently thus, he asked himself two +questions which, sooner or later, each man of heart and +sensibility puts to himself in the awakening to +conscious existence:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do they go on?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What is my justification?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And in his heart, still young and stirred to +sympathy, he felt the beginning of a revolt at what he +had been, at his inability to find a satisfying answer +to that second question. He no longer awaited the +interview in the spirit of strife, but with a sudden +feeling of impulsive friendliness which, had he been +an older man, might have alarmed him with its +dangers. The profound melancholy of youth, violent +because unconquered and strange, had him still in +its grip when, all at once, he felt an emotion of +well-being and returning comfort.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She came into the room and without formal greeting +gave him her hand with a welcome in her eyes, +as though their friendship were of such strong +duration that formalities were out of place.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Draw the curtains," she said, going to the +electric lamp on the table, which woke like a golden +sun from the shadows. "It's cozier. Shall we +light the fire? Yes, it's more cheery."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me," he said hastily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite unnecessary."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He watched her sudden stooping movement, that +brought the loose, intricate tea-gown about her agile +body, outlining the limbs, which had the quick +animal grace that is peculiar to the unconquered +maiden. Her pose, strong and alive with power +and self-reliance, recalled to him sharply the sense +of opposition. He was annoyed that she should +have done so naturally what he should have done, +feeling in her too much self-reliance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She rose, looking down with a childish delight +at the sudden burst and roar of the flame. Then +she turned, studying his face. The artist in her +made her quickly aware of the remnants of the +emotion which had stirred him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" she said, with the gentleness that +was tantalizing to him. "You have a strange look."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he answered; "I have been behind the scenes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been with Mrs. Bloodgood all the +afternoon—found her at the station as she was leaving."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bloodgood was running away," she said, +puzzled, but with a fear in her eyes that did not +escape him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What—you did not know!" he exclaimed. +"Majendie killed himself this afternoon at two +o'clock."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Majendie—Mrs. Bloodgood!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him a moment with a face struck +with horror, and then fell back into a chair, seized +with the suddenness of the climax.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon; I thought you knew," he +blurted out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no—nothing. Tell me—tell me all," she +said; and he saw that back of her alarm was a +significance to her that heightened the effect of the +tragedy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He told her first the bare details of the suicide as +he knew them; and then, in response to her hurried +questions, began to retell the afternoon. He spoke +impulsively, almost as an echo of the drama he had +witnessed. Occasionally she stopped him with a +more detailed question. Moved out of his +self-consciousness, he described, more eloquently than he +knew, the conflict between the two women at +Mrs. Kildair's, and the emotions which had suddenly +brought him wide-eyed to the spectacle of the black, +turbulent river of despair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't forget it—it haunts me now," he said, +when he had ended with Mrs. Bloodgood's return +into the home of her husband. "It makes me see +something in life I didn't understand—that I am +just beginning to see."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her. Her face was wet with tears. +All at once, astonished, he recalled what he had told.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What have I done?" he cried, aghast. "I had +no right to repeat it. I didn't realize what I was +saying!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't fear," she said, shuddering, and she +extended her hands to the fire, as though the recital +had frozen her body. "Poor woman—poor, +lonely woman!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down near her, close to the fire, and, +stretching out his hand, touched her arm.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, Nan," he said, so profoundly that she +could not mistake the emotion. "It has made a +great difference in me. It may be a mood—it may +pass; but I hope it won't. It makes me dissatisfied. +Look here—I don't want to go on as we have, +thrusting and parrying. I don't want it to be just +a game. The real feeling in me toward a woman is +different—it's one of chivalry, I know. Let's drop +all artifices. Let's be honest with each other—good +friends, or something else, as it may come."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She considered the depths of the fire a moment, +and turned, looking at him dreamily, feeling how +much older she was in the knowledge of the doubts +of the world than the young, impulsive nature that +looked out at her from such honest eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you?" he asked, as she looked away again.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head, in doubt as to an answer; but +the good in her stirred by the good in him expressed +itself in the quick pressure of thanks which her hand +conveyed to him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not the least in love," he said quickly. +"What I say I say because—oh, I don't know! +I'm dissatisfied with myself. This thing has gotten +below my skin. Life's too rotten. I want you to +believe in me—in my strength. You are +sympathetic—</span><em class="italics">multa sympatica</em><span>. I don't know; I hate +to think of your fighting alone such a rotten hard +fight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded slowly, understanding perhaps better +than he his thought, yet half won to his appeal +already.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She took his hand in both of hers, pressing it in +emphasis from time to time, not looking at him, +staring at something that formed before her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No one has ever spoken to me just like this," +she said gently. "One thing I would never want +to happen, Teddy—I would never want to hurt +you! That is why I hesitate—why I am afraid. +You are only a great big boy. You won't +understand me. I am very selfish—very worldly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are nothing of the sort," he said furiously, +withdrawing his hand. "You may think so, but I +know you better."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned, amused; but her smile left her as she +looked into his eyes. To her surprise, a feeling of +unease came to her; she felt a new longing—to be +for a moment quite childlike and helpless.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't blunder into anything, Teddy," she answered, +shaking her head, herself a little disturbed. +"With some men I would not care. With you—yes, +it would make me feel like a criminal to hurt you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He understood that she was warning him of the +futility of expecting to find in her a woman. But +if she had calculated, which she had not, on any +move surer to arouse him, she could have found no +better expedient. The impossibility implied, coupled +with the impulsive generosity in her voice, made her +a thousand times more desirable. He rose brusquely, +and, standing with his back to the fire, looked +down at the dramatic face, which the flames lighted +with the flare of footlights.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There are certain things that we must understand +together," he said with authority, obeying the +instinct which told him that to succeed he must take +the upper hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyebrows came together in a straight flight.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not hesitated to trust in you—you must +in me. Tell me. You have reason to suspect that +Mrs. Bloodgood took the ring—at least, the first +time?"</span></p> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 65%" id="figure-65"> +<span id="i-have-not-hesitated-to-trust-in-youyou-must-in-me"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'I have not hesitated to trust in you—you must in me'"" src="images/img-178.jpg" /> +<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> +<span class="italics">"'I have not hesitated to trust in you—you must in me'"</span></div> +</div> +<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head, but without anger.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you understand," he said quickly, "that +I must know why you acted as you did?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Still her only answer was a deep-taken breath.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I swear to you, if Mrs. Bloodgood did take it," +he said, "I would not condemn her. On the +contrary, I would pity her."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should Mrs. Bloodgood, who has millions, +do such a thing?" she said quietly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because, from what I know, Mrs. Bloodgood, +who has millions, as the wife of Enos Bloodgood, +has not as much money in her pocket as you or I." He +stopped. "She took it to have some means of +escape, didn't she?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she did not take it," she answered, but in a +tone that brought no conviction.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, I know that you returned to Mrs. Kildair's +that night," he said, irritated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you know?" she said quickly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair told me—no, that's not true; some +one else did."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair herself called me on the telephone +and asked me to come," she said slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And questioned you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"As to what you had seen?" he said, with a great +feeling of relief that should have warned him of +his true interest.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you answer?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She rose and approached him, looking at him with +only friendliness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If the ring is not restored in two weeks," she +said, "then I will tell you what you wish to know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You think that, if Mrs. Bloodgood took it, she +will now have no use for it," he persisted, seizing +the idea.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know nothing at all," she answered, emphasizing +the "know." "This promise must satisfy you. +I only have a suspicion, and I don't want to do an +injustice to another—remember that. I have never +said it was Mrs. Bloodgood I suspected. Now I +want to talk to you about my own affairs."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was covered with contrition that he should +have forgotten her difficulties.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens!" he said hastily. "What have +I been thinking of? Please don't think I don't care; +I've been in such a whirl—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She checked him with a gesture and a smile, +motioning him to sit down again.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you had any word?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, it's a terrible day on the Street," +he hastened to reply. "Everything's up in the +air—they're like a lot of lunatics. Garraboy hasn't +had time to think. That oughtn't to alarm you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I left word at his office for him to telephone +me, and it is now," she said, glancing at the clock, +"an hour and a half since the close."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There are probably a hundred inquiries of the +same sort awaiting him," he said to reassure her. +"What are you afraid of?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know—and yet I am a little anxious. +Suppose he has used my stocks? Such things +happen every day."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The best thing is to find out at once how Garraboy +stands—if he's been caught in the drop or not. +Then we can take our measures."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How'll you do that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Call up Bruce Gunther and get him on the trail. +May I telephone?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do so."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He's probably at the club now," he said, taking +up the receiver and giving a number. "Yes, he's +in. That's lucky. I'll get him in a moment." Then +he added irritably: "How the deuce did you +ever come to deal with Garraboy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I've known him ever since I came to New +York. I wanted to invest some money—I didn't +know any one else; and then, he was +very—friendly; wanted to make some money for me. +That's how it was."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello," said Beecher. "Is that you, Bruce? +It's I—Ted."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where the deuce have you been?" said the voice +at the other end. "I've been trying to get you all +over town."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You bet I have; McKenna's turned up a real +clue—wants to see you at once. Pick me up here +at the club, will you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"All right. But say, Bruce, I want you to do +something for me. Find out all you can about +Garraboy—you know, the fellow we spoke about. +Has he been on the wrong side of the market or not? +Understand? It's important."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll do it. Anything else?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. A friend of mine has some stocks with +him, about twenty thousand worth—you see the +situation—and she's a little bit worried. Can't get +any satisfaction."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wants 'em back?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. What's the best way to do?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Um! Get a transfer to you and call for them +tomorrow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course; see you later."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He put down the telephone and turned gaily to +his companion, who was waiting with anxiety.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right. Bruce will get the information +and I'll telephone you this evening. Now, the +best way to operate is this." He took out his +check-book and wrote a check for twenty thousand dollars +to her name. "I'll buy those stocks. Here's my +check; give me an acknowledgment for the shares, +with an order on Garraboy to deliver."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him doubtfully, holding the check +gingerly in her fingers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter?" he said. "If there's any +little difference one way or the other, we can arrange +that later."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Supposing Garraboy has failed and sold my stocks?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He hasn't."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But if he has?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's my risk," he started to say, but checked +himself. "Why, of course, then it's off. This is +just to give me the power to get them away at once. +A man can do what a woman can't."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She was grateful to him for his perception of +delicacy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"On that basis, yes," she said. Then she stopped +and looked at him with a whimsical but favoring +smile. "As it is, Teddy, what do you know of me +to take even this chance?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The opening was too direct. She saw it at once, +and, to forestall his answer, said more lightly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a great service. Tell me what to write."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As she was drawing up the paper under his directions, +a placid, emotionless woman of forty entered +from the rear.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That Mr. Hargrave is here, Nan dear," she +said. "You gave him an appointment, you know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Tilbury, my companion," said Miss Charters. +"Very well; in a moment."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Tilbury passed patiently out to deliver the +message. Beecher was delighted with the correctness +and cold respectability of such a chaperon.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Hargrave is a young dramatist," said Miss +Charters, finishing the document. "He's coming to +read some masterpiece to me. He wrote a one-act +piece three years ago that was very clever, and now, +of course, I can't risk refusing to hear him—he +might have a work of genius at last. This is my +fourth trial." She put the paper from her +impatiently. "I'm sorry."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was displeased also at this sudden recall of +the other life in her, the world of the theater, which +crowded the walls with its signed photographs.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll telephone as soon as I know," he said, +dissembling his irritation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She went to the door with him, annoyed also at +the interruption.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm coming tomorrow," he said, and he held +out his hand with a little defiance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She did not resent the assumption of right, still +introspectively puzzled at the new moods into which +she had fallen. And, still pensive, she said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Below, in the anteroom, he sent a look of +antagonism and scorn at a young man, a little +extravagantly dressed, who carried a portfolio under +his arm with a sense, too, of irritation and pride.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xiii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>When he had gone into the brisk air of the +street, his mental vision returned with the +crispness of the night. He was astonished at what +he had said and done.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I am not in love—not in the least," he +repeated. "Then what was it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was quite perplexed at perceiving the astonishing +difference her presence and her absence made in +his attitude. He repeated to himself quite seriously +with a little wonder that, if he were in danger of +falling in love, he would be a prey to that +disturbing emotion now, absent as well as present.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am perfectly calm," he said, flourishing his +cane. "Not in the least excited. It's very queer."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All the same, he returned to the interview, and +recalled the incidents without illusion. He +comprehended now what he had not comprehended then, +the full significance of his offer of friendship—in +fact, that it was not an approach to friendship but +to something very different, and the relations which +had now been established between them were those +of confidence and intimacy that lay on the +borderline of great emotions.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very odd," he said, "I wish to be honest +and open with her, and yet I said what I don't +feel—suggested what I have not the least thought of. +I'll be hanged if I understand it, unless she has the +power to make me believe in emotions that don't +exist,—Emma Fornez was right, she is the type +that provokes you. I must be very careful."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But one thing he did not perceive—that the city +no longer oppressed him with its bleak struggle and +serried poverty, that he swung lightly over the crisp +pavements, breathing the alert and joyous air, that +in him the joy of living awakened, as the myriad +lights awoke the city of the night, the city rising +from the fatigue of labor with its avid zest for +pleasure and excitement.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the clue McKenna's got hold of?" he +thought eagerly, as the massive, cheery windows of +the club came into view across the stirring, +care-fleeing homeward rush of the Avenue.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The moment he entered the crowded anteroom, +the tragic day returned with redoubled gloom. The +death of Majendie oppressed every voice—nothing +else was discussed. He found himself caught up in +the crowd at the bar, listening with a strange sense +of irony to those who touched in haphazard the event +which he knew so profoundly. The wildest rumors +were current. Majendie had shot himself after the +discovery of an enormous shortage in the funds of +the Atlantic Trust. The Atlantic Trust had been +looted, the effect on Wall Street had been to +confirm the wildest rumors, the market would plunge +down to-morrow, the awful loss of the day would +be surpassed; it was the panic of '93 over again. +The inevitable mysterious informant in the crowd +arrived with a new rumor: Majendie had tried to +escape, had been prevented by detectives, who had +been shadowing him for days, and had then gone in +and shot himself just as the warrant for his arrest +arrived. Another gave this version; Majendie had +not shot himself, he had been murdered.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Every one exclaimed at this.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the story in the Associated Press offices," +continued the informant obstinately. "A man +whose whole fortune was locked up in the Atlantic—a +small depositor—got into the house on some +pretext, and shot him—crazy, of course. It's not +been verified, but that's the story."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell you what I heard," said another, in a low +voice, to a group that eddied about him. "It's true +he was shot, but he wasn't shot in his own home. +He was shot last night in his box at the opera by +a man who is as well known as old Fontaine. The +old story, of course, trespassing in married quarters. +The whole thing was kept dark—got him out of the +box after the crowd went out, and took him home, +where he died at midnight. Heard the names in the +case, but pledged not to repeat them."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Each rumor received a momentary credence, in +the excitement of the moment. Some one defending +the personal friend, insisted on melancholia and +despondency, citing the example of an uncle who had +taken his life after the disgrace of his son. No one +spoke the name of Mrs. Bloodgood, waiting the +moment of confidences </span><em class="italics">à trois</em><span>. In the stupefaction of +the moment, even the personal losses, which had been +tremendous, were momentarily forgotten. Gradually +inquiries began to be made as to the extent of +the panic. Then at once a division was apparent. +There was already the party of the shorts, eager and +vociferous, staking their last chance of recouping +on a still wider spread of the devastating drop, which +they now as ardently desired as though a thousand +homes would not suffer for every point acquired.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher separated himself from these enthusiasts +of failure, and passed into the front room, where +he was signaled by Gunther, who was in one of the +numerous small groups. He found a chair and +joined the party, in which were Fontaine, Lynch, +and Steve Plunkett. The conversation, which was +controversial, continued without interruption.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be an ass, Ed," said Lynch, with irritation; +"nothing can stop the market."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The Atlantic Trust is as solvent as Gunther & +Co.," insisted Fontaine, with a nervous, emphatic +gesture. "Every depositor will be paid in full."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It'll be in the hands of a receiver before the +week's over—bet you five to three."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly; but then—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Moreover, what of the public? What's the public +going to do when it hears Majendie's committed +suicide? What'll it think? It'll think the whole +blamed institution is rotten to the core—looted!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said Plunkett, and he added savagely, +his glance lost in the distance: "Damn it, if I'd +known the news an hour earlier, I could have made +fifty thousand."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, look at the situation," continued Bo +Lynch, excited by his own images. "The Clearing-house +closed against the Associated Trust and all +its allies; runs on banks all over the country; Slade +forced to the wall, out of it in a couple of days, +perhaps—God knows, another suicide, maybe; two +failures up into the hundreds of millions—everything +in the country thrown on the market! Look +at the sales to-day; they'll be doubled to-morrow. +Nothing can hold out against it. The country'll go +crazy! I tell you, '93 was nothing to it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther rose.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think, Bruce?" said Plunkett +anxiously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know a thing about it," said Gunther +brusquely. "Neither does Eddie or Bo. If you +want to gamble, gamble."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded to Beecher, and they moved out together.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's cut out of this den of lunatics," he said. +"My machine's here; supposing we run down to +McKenna's and get him off for a quiet chop. I've +already telephoned."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He's got some news?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but I don't know what it is. Jump in."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What about Garraboy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Rumor is, he's in heavy. McKenna's looking +that up, too."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Bruce, what do you really think about +the situation?" said Beecher, forced to contain his +curiosity. "Are we going to the bow-wows?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If you ask what I </span><em class="italics">think</em><span>," said Gunther meditatively, +"I think it's the devil to pay. Far as I +can see, a lot depends on John G. Slade. There's +no doubt there's a crowd after his scalp."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Will they get it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Looks so; but he's got nine lives, they say."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where the deuce are we going?" said Beecher, +suddenly aware of the swift flight through the now +deserted regions of the lower city.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Down to McKenna's offices."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"As late as this?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Guess these days keep him pretty busy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't he say anything about his clue?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Said he'd traced the history of the stone."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They soon came to a stop in one of the blocks on +Broadway within a stone's throw of old Trinity, +and, descending, entered a dingy four-story +building pinched in among the skyscrapers. At the +second flight of worm-eaten stairs, Gunther pushed +open a smoky glass door and entered a short +antechamber inclosed in sanded glass with sliding +pigeon-holes for observation. Their arrival being expected, +they were immediately shown down a contracted +hallway studded with doors, to an open room, +comfortably furnished, with a fire burning in the grate.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Join you in a moment, gentlemen," said McKenna, +nodding around the door of the adjoining room.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther unceremoniously helped himself at the +open box of cigars.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ted," he said enthusiastically, "why the deuce +do the novelists concoct their absurdly stalking +detectives, who deduce everything at a glance, with +their impossible logical processes? Don't they see +the real thing is so much bigger? It's not the fake +individual mind that's wonderful; it's the system—this +system. A great agency like this is simply +an expression of society itself—organized order +against unorganized disorder. It's an unending +struggle, and the odds are all on one side. By +George, what impresses me is the completeness with +which society has organized itself—made use of +all inventions, telephone, telegraph, the photograph, +the press, everything turned on the criminal to run +him down. For a hundred detectives employed here, +there are a thousand allies, in every trade, in every +depot, in every port, along every line of travel. +When you think of the agencies that McKenna can +stir up by a word, then you begin to realize the +significance of the detective in the structure of +society."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna, who had heard the last words, entered, +vitally alert and physically excited by the joy of +unusual labor.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I'm with you," he said, appropriating an +easy-chair. "Let's see where we'll begin. Oh, +Mr. Beecher, you wanted certain information about that +broker Garraboy, didn't you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you found out?" said Beecher, with +a conscious eagerness that struck both hearers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It just so happened I had a line on your man +from another direction," said McKenna. "Well, +he's hit the market right. What would have +happened if this panic hadn't come just right, is +another question—a rather interesting question. +However, Garraboy's known to have been heavy on +the short side, and, from all reports, stands to make +a killing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Miss Charters' stocks are all right?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They're all right—yes—now," said McKenna +carefully; "but my advice is to get hold of +them—P.D.Q. Mr. Garraboy is somewhat of a gambler. +Now, here's a bit of history about a certain ruby that +will interest you," he continued, drawing out a +memorandum. In his manner was a little amused +self-satisfaction, as one who relished the mystification of +the outsiders. "In the first place, your ruby ring +is not worth fifteen thousand."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" said Beecher in amazement.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's worth considerably more," said the detective, +with a grin. "Its last sale was at the price of +thirty-two thousand dollars."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" said both young men in chorus.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Just that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But then, why should Mrs. Kildair value it at +fifteen?" exclaimed Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's rather an interesting point," said +McKenna, "and we'll touch on that later. The stone +is as well known in the trade as John L. Sullivan to +you and me. It was first sold in New Amsterdam in +the year 1852 to a firm of Parisian jewelers. From +them it was bought for a well-known, rather frisky +lady called La Panthère by a Count d'Ussac, who +ruined himself. La Panthère was killed later by a +South American lover and her effects sold at auction. +The ruby was bought by the firm of Gaspard Frères, +and set in a necklace which was sold to the Princess +de Grandliev. At the fall of the Second Empire, +the necklace was broken up and this particular stone +went over to England, where it was set in a ring +and sold to a young dandy, the Earl of Westmorley, +who was killed steeplechasing. A woman named +Clara Hauk, an adventuress, had the ring in her +possession, and successfully defeated the efforts of +the family to regain it. She got into bad water in +the '80's and sold it to a South African, who +carried it off to the Transvaal with him. It reappeared +in the offices of Gaspard Frères in 1891 on the finger +of a young Austrian woman who sold it for twenty-two +thousand dollars and disappeared without giving +her name. An Italian, the Marchese di Rubino, +bought it for a wedding present to his daughter, who +kept it until 1900, when she pledged it to pay the +gambling debts of her husband. It was then brought +to this country by the wife of a Western rancher, +who sold it five years later to Sontag & Co. The +last sale known was just two months ago."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Two months?" said Beecher, craning forward.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The price, as I said, was thirty-two thousand, +and the purchaser was a certain gentleman very +much before the public now—John G. Slade."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>This announcement was so entirely unexpected +that it left the two young men staring at each other, +absolutely incapable of speech.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But then," said Gunther, the first to recover, +"the ring was given her by Slade!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At a cost of thirty-two thousand," said the +detective in a quick, businesslike tone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are sure?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"As positive as any one can be. There are only +three other rings—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's why she wanted to keep it quiet!" exclaimed +Beecher, rousing himself from his stupor. +The whole machination of Mrs. Kildair became +comprehensible to him on the instant. "Now I see!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely," said McKenna. "Of course there +is a chance that Slade did not give her the ring; that +I'll know tomorrow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Make an inquiry—for a supposed purchaser, +of course; find out if the ring is still at Slade's."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's useless," said Beecher firmly. "I know +that McKenna's right. This explains everything," +he continued, turning to the detective. "That's +why she acted so strangely "—he checked himself. +"I saw Mrs. Kildair—took lunch with her—to-day—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you find out whom she employed?" said +McKenna quietly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher opened his lips to answer in the affirmative, +and stopped abruptly. For the first time, he +realized that Mrs. Kildair had taken back the +address. He rose nervously, frowning at the stupidity +he would be forced to disclose.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, I am an ass!" he said, dropping his +glance; and he related the scene in which Mrs. Kildair +had first given him the address and then taken +it away.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not important, Mr. Beecher," said the +detective pensively, his mind working behind the +recital. "She didn't give you the right address."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know?" said Beecher, turning.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because she recovered the paper as soon as she +found out you were employing me," he answered; +but his mind was still out of the room. He took out +a pencil and began tapping his memorandum with +quick, nervous jots. "Her mind worked pretty +quick," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you want to know her detectives?" +asked Gunther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, the case is complicated," said McKenna, +rousing himself. "I won't go into her relations +with Slade just now, but it's quite evident to any +one they were such that Mrs. Kildair prefers to lose +the ring rather than to have it discovered how it +came to her. See?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I see," said Gunther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, silent, was turning over in his mind all +the incidents of Slade's and Mrs. Kildair's conduct, +striving to reach some explanation but the natural +one that forced itself on him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's why," continued McKenna, "I'd like to +know, first, if the detectives are straight—can be +depended upon; second, if they were told to make +a search; and, third, if they were told not to find +the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But why not?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because, Mr. Gunther, whoever took that ring +the second time didn't take it on impulse or +without a plan; whoever took it probably—I don't say +certainly—knew enough of its history to know that +Slade gave it to Mrs. Kildair, and reckoned on the +fact that she would not dare to make it public. See?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The corners of his eyes contracted suddenly, as +though through the movement of propelling forward +the quick, decisive glance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you think," said Beecher slowly, "that she is—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Mr. Beecher," said the detective +quickly, "there is one thing no human being can +ever say offhand; what says the Bible—the way of +a man with a maid—well, make that woman in +general. You don't know, and I don't know, what +the situation is right there, and we may never know. +All the same, we're now started on solid ground; it +may lead to something, and it may not, but what I +want to know before we get much further is who +and how many there that night knew or guessed +Slade gave her the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said Gunther. "But how—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By patience and by running down every alley +till we find it is an alley," said McKenna. "That's +one thing to keep in mind, and let's put it this way. +Was there any one there that night who had to +have money quick, and who knew that the fact of +Slade's giving the ring would tie Mrs. Kildair's +hands? Now, if that condition existed, we're on a +strong motive."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't consider that the only lead," said +Beecher, convinced as he was of the probability of +Mr. Majendie's participation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord, no. Here's one other point to work on, +Mr. Beecher. What's the situation today between +Slade and Mrs. Kildair? Has there been any +quarrel—say within the last ten days?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think so; and yet—" Beecher stopped, +remembering Mrs. Kildair's curious request for him +to outstay the promoter. "What if there was?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Slade's a remarkable character," said McKenna, +smiling. "Just how remarkable a few people will +learn shortly. If he had quarreled or she's been +trying to trick him—just like him to take the ring +the second time."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By George!" said Gunther. "Why not?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's only something to be kept in the +background," said McKenna, rising.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to Beecher, considering him profoundly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry you told Mrs. Kildair I was on the case," +he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher blushed at the memory of the way in +which he had been brought to disclose the information, +and the confusion all at once revealed to the +detective the probable means she had taken.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the door opened and a voice called him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Telephone, sir—personal."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When the detective had left, Beecher and Gunther +looked at each other in amazement in which a +curious doubt was beginning to form.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why the deuce should Slade give her the ring, +Ted?" said Gunther abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," Beecher answered, perplexed. +"I know what you think—that's natural; but I +don't believe it. She's deeper than that—that is, I +think so."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But he ended perplexed, contracting his eyebrows, +nervously jerking at a button on his coat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna reentered, and on his face was a smile +of anticipation and mischief.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Some one called me up just then," he said +shortly; "some one I've been expecting to call me +up. Guess who?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Slade," said Gunther, startled.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair," said Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair is right," said McKenna. "I'm +going up to see her tonight." And he added meditatively, +"It ought to be quite an interesting little chat."</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xiv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>At eight o'clock promptly McKenna presented +himself at the door of Mrs. Kildair's apartment. +Kiki, with his velvet glide, ushered him into +the studio. The electric chandeliers were dull; only +the great standing lamp was lit, throwing a foggy +luster about the room, massing enormous dark +silhouettes and spaces in the corners.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it a precaution?" he thought grimly, considering +this serviceable obscurity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He felt a sudden heightened sense of curiosity +and defiance, a feeling that had been growing within +him ever since the discovery of Slade's connection +with the ring, and the brief, disjointed details of +Beecher's interview. Every profession develops, +back of its elaborate technique, a sudden quality of +instinct which exists as the almost mechanical and +unguided operation of the disciplined mind. +McKenna had no sooner entered the room than he +perceived the woman with a quick defensive "on +guard" of all his faculties.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped in the center of the room, like a +pointer flushing his game, and in the second's rapid +inhalation he completely changed his scheme of +attack. He felt at once that he had to do not alone +with—what he expected—a woman of unusual +physical attraction, clever, with the defensive intuition +of one who has evaded the scrutiny of society; but +with a woman of mental grasp and decision. He felt +it everywhere: in the remarkable adjustment of +the square room which broke it up into half a +dozen separate groups, distinctive and sure as though +so many separate selves; in the harmony of color +and proportion, which he felt without analysis; +in the seduction of the Récamier couch with its +eastern drapery of blue and gold; in the friendly comfort +of the grouped chairs by the baronial fireplace; in +the correct intimacy of the reading-table at one end +and the formality of the grouped chairs by the piano. +All these notes were to him notes of the hand that +had arranged them, as he felt in the struggling +muscles of the bared marble torsos, wrestling on the +mantel, and the lithe, virile body of the discus-thrower +on the table, the virility and aggressiveness +of the woman. This perception awoke his defiance +as though one personality had been substituted for +another.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What does she want with me?" he thought. +"Is she daring enough to tell me all, or is she +worried at what I may know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>While he was still in the midst of his reflections, +Mrs. Kildair entered. She was in street costume: +a tailor-made dress of dark blue, edged with black +braid, the stiffness and sobriety relieved by a full +fichu at her throat. The red flight of a feather +crossed the Gainsborough hat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do?" she said, nodding to him, +a crisp, businesslike abruptness in her voice. "A +little more light would be better. Thanks. The +button is by the door."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Prepared as he had been to be surprised, he had +not expected this businesslike manifestation. He +went to the wall, following her directions, and threw +on the lights.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Only the side lights," she said. "That's it. +Shall we sit here?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She took her position by the reading-table in a +great high-backed upholstered arm-chair. Obeying +her gesture, he drew up his chair to a position +opposite. In the varied experiences of thirty years, he +had come into contact with women of all walks of +life. Without the psychological analysis of +subtleties of the lawyer and the novelist, he had an +unerring instinct for the crux of character. "Is she +good or is she bad?" was the question that, in ninety +cases out of a hundred, he put to himself at the +turning-point of his campaigns. For the first time, +despite his previous prejudice, he was in doubt for an +answer, but he recognized in her at once the stamp +of that superior brood which raises some men to +fame and fortune where others by one trait of +conscience or weakness end in a disgraceful failure.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have wanted to meet you for a long time, +Mr. McKenna," she said directly, but without the +accompanying smile of feminine flattery. "Mr. Slade +has told me much about you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Slade?" he said, with a quick simulation of +surprise, while admiring the abruptness, amazing in +a woman, with which she had launched her attack.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You realize, of course, Mr. McKenna," she +continued quietly, without giving him time to deny her +first implication, "that Mr. Beecher, in engaging +you, has, quite without his knowledge, brought on a +situation that is very embarrassing to me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good!" thought the detective. "She has made +up her mind to tell the whole story." Aloud he said, +without change of expression: "In what way, Mrs. Kildair?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A situation exists which makes it extremely +difficult for me to recover my ring without disclosing +to the public matters in my own private life that at +present are liable to great misconstruction."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke professionally, without variation in her +voice, as a doctor speaking with dispassionate +directness. McKenna did not answer, resolving by his +silence to force her to talk.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A week," she continued without pause, though +her eyes remained without wavering on his, "—ten +days at the most—may completely change this +position. I won't conceal from you that I am extremely +sorry that you have been brought into the case." McKenna +could not control an expression of surprise. +"But, now that you are in it, I shall be forced +to give you a confidence against my inclination."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But—" began the detective.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"One moment," she said, interrupting him. "Before +I give you this confidence I wish to ask one +question."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair, I must remind you," said McKenna +warily, "that I am engaged in the interests +of Mr. Beecher, and can do nothing without his +permission."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you representing any one besides Mr. Beecher?" +she said, ignoring his objection.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" he said carefully, to gain time.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you, in this particular case, representing +Mr. Slade?" she said directly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never said that I was employed by him, +Mrs. Kildair," he said slowly, comprehending now +the full purpose of her opening question.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Slade has told me himself of your work in +connection with the Gray Fox Mines, the Farmers' +and Travelers' Bank, and the more personal affair +of your recovery of his letters from a Miss Minna +Weston. You see, I am informed."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have worked for Mr. Slade," said McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And are you doing so now?" she asked sharply.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I never refer to my clients, Mrs. Kildair," he +said stiffly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I desire to put this matter entirely in your +hands—without reserve," she said quickly. "All I ask +from you is a promise that, notwithstanding your +relations with him past or present, nothing I say to +you shall be repeated to Mr. Slade, or to any one +else."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair," said McKenna, every faculty joyfully +grateful for the contest of wits he felt impending, +"I must remind you that my employer is Mr. Beecher, +and that I can promise nothing that will +keep him from doing anything he desires.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Beecher is acting for me," she said calmly. +"Very well; your position is correct. I will put it +this way. Subject to Mr. Beecher's approval, will +you give me your word that you will repeat nothing +of what I may tell you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If Mr. Beecher is willing, I am," said McKenna +obstinately. "That's my word."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I can speak to you freely," said Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not promised yet," broke in McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I will take the risk," she said, brushing aside the +obstacle with an impatient gesture.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I remain entirely free to communicate anything +to Mr. Beecher," interposed the detective instantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You do not understand," she said, without +irritation. "Mr. Beecher, in retaining you, did so to +assist me, and only after he had secured my permission. +Now I desire, in order to arrive at quicker +results and to be free to give you my full confidence, +to transfer that authority direct to me. In other +words, Mr. McKenna, I wish to retain you myself +and for myself only."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That, Mrs. Kildair, depends entirely on +Mr. Beecher," repeated the detective.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But if he acquiesces, will you act in my interests +only?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna was about to interpose another evasion, +when he reflected that he would have time to +acquaint Beecher with what had happened and to +advise him either to accept or to refuse.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," he replied cautiously, feeling +instinctively that some trap was being prepared +without yet perceiving what it could be. "I will leave +it that way."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good," she said, with a little nod of her head. +"Now, what have you done?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I can not answer that, Mrs. Kildair," he said, +smiling; "not under my present arrangement."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have, of course, discovered that the ring +belongs to Mr. Slade?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Quite unconsciously, she had adopted his own tactics, +the tactics of the inquisitor, who hurls the vital +question at the suspect, and then seeks the answer +in the almost imperceptible response in the eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know that," said McKenna, who felt that +the surprise he had experienced at having the tables +thus turned on him had revealed the truth to the +questioner. "That is, I know the ring did belong +to Mr. Slade."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you informed Mr. Beecher of the fact?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It has just come to my knowledge," said McKenna; +"I shall, naturally, inform him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair looked at him a moment with an +appearance of reflection.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The question was quite unnecessary," she said. +"Of course, you have told him, and you have every +right to deny it." Then she continued with more +decision: "This is exactly my danger—you see, +I won't mince words. It is a situation which +constantly occurs, and which is inexplicable except by +one construction in the eyes of society. Now—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I warn you," again objected the detective.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not propose to explain my relations with +Mr. Slade," continued Mrs. Kildair coldly. "They +are such that a great deal depends on the events of the +next few days. At present it is enough that I can +not explain my possession of the ring in any way +that can satisfy publicity."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Slade did not give you the ring?" said +McKenna, in slow progression.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She carefully considered the question.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Slade sent me the ring with an offer of +marriage," said Mrs. Kildair evenly, with an +appearance of great frankness. "The ring arrived on the +night of the party, and I committed the imprudence +of wearing it. If its source now becomes known, +I must appear before the world either as Mr. Slade's +mistress or as his fiancée; and at present I have +not made up my mind whether I shall marry him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The directness of this avowal left McKenna +immersed in thought. He looked at her, unaware of +the fixity of his stare; and, inclined as always to +skepticism, he asked himself if back of all the outer +gilt of this proud, determined woman, there were +not a stalking shadow of insistent poverty, whether +the game she was playing with Slade were not a +greater drama than that in which he was engaged; +whether, in fact, it lay not on a turn of the balance +whether the world should know her as the wife or +that very alternative which she had dreaded in the +exposure of the ownership of the ring?</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What does she really want of Slade?" he said +to himself, staring so profoundly beyond the set gaze +of the woman that, for the first time, she moved +with a little annoyance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. McKenna!" she said sharply.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon," he said, stiffening abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You perceive now the delicacy of my position," +she said; "and why I desire to have you completely +in my interests."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do," he answered, but still clinging to the +saving rope of defiance. "I only regret that you told +me this before Mr. Beecher's—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now ask me any questions you wish," she said, +interrupting him impatiently.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't feel at liberty to do so, Mrs. Kildair," +he said warily, convinced that her whole motive was +to find out the extent of his knowledge. "I prefer +to know first where I stand."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," she said. "Let us talk of other +things, then." Her manner changed to one of a +lighter, inconsequential curiosity. "There is one +point in the frightful happenings of the day I should +like to know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What, madam?" said McKenna, whose instinct +warned him to adopt a tone of artless attention.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Majendie was followed by detectives, was he not?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is the report."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And he was on the point of leaving when he +perceived that he would be followed?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what I have been told."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And, believing that he was about to be arrested, +he returned to the house and shot himself."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the story."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"As a matter of fact, wasn't he mistaken?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In what way?" said McKenna, steeling himself +under an appearance of surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Were not the detectives your own men—placed +by you at Mr. Slade's orders to acquaint him with +every move of Mr. Majendie?" persisted Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That would make a good Sunday thriller," said +McKenna, laughing boisterously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That is my guess," she said, drawing back as +though satisfied. "I am certain that Majendie +committed suicide through the blunder of believing he +was threatened with arrest."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Mrs. Kildair," said the detective, +rising, "I see that what you want to know is, am I +for or against Mr. Slade. If I'm not in his employ +you think I'm retained by his enemies. Well, I don't +intend to give you any information."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She made no answer, but, rising in turn, glanced +at the clock.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Since you are here," she said carelessly, "you +may as well look over the ground." And, without +waiting, she went to the door. "This is my +bedroom. The ring was placed here."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He had hardly made his quick professional scrutiny +when there came a ring at the door, and at a +sign from Mrs. Kildair they returned to the studio.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What now?" thought McKenna, who remembered +her glance at the clock. "Slade or who?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>To his surprise, it was Beecher who entered. +Mrs. Kildair went directly to him, a smile of confidence +and welcome on her face, holding out an eager hand, +and by the elation of her movements, the detective +comprehended how she had played him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy," she said directly, "I have a favor to +ask you, and I trust you so completely that I know +I need not explain it further. Mr. McKenna and +I have had a very complete understanding. I wish +him to represent me entirely. I do not mean that +you should not continue to work on the case," she +added quickly, as she felt instinctively the gesture of +warning McKenna made behind her back. "All I +wish you to tell him is that anything I may have +told him or will tell him shall be considered +confidential until the time I am able to tell you myself. +I must throw myself on your chivalry and protection +as the fine gentleman I have seen you to be," she +added, looking at him with a moistening of the eyes +in which there was respect and a more tender emotion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna, though perceiving how completely she +had prepared the isolation of the confidence he had +just heard, did not again signal his objection, +perhaps divining the futility of opposing such an appeal.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher bowed in assent.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, Rita," he said, with a pride that +brought a smile of amusement to McKenna's lips. +"I wish McKenna to do everything he can for you +and in exactly the way you wish."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," she said, with a little pressure of +his hand. Then turning, she added: "This I will +say to you both. I have my reasons for believing +that the ring will be returned within ten days; if it +isn't then I shall have more to disclose."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Returned?" said Beecher, struck by the similarity +of her prophecy and that of Nan Charters.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. Until then, I believe all that is +necessary is to wait for developments." She turned +toward the detective, who waited like a statue. +"Mr. McKenna, I know you are a busy man. I +won't keep you. Mr. Beecher has come to assist +me on a very painful errand, one on which I would +trust no other man that I know in New York." She +held out her hand. "I do not often make mistakes +in men, or I should not have told you what I did. +Good-night; I shall call you soon."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna bowed, experiencing, despite his resentment +at her mastery of the evening, a feeling of +respect and deference.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Beecher is a kitten in her hands," he said to +himself as he entered the street. "She played me as she +wanted to. One thing's certain. She wants to +employ me to keep me from doing anything. Evidently +her own game is more important than the ring—or +is there blackmail mixed up in this? I have it! +Mrs. Kildair knows the thief, but is afraid to act +until—until certain things straighten out between +her and Mr. John G. Slade."</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>"And now, Teddy," said Mrs. Kildair, as soon +as the door had closed behind the detective, "you +know what I want of you. I have arranged +everything. My carriage is waiting."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Half an hour later, Mrs. Bloodgood joined them, +heavily veiled. They drove to the house next to +that of Majendie, and, at a word from Mrs. Kildair, +Beecher remained below on guard in the flickering +obscurity of the street. The two women went +hurriedly up the steps of Majendie's home, where the +door was opened for them by some one who had been +awaiting their arrival.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>For a full half-hour Beecher, prey to a profound +melancholy, continued his aimless, mechanical +pacing, his head raised, glancing past the jagged black +silhouettes of the house-tops at the reddened clouds +of the unreal night, which brought him not a clear +vision of immense and purifying spaces but the heavy +reflection of the illuminated, surging streets.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What will my life be?" he thought, conjuring +up the future. "Calm and commonplace? Or shall +I ever be linked to some such tragedy—torn to +pieces, all in a day—wrecked!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The door opened and two shadows passed down +the steps. He returned hastily, saw them into the +carriage, and stood with uncovered head, a lump in +his throat, as they drove on. Then he went directly +to his rooms, and, exhausted by the emotions of the +day, fell heavily into a sleep that was almost a stupor.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The next morning he was awakened by Gunther's abrupt hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Up, up, you sluggard!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He jumped out hastily and found it was almost +half-past eight.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nice time to sleep," said Gunther sarcastically. +"Have you forgotten a little visit we're to make to +that sweet person, Mr. Garraboy? You've got just +twenty-two minutes to beautify yourself and fill the +inner being."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If we're to see your charming friend, Mr. Garraboy," +said Gunther half an hour later, as they were +speeding for the congested, stirring, lower city, +"we've got to nip our man before the opening of the +Stock Exchange. Now let's hear what happened at +Mrs. Kildair's last night."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The events in which Mrs. Bloodgood was concerned +were sealed in confidence; but Beecher felt +at liberty to recount to his friend the bare details +of McKenna's visit as he had known them.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce is behind it all?" said Gunther, +puzzled. "I got McKenna on the wire and that's +all he would tell me. What's the reason she wants +to bottle up everything? What's her mix-up with +Slade? Depend upon it, Ted, that woman knows +more than we do—or why should she expect the +ring to be returned? She's got a reason for that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If it's returned," said Beecher, "it's Mrs. Bloodgood +who took it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Never! No woman ever got that ring out of the +apartment—not alone; not a Mrs. Bloodgood, or +a Nan Charters, or a Mrs. Cheever, or—" Suddenly +he reflected. "Ted, there's one person I'd +like to meet."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Lille?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Supposing we look her up a little more."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I've thought quite a lot about her," said Beecher +musingly; and, remembering all at once her self-possession +on the night of the theft, he added: "There's +nothing weak about her certainly; still, I can't see the +motive."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They had left behind them the free, unbounded +sky, boring their way through the towering sides of +the sky-scraping district, where buildings rose in +regular, comb-like structures, with their thousands of +human cells tenanted by human bees. Entering a +street where the obstructed sun never shone, they +were swept on by the feverish rush of fellow-beings +and shot up sixteen stories to their destination. The +office-boy in the antechamber took their cards with +the condescension which only an office-boy between +the ages of twelve and sixteen can feel, and +disappeared within.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The old screw'll keep us waiting half an hour, +said Gunther, who disliked all delays.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bet he's trying to figure out what we're here +for?" said Beecher, who admitted to himself a +delicious satisfaction at the prospective humiliation of +the man he cordially disliked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The next moment Garraboy himself appeared at +the rail, dapper, dried up, and severe.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do?" he said sharply, but without +inviting them in. "What can I do for you? It's a +very busy day for me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I assure you I don't intend to take any more +time than I am compelled to," said Beecher stiffly, +with an accent that gave another meaning to the +phrase. He plunged his hand into his pocket. "I +have an order for you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, I remember now," said Garraboy, with +a malicious drawing up of his lips. "You can save +yourself the trouble."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" asked Beecher, greatly +surprised.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have an order on me to deliver certain +stocks I hold for Miss Charters?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Miss Charters has changed her mind," said +Garraboy, letting his glance rest on Beecher with the +vacant, impudent stare of which he was master.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have seen Miss Charters?" said Beecher, +growing very angry.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have; and when I explained to her that she had +been unduly excited by some one who evidently is +not aware that there are laws in civilized countries +adequate to deal with those who attack the +reputations or interests—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir!" exclaimed Beecher, moving so quickly +toward the rail that Garraboy hastily retreated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When Miss Charters learned that, and likewise +that she had parted with stocks worth considerably +over twenty thousand dollars, she changed her mind +very quickly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Garraboy," said Gunther abruptly, "all this +is not to the point. We have a formal order on +you for certain stocks. Ted, present it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"True, I forgot," said Garraboy, and produced +from his coat a letter, which he looked over with +nonchalant delay and finally handed to Beecher. "I +presume you are acting from altruistic motives and +are not standing on technicalities. Here is a little +note which Miss Charters requested me to give you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That has nothing to do with it," said Gunther +at once, for the personality of the broker aroused +the pugnacious side of him. "Your transaction has +been closed. Get your stocks."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, frowning, unable to conceal the vexation +that this unexpected check brought him, opened the +letter. The address by its formality completed his +irritation:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR MR. BEECHER:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Garraboy has called and explained everything +satisfactorily. I am afraid I was needlessly alarmed last night +and did him an injustice. As he has shown me how +advantageous it will be for me to transfer my holdings to +other stocks, now far below their market value, I have +decided not to lose the opportunity. Thank you just the +same for your interest in this matter. I shall be in at five +this afternoon and will explain to you more fully.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<dl class="docutils"> +<dt class="noindent"><span>Cordially yours,</span></dt> +<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>NAN CHARTERS.</span></p> +</dd> +</dl> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The two watched him read to the end, fold the +letter carefully, and put it in his pocket.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" said Garraboy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Insist on the delivery, Ted," said Gunther +militantly. "If Miss Charters wants to return them +again, that's her affair. The stocks are yours."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at his friend with a glance of warning +which sought to convey to him the distrust he could +not openly phrase.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If Mr. Beecher wishes to stand on technicalities," +said Garraboy, in his even, oily voice, "he can do so. +He can make a very nice profit. Which is it? I +repeat, I can not give you much time."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Charters' letter is sufficient," said Beecher +suddenly. "Good-day."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The feeling of mortification and chagrin which her +action had brought on him dominated all other feelings. +He went out in a rage, tearing the letter into +minute fragments. Without a word they reached +the street and entered the automobile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Last time I ever try to help a woman!" he said, +between his teeth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce did you play into his game for?" +said Gunther. "He's bamboozled her. I believe the +fellow is an out-and-out crook—he's got a rotten +bad eye. Why the deuce didn't you get the stocks?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She can take her own risks," said Beecher furiously. +"It's her own affair if she's going to blow +hot and cold. By Jove, Bruce, I never met any one +who could make me so mad clear through and +through."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped, biting his lips, and Gunther with a +shy glance stored away for future comment the +impression he received.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the use of taking them seriously?" he +said, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Amuse +yourself, but don't let them absorb you. Suppose we +take a turn at the Curb and see what's doing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>With the opening of the market, all the giant sides +of Wall Street seemed suddenly animated with the +fury of a disturbed ant-hill. Every one was +rushing in and out, carrying with them the pollution of +disaster and alarm. Eddie Fontaine and Steve +Plunkett hurried past them with quick nods. At the curb +market the brokers were shrieking and flinging their +frantic signals in the air. They entered the Stock +Exchange, nodding to the doorkeeper, who knew +Gunther, and reached the balcony, their ears suddenly +smitten with the confused uproar from below. They +stood there a few minutes, marveling at that Inferno +of speculation and embattled greed flung before them +in all the nakedness of man's terror; and then left, +oppressed by the too frank exhibition of their mortal +counterparts.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's doing?" asked Gunther as they returned.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The doorkeeper, with a shrug of his shoulders, +flung down his thumb—the gesture of the Roman +circus.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You like that?" said Beecher, when once more +they were in the automobile and the din and +oppression of cell-like monstrosities had receded.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do," Gunther replied, locking and unlocking +his broad hands.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Horrible!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's only one side of it—speculation," said +Gunther warmly; "but even that is impressive. +Look beyond those little mobs we saw, get the +feeling of the whole country, the vast nation, rising in +anger—flinging over hundreds of thousands of +holdings—sweeping down the little gamblers with the +tremendous waves of its alarm. Beyond that the +whole vibrating industry of the nation is here, within +a quarter of a mile—the great projects of +development, the wars of millions, the future of immense +territories to the West and the South. There's a big +side to it—a real side—that gets me. I've a mind +to walk down now and face the old governor and tell +him I'm ready."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you?" said Beecher. He himself +had felt the restlessness of indecision and enforced +idleness. He gave a laugh. "You know, Bruce, +I'm beginning to feel the same way. Either I've got +to get into the current somewhere, or I'm going to +pack off for Africa some fine day."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way, Tilton's up at the club. He's here +for a few days, getting ready for a lion hunt or +something."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tilton?" exclaimed Beecher joyfully. "By +Jove, I must get hold of him. I'd go in a minute!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He believed what he said. The whirl of emotions +into which he had lately been plunged—revealing +to him as it had all the mercenary, clutching side +of the city—had left him disturbed, rebellious, +longing to be away from the mass of men in +general, and of women in particular, the brilliant, +keen, and calculating women of the city with +whom he had been thrown. Impatient and disillusionized, +without realizing the true cause, he repeated:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, I'd go in a minute!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the afternoon he went to call on Miss Charters. +After having declared twenty times that he +would not go near her, he suddenly remembered, at +the end of a wearied discussion between his conscience +and his inclination, that his check for twenty +thousand dollars was to be reclaimed and, at once +seizing such a satisfactory reason, he abandoned the +attitude of embattled dignity which he had logically +built up.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's true; I must get the check," he said, and +he set out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But as he neared his destination and began to +rehearse all the grave causes for offense that he held +against her, he was surprised at the slender stock of +ammunition he held.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it was perfectly natural," he thought, +struck by the idea—having considered her reasons +for the first time. "If Garraboy called and +explained everything to her satisfaction, why shouldn't +she change her mind? Besides, there is nothing +against Garraboy—nothing definite. After all, I +may have been unjust to him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Very sheepish, he felt his irritation slipping away +as he yielded to the eager desire of once more +entering her presence.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce was I so wild about?" he asked +himself, amazed, as he entered the elevator.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But all at once he remembered that she had allowed +him to receive the news at the hands of a person +intensely disagreeable to him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't she telephone me? That's the whole +point."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And, all his irritation restored by this one +outstanding fact, he entered the apartment with the +dignity of a justly offended person.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She was seated by the fire in an easy-chair, and +she did not rise as he entered. She was bending +eagerly forward, an open manuscript in her hand, +and, without turning, she made a little sign to him +to be seated until she should have finished.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonderful!" she cried at last, dropping the play +in her lap. "It is wonderful!" she repeated, her +whole body vibrating with the enthusiasm of +her mood. "Wonderful—astonishing—what a +scene!" And, tapping the manuscript with a +gesture of decision, she exclaimed: "I will play that +part—it will be an enormous sensation!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Her mind still obsessed by the thought of the +newly discovered masterpiece, she turned toward +Beecher, who was seated like a ramrod on the edge +of his chair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A marvelous play! Really, that Mr. Hargrave +is a coming man." Forgetting her previous +estimate, she rushed on: "Isn't it strange—I always +knew he would do it, from the very first! What is +extraordinary is the subtlety of it—how he twines +two or three emotions together in the same scene. +What a glorious chance for an actress! I must +telephone the office."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As she rose, a slip of paper which she had been +using as a marker fluttered to the floor. She picked +it up, recognized it, and handed it to him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, here's your check!" she said. "I put +it there so as not to forget it. Thanks very much. +I'll explain in a minute. I must telephone Stigler; +I'm all excited!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, more annoyed by this revelation of her +professional life than by the rub to his vanity, took +the check and pocketed it—not having pronounced +a word since his arrival.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She considered him carefully from the corner of +her eye as she took up the telephone; but her +personal emotion was too buoyant for trivial +interruptions.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Stigler, her manager, was out, and she put +down the receiver with a jar of impatience. She +looked at Beecher again, and, perceiving that there +was an explanation due, sought at once to shift the +responsibility.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know, really, you were ridiculously +alarmed last night," she said, a spirit of opposition +in her voice. "I don't know what made you so +panicky."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," he said sarcastically, "I realize now +that I should never have stirred you up, when +everything was so calm. It's strange that I did not +explain to you the natural reasons for Mr. Garraboy's +not calling you up—but then, I usually lose my +head at such times."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are angry!" she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What a strange idea! On the contrary, it was +a charming experience to enter Mr. Garraboy's +office and be so delightfully reassured that everything +was so prosperous with him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She did not like irony, or know how to combat it, +so she frowned and said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I telephoned you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should you do that? You might have deprived +me of the pleasure of meeting your charming +friend, Mr. Garraboy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I telephoned. You were not in."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Last night. Four times."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was mollified by this, but tried not to show it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And this morning?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I never get up before ten," she cried, aghast.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your explanations are crushingly convincing," +he said, with a bow and a smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She watched him with an uneasy look, totally +unconscious of any sense of obligation, accustomed as +she was to have her requests for service regarded as +favors. The reaction from their last interview had +left her in a coldly antagonistic state, determined to +pluck in the bud this progress toward intimacy which +had so threatened her scheme of life. Now, seeing +him collected and ironical, she was instinctively +alarmed at the distance which he, not she, had placed +between them.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Teddy," she began, in a more confidential tone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy?" he said, smiling.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was perfectly good-natured, and as she felt +that he was not irritated, but amusing himself at her +tricks which he had divined, she was uneasy under +this ironical examination. She felt that he had +escaped her; and, disturbed by this thought, she looked +at him, seeing all at once his quality. As he had +made not the slightest reference to the very apparent +obligation which he had been willing to undergo for +her, she felt his social superiority and his reticence +of good breeding. Besides, other women—brilliant +women—had been attracted by him: Mrs. Craig +Fontaine, Mrs. Kildair, and, above all, Emma +Fornez. But another mood had possession of her, the +mood of the artist transformed by the joy of +personal sensation. She wished to keep him, but at +the moment she was irritated that such a little thing +should come to interfere with the joy of the imagined +future triumph.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be horrid, Teddy," she said impatiently, +and, wishing to appease him quickly, that she might +talk to him of the play, she continued: "The fact +is, Mr. Garraboy has done everything he could for +me. He sold my stocks a week ago, foreseeing this +panic, and saved me several thousand dollars. He +offered to give me his check for twenty-two +thousand five hundred dollars, or to reinvest it for me +when the time came in the enormous bargains that +can be picked up now. What was I to do?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're quite right, and I made a great mistake +to mislead you so," he answered, with great seriousness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It wasn't your fault," she said abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wasn't it?" he said, opening his eyes with a +show of surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She comprehended that she would have to surrender, +and, changing her tone to one of gentleness, +she said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a great thing for you to do what you did, +Teddy—I shall never forget it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," he said, persisting in misunderstanding +her. "I often get up early—that was nothing +at all."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not at all the way you were last time," +she said reproachfully, forgetting that that was just +what she wished to avoid.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But at this moment the telephone rang. Stigler, +her manager, was calling. Immediately she forgot +their misunderstanding, carried away by the +enthusiasm of the moment. Beecher, with a clear vision, +followed her, noticing in her voice, as she sought to +cajole the manager, the same caressing pleading +which she had employed a moment before with him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I really see her," he thought, with a +liberation of his spirit. "Emma was entirely wrong. +She's not a woman—she always an actress."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll send you the play right away," she was +saying. "Mr. Hargrave is coming. I'll have him take +it to the hotel. But you must read it tonight. +Promise! Oh, yes, lots of comedy—delicious! +Heart interest and big scenes—yes, sensational. +Just the part for Fannestock. I must have him for +the part! You'll see him in every line! Now, +Mr. Stigler, please read it tonight!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, there's Fannestock too," said Beecher grimly +to himself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She rose from telephoning, joyous and excited.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, if Stigler will only see it! It's a great +part—a great part! There's a wonderful scene +at the close of the third act, between the two +women and the father, that will bring down the house."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Tilbury came in to announce that Mr. Hargrave +was calling. An expression of delight lit up +the features of the actress. But all at once she +turned anxiously to Beecher, who had risen stiffly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, I've overstayed my time," he said readily, +glancing at the clock.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She was grateful, and yet dissatisfied that he had +suggested what she wished, and, recalling his new +spirit of independence, she said anxiously, with a +compensating smile:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, call me up in the morning—this is so +important."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the hallway he stepped aside while Hargrave, a +frail, oldish-young man, entered, with his famished, +doubting glance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is wonderful—wonderful!" cried the +actress, seizing both his hands. "I am still thrilled. +Wonderful—-wonderful!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You liked it?" said Hargrave timidly. At her +words, he saw heaven open before his eyes in a +confused vision of frantic audiences, applauding critics, +checks for thousands for royalty, all confused by +rolling automobiles, magnificent bouquets and +languishing feminine eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Like it!" continued Nan Charters, retaining +hold of one hand to draw him into the salon. "It +is marvelous! How could you know all this so +young!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, in the excitement, quietly made his +escape. In the elevator, to the surprise of the +wondering bell-boy, he was seized with a mad laughter, +which continued to convulse him as he rolled into the +street.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Heaven be praised!" he exclaimed. "Cured—cured, +by Jove! I wouldn't have missed it for worlds!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>On turning the corner of his club, he ran into +Becker, a club acquaintance whom he tolerantly +disliked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Becker, old boy," he said, seizing his arm and +flourishing his cane in the direction of the club, +"what can I buy you? Come on—</span><em class="italics">en avant</em><span>!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce has got in you?" said that +correct youth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Joy, laughter, everything! I'm happy as a +Croton water-bug on a hot marble slab!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the bar, he gathered every one in sight, +slapping them on their shoulders. His comrades looked +at him with envy and awe, believing that he had +profited by a tip to make a killing in the market. +Their own enjoyment was little enough. The +market, outdoing the day before, had plunged like a +wild steer into the maelstrom of panic. A billion +dollars had receded, scattered, evaporated in the mad +day. The disaster had reached the whole country; +every bank was threatened. The United States +Treasury had been implored to come to the +assistance of the country. Gunther, Fontaine, Marx, +Haggerty, were in hourly conference; while before +the swelling hurricane of fright, every paper was +imploring its readers to stand firm.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xvi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The next day Beecher did not consider for a +moment telephoning to Nan Charters, despite +her last request. He felt that it was a chapter closed +in his life—one of those innumerable false paths +down which one plunges, only the quicker to return. +His own serenity did not even surprise him. He +went off for the morning to play rackets with Bruce +Gunther, and lunched at the club with Tilton, who +urged him to join his hunt, an invitation which he +discussed with enthusiasm.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The news from the stock market was the same—ten +point losses in the early trading. Banks all over +the country had suspended payments for a week in +order to weather the storm. The panic had ceased +to be one of speculative concern only. Every one +was anxiously asking if a permanent blow had not +been dealt to the industries of the country. Many +freely prophesied that, if the downward rush were +not checked within three days, it would take the +country ten years to restore its shattered prosperity. +There was a rumor that the big men of the Street +had made up a fund, reaching to many millions, +which would be brought on the morrow to the +support of the market. The run on the Associated +Trust still continued, checked though it was by delay +and technicalities. Yet the fall of Slade was hourly +predicted.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher lingered after luncheon, played a +hundred points at billiards and won, an hour's bridge +and won again. Then he went off in high spirits +to call on Emma Fornez, an appointment arranged +over the telephone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So, you bad boy, you and your little Charters +have quarreled," said the prima donna, greeting him +with an accusing smile, though in her voice was the +pitch of the nervous excitement which her coming +début that night had communicated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the least," he said, a little surprised at the +insinuation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ta-ta-ta! Enough of your stuff and nonsense," +she said, with a shrug of her shoulders. "You are +too big a simpleton—a little woman like that will +always get the best of you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But there is no quarrel, and I am not in the least +interested."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, </span><em class="italics">avec ça</em><span>—keep away—better keep away! +You will burn your fingers. Just the kind of a little +doll that is dangerous. Women like that are like +half colors between one thing and the other—very +dangerous! A young girl—</span><em class="italics">jeune fille</em><span>—would +bore you now, and an old campaigner like Emma +Fornez would amuse you; but a little thing like that +is too puzzling for you. I see just how it is," she +continued, placing her hands on her hips and bobbing +her head energetically, while Beecher, very much +pleased to be so lectured, listened with a mocking +look. "Yes, yes, I know very well! She gets +you—how do you say?—going and coming. When +she is an actress you say she is different from the +rest—what a child! And when she is playing the +child, you say what a difference—she is such an +artist! You laugh—see!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher broke out laughing at this characterization +which came so near the truth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What I have said is very good—very good," +repeated Emma Fornez, pleased. "It's all studied, +very carefully studied out, but it takes with young +simpletons, big geese, good-looking boys—don't +I know? </span><em class="italics">Est-ce-que j'en ai joué de ces tours là</em><span>? +Come, now, what did you fight about?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher had an inclination to take her into his +confidence; but he resisted the impulse, and to turn +the conversation said artfully:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, you look stunning! You won't have +to sing a note."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She was in a filmy peignoir, and, as his glance +showed an amused admiration, she said, with a look +of apology which she did not feel at all, gathering +the peignoir closer with a perfectly simulated modesty:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very bad—my receiving you like this. I +am going through my costumes. They are dreams. +Wait, you shall see—you wish to see them? +Good!" All at once she stopped and, seizing his +arm, cried: "Teddy, I am in a cold fright—I shiver +all over whenever I think of it. New York audiences +are terrible. It will be a big, big failure, won't it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There, I'll give you my lucky piece," he said, +patting her shoulder as he would a child's.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you!" she cried, delighted; and; running +into the bedroom, she called back: "I will show you +the costume for the second act first. You will fall +down and adore me. Keep me talking, Teddy—I +shall go into hysterics. Oh, I am so frightened!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She tried her voice, singing a scale, inquiring +anxiously, her head peering around the door: "That +sounds bad, </span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Marvelous!" said Beecher, who did not know +one note from another.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Reassured, she entered radiantly, took two or +three steps forward, and, lifting the castanets on her +fingers, flung herself into the pose of Carmen +exulting in the return of her lover.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Carmen, Teddy," she cried, with a toss of her +head. "Carmen is different from all other rôles. +To succeed in Carmen, one must be a Carmen one's +self—</span><em class="italics">enfant de la Bohême</em><span>. You like this? +Wait—wait a moment."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Back in her bedroom, she continued, pausing from +time to time to shriek at her maid: "Teddy, you do +me so much good—you take my mind off.... +Victorine, </span><em class="italics">tu m'assassine</em><span>! ... Teddy, they +will think me beautiful, </span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>? You will stay—you +will talk to me until I go?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wish I could," said Beecher, to whom this peep +behind the scenes was novel. "The deuce is, I'm +dining with Mrs. Fontaine—going in her box."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And Chartèrs—she is going too?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What—you don't know?" she said, emerging, +a shawl of shaded luminous greens flung over the +shoulder of a russet taffeta. She seized him by the +chin with the savage gesture of the Bohemian. "You +lie to me! You love her—and you know!" Then, +slipping on the sofa beside him, half playful, half +feline, she pleaded: "Tell me, Teddy—tell me just +to distract me. Be a nice boy—you see how +nervous I am—please!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher did not resist. He recounted lightly, +making little of the few passages at arms between +him and Nan Charters, ending with a droll reproduction +of his laughing exit, cured and disillusionized.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, my poor Teddy!" said Emma Fornez, shaking +her head. "Everything you say proves what I +feared."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are in love; you are beyond hope!</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What, after I've told you this?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. She asked you to telephone, you +didn't. Why? Because you are in love—you are +afraid."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Emma, I will tell you the truth," he said, with +an excusing shrug.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was attracted—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I saw what an idiot I would be."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am completely cured, and if I didn't telephone, +it is—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you are in love," said Emma promptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You will see her tomorrow; if not, day after +tomorrow. And the longer you stay away, the +worse for you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The arrival of Spinetti, the conductor, to run +over a last few points, broke in upon this interesting +discussion. Beecher departed, after a promise to +come behind after the second act with a budget of +news. He returned to his rooms, undisturbed by the +charges of Emma Fornez.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't thought of her the whole day," he said +contentedly. "If I didn't telephone, it's because—well, +because—what's the use? I have other things +more interesting to do."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In his apartment he found McKenna waiting for +him, in company with Gunther, who was already +dressed for dinner at Mrs. Fontaine's.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, McKenna," he said, surprised. "What's up?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The two had been discussing energetically, and +the little difficult hesitation told him that he himself +had been the subject of conversation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm called off on an important case," said +McKenna. "Thought I'd better have an understanding +with you first."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What understanding?" he said. His eye was +attracted by the heaped-up mail on a side table, and +he moved over to examine it, with a curiosity, +utterly illogical, to see if Miss Charters had written +him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Beecher, I have a request to make of you," +said McKenna quickly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't open any letters or answer the telephone +until I am gone."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, yes; but—" He cut off with a look of +interrogation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Pump it into him, Mac," said Gunther, throwing +himself back and puffing forth great volumes of +smoke.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The truth is, Mr. Beecher," said McKenna, smiling, +"Mrs. Kildair played us both to the queen's +fashion."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What was I to do?" said Beecher warmly. +"Whom does the ring belong to, anyway? Is there +any reason I should do what she doesn't want me to?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No—no," said McKenna slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Could I have refused a direct demand from her +like that? And what reason could I give if I had?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You couldn't," said McKenna, eying the end of +his cigar. "She did the job neatly. I admire that +woman—don't know when I've met one of that sex +who's caught my fancy so."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you're sick of the case and want to get +out," said Beecher, believing he had divined the +errand. "Don't know as I blame you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I don't want to quit," said McKenna slowly, +while Gunther smiled to himself. "I should say, +rather, there are things in this case that make me +particularly interested—interested for my own +curiosity to go a little deeper. Only, I want to be sure +we understand things the same way. You don't +understand from anything Mrs. Kildair said, do you, +that I am prevented from going on working on my +own hook?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, no; of course not," said Beecher, reflecting. +"I understand two things: one, that Mrs. Kildair +wishes to keep in confidence what she said to +you, which I should say was the explanation of +certain facts connected with her having the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Second?" said McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Second, that she believes the ring will be returned, +and until she is sure it is she doesn't wish to +give us certain suspicions or knowledge that she has."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"First rate—just right," said McKenna, rising +quickly, showing satisfaction in the instant alertness +of his movements. "That's what I understand; we +understand each other." As he spoke, the telephone +rang. He made a quick gesture of opposition as +Beecher started, saying: "Not now, sir; I'd rather +you wouldn't answer—not just now."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher looked at Gunther, who nodded and said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna's got a good reason. You'll understand +later."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mr. Beecher, I've just one thing to say +before I go," said McKenna, while the insistent bell +continued its querulous summons. "I'd prefer you +wouldn't mention to any one that you saw me. At +any rate, as Mrs. Kildair evidently isn't anxious for +quick results, there's nothing to be done now. +Perhaps by tomorrow there may be a different turn to +the case."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" said Beecher. "Why +don't you tell me what you know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You forget, Mr. Beecher; you yourself have +stopped me there," said McKenna, with a slightly +malicious smile. "However, there's going to be a +little meeting tonight that may have a whole lot to +do with the fortunes of a good many people; and +when it's over it may, or may not, throw a new light +on this case."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They're going to put Slade through the same +initiation they gave Majendie," said Gunther, at a +look from Beecher. "There's a meeting of the big +fellows at the governor's tonight—a sort of +sheep-shearing—though Slade's not much of a lamb."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And his wool grows close to the hide," said +McKenna, with one of his rare laughs. "However, +I can tell you this much: whatever happens I don't +believe there'll be any exit by the bullet route—not +if I know John G. Slade. Now, sir, I've got to +disappear for a while on my own troubles."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where can I get you?" asked Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't get me," said McKenna, with one of +his sudden contractions of the eyelids. "That's the +whole point—not till I get you. I'm off, and you +don't know where," he added, offering his hand. +"Maybe two days; maybe a week."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't understand," said Beecher, with a +puzzled expression.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do," said Gunther, pulling his sleeve.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, there are two little points may interest +you gentlemen as expert deducers," said McKenna, +with his hat on his head. "One is, I've found out +who those detectives were that night—they're +crooks. Second—and don't forget this—I share +Mrs. Kildair's opinion that the ring is going to be +returned."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you know who took it!" exclaimed +Beecher, while Gunther looked up suddenly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know a single thing," said McKenna, +"but I'm getting to the suspicious stage. So long."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The telephone had stopped. Beecher, left +open-mouthed by the exit of McKenna, turned to +Gunther, who had resumed his easy lounge.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce is going on, Bruce? What's +all this mystery?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look over your mail," said Gunther irrelevantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher obeyed the suggestion. At the end of a +moment he exclaimed:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello! Why, here's a note from Mrs. Kildair—sent +by messenger, evidently."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Read it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher glanced at it hurriedly.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR TEDDY:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Have been trying all day to get hold of McKenna, but +they tell me at his office he's out of town. I want to see +him very much. If you know where he is, please have him +call me up. Shall see you at Mrs. Fontaine's tonight.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>RITA.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. Please find McKenna if you possibly can.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>"By Jove—McKenna!" he exclaimed, and hastened +toward the door, only to be stopped by Gunther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ted, you blockhead, what are you doing?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Going after McKenna."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Just what he doesn't want."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher stopped short, suddenly comprehending.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it, is it?" he said, returning. "He wants +to keep clear of Mrs. Kildair's, then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You see," said Gunther, "it is not often that +McKenna gets double-crossed. When he does, he +doesn't particularly relish it. Mrs. Kildair may be +perfectly right in bottling up the whole affair; but, +after what happened yesterday, Mac isn't going to +stop until he gets to the bottom."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But why disappear?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because, you little white fluffy toy donkey, the +last thing in the world Mrs. Kildair wants is to have +him do anything at all, and, as you are putty in the +hands of any pretty woman, he doesn't intend to +have you call him off."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll see Mrs. Kildair at Louise's. What am I +to say?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonder if she's really playing to be Mrs. Slade," +he said grimly. "If she is, she'll give that up after +tonight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's going to happen to him, Bruce?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll come out with so little left that a Committee +on Virtue will arrest him for indecent +exposure—and the country will be saved."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher stopped before the telephone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonder if Mrs. Kildair really was on the +'phone?" he said meditatively. The thought +recalled Miss Charters, but without disturbing his +equanimity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bruce," he said joyfully, rushing to dress, +"Tilton's crazy to have me go to Africa with him. By +Jove, I've half made up my mind! Give me a man's +life; a life with men, out in the open—dogs and +horses, and nothing but a few lions and fat elephants +to bother you!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When they arrived at Mrs. Fontaine's, they found, +to their surprise, that Mrs. Kildair had been delayed +by an automobile breaking down, and would only +join them later at the opera.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Not one of them had the faintest suspicion, when +later Mrs. Kildair calmly entered the box, that she +had passed through two hours of supreme agitation +that had left her torn between hope and dread—her +whole future staked on one turn. Slade, face to +face with the crisis that would determine whether +he would survive as one of the figures of the financial +world, or return staggering into the oblivion of the +commonplace, had gone to see her in the afternoon.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Confronted, too, by the imminent outcome of a +gamble that had absorbed all her ambitions and her +hopes, she had recklessly thrown aside all the +restraints which she had interposed between them; +and by an impulse of daring which makes such +women irresistible to men, having invented an excuse +for Mrs. Fontaine, had kept him to dinner, trusting +to his protection, insisting on his confidence.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Afterward she had driven him to the gray, prison-like +structure which Gunther called a home, and seen +him, defiant with a defiance she had breathed into him, +with the scorn of the gambler who comes at length to +the ultimate stake walk up the steps past the group of +newspaper men, who, suddenly ceasing their chatter, +huddled together and watched him with a unanimous +craning of their heads.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xvii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Craig Fontaine's box was in the +lower grand tier in that favored circle which, +in the present struggle for social supremacy, is the +ultimate battlefield. Her entrance was one of the +six important arrivals of the night which affected +the immense audience with a curiosity only less +intense than the entrance of the prima donna. +Mrs. Fontaine, approaching the curtain that shut out the +swimming vision of faces, took a preparatory glance, +and as the row of boxes still showed a profusion of +gaps, she delayed their entrance on the pretext of +waiting for Mrs. Kildair. Besides Gunther and +Beecher, there were in the party Lady Fitzhugh +Mowbray, a young woman of the striking English +blonde type, and the Duke de Taleza-Corti, of the +royal house of Italy, a cosmopolite, dry, frail in +body, affecting the English monocle, with a perpetual +introspective smile on his keen lips.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The absence of Mrs. Kildair had left Mrs. Fontaine +in very bad humor. Not only did she consider +an invitation to her box as a sort of royal command +that should take precedence over all calamities, and +render accidents impossible, but she felt that she +would miss the effect which her well-balanced party +had promised. Fortunately, at that moment the door +opened and Mrs. Kildair entered.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Mrs. Fontaine," she said immediately, +in a voice that could not be heard by the rest, "the +explanation I sent you is not true. It was not a +question of a break-down. There are crises in our +lives that cannot be put off. I can tell you no more +than this, but I know you will understand that +nothing except a matter of supreme importance would +ever make me miss an invitation of yours."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fontaine looked at her and, seeing beyond the +surface calm the fires of a profound agitation, was +pleased that Mrs. Kildair had not sought an easy +excuse, but had thrown herself on her woman's +generosity. Also she perceived that she was strikingly +dressed in a robe of that luminous, elusive green that +breaks forth in the flickering driftwood, subdued +and given distance by a network of black lace. It +was exactly the contrast that she would have chosen +as a foil to her own costume. She smiled, pressed +her guest's hand sympathetically and signaled to +Gunther, who removed her wrap.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair murmured an involuntary tribute +while the Duke de Taleza-Corti, with the over-frank +admiration which the Latin permits, said point +blank:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If I am to sit behind you, Madame, you must +bandage my eyes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fontaine had chosen the one color which, +above all others, seemed to have been created to +frame her dark imperious beauty—a warm purple, +the tone of autumn itself, which gave to her shoulders +and throat the softness of ivory. About her neck +was a double string of pearls which were worth ten +times the receipts of the house.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's go in," she said, glancing at Gunther +with a hope that she might find his eyes a little +troubled. She signed to him to take the seat behind +hers, placing Beecher back of Mrs. Kildair, and +while the rest of her party immediately swept the +house with their opera-glasses, she remained quiet, +conscious of the sudden focus, unwilling to show +herself curious of other women.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look," said Mrs. Kildair to Beecher in a low +aside; "Mrs. Bloodgood is in her box. What +daring!" she added after a moment's examination. +"She has dressed herself in black."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, following her directions, beheld Mrs. Bloodgood, +without a single jewel or a relieving touch +of color, sitting proudly, looking fixedly at the stage, +disdainful of the stir and gossip which her dramatic +appearance occasioned. Behind in the crowded box +Mr. Bloodgood was standing, smiling and contented, +showing himself with a malicious enjoyment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How can she do it?" he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"After the first act," said Mrs. Kildair, with a +sudden impulse of generosity, "go and see her. +Take Mr. Gunther. It will give her strength."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is decidedly brilliant," said Lady Mowbray. +"The parterre is much more effective than Covent +Garden."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There should be a guide to tell us all the histories +of these boxes," said Taleza-Corti, with his keen +perception of values. "The opera is the record of +society. The history of America for the next twenty +years will be written here by those who descend from +the galleries into the orchestra, and those who force +their way from the orchestra into the boxes. I like +to think of your millionaires who might have begun +up there under the roof. Fonda, our great novelist, +says that the opera is the city reduced to the terms +of the village. It always impresses me. Magnificent!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>No one listened to him. The women nodded from +time to time as their glasses encountered those of +acquaintances; Beecher, troubled at a figure which +he had half perceived in the orchestra and which he +sought to distinguish, fancied a resemblance to Nan +Charters; Gunther, bored by a spectacle which had +no novelty for him, watched Mrs. Kildair, noting +the nervous hands and the occasional quickly taken +breaths, asking himself what had been the real cause +of her absence, half divining in a confused way the +truth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fontaine was languidly curious of those who +had a right to her interest. She was in her +element—jealous of this multitude as an actress, pleased +at the fine effect she had produced. And in her +triumph she was recalled to the one thing she desired +to complete her ambition, to give her that command +of this assemblage which she was forced to +acknowledge to another. Her glance went to the box +in the middle of the horseshoe, as it did covetously +each night.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father isn't here tonight," she said to +Bruce Gunther with a little surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No. There is some big pow-wow on," he answered.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair took up her glasses suddenly, turning +them haphazard. The remark revived in her all the +agitation of the afternoon.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall never be able to sit through this," she said +to herself, leaning forward. "If I only knew—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fontaine, could she have known the thoughts +that were galloping through the brain of her guest, +would have been astounded at their similarity. +Mrs. Kildair, too, had her ambitions, ambitions as +passionately held and nourished on one hope. The +interview that afternoon with Slade, an interview in +which for the first time she had made him feel the +need of her, had all at once brought the prize within +her grasp. If he could but emerge from this one +supreme danger, she said to herself that she had at +last the opportunity to rate herself here among the +leaders of this society which she coveted, had always +coveted and would never cease to covet.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me Slade and twenty millions even," she +said to herself with a great intaking of breath, "and +I can do anything. I will dominate this in five +years." But the more violently burned the fire of +her desire, the more weak and faltering was her +hope. "Ah, will he win out—can he—how is it +possible?" she said bitterly. "Oh, what a gamble it +all is—and I must sit here—continue to sit here +like a stone—while in an hour it may all be +decided!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You've seen Fornez in </span><em class="italics">Carmen</em><span>?" said Taleza-Corti +to Gunther. "Very fine."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"First appearance here," said Gunther briefly. +He touched Beecher on the arm. "Friends of yours +over there, Ted."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The Cheevers—little to your right—row +above. Hello," he added suddenly. "See who's +with them?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?" said Beecher, who did not recognize the +rest of the party.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther placed his finger on his lips, with a +warning glance at Mrs. Kildair, and then, bending +forward, said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Mrs. Kildair, who is that tall, rather +black chap in the box with the Stanley Cheevers? +He's looking this way now."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair raised her glasses.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Mapleson," she said directly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He's the head of Sontag & Company, the +jewelers, isn't he?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I believe so."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Queer looking chap—ever know him?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Why?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned, looking at the questioner with a fixity +that told him she was not entirely ignorant of his +real interest.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He must have been in Paris when you were," +he said quickly. "I hear he had quite a career +there."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned away with indifference, gazed once +more through her glasses and said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, there were quite a number of stories about +his rise. He is a man with a genius for friendships."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Rather attentive to Mrs. Cheever, isn't he?" +persisted Gunther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher did not then seize the drift of the inquiry, +still absorbed as he was in the attempt to gain a +clearer view of the profile in the orchestra which +reminded him of Nan Charters. Lady Mowbray +continued silent, busy as a true Briton in the search +for the ridiculous in this assemblage which at first +glance had impressed her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once the lights went out and the first act +was on. The entrance of Emma Fornez was eagerly +awaited as a new sensation to an audience which +yearly must be served with the novel and startling. +It had been rumored that her impersonation was +even a bit shocking, and the house, stirred by the +expectation, waited hopefully. At the end of the act +opinions were divided: the galleries applauded +frantically, moved by the sure magnetism of a great +artist, but the boxes and most of the orchestra waited +undecided, each afraid to be the leader.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I don't see anything shocking at all," said +the voice of a young woman in the next box, a note +of complaint in her voice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait—it's in the second act," answered the +sarcastic note of a man.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, the love scene," said the woman mollified.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The two young men rose, giving their places to +arriving visitors, and went into the corridors on their +rounds. Beecher was thoughtful. He had at last +assured himself that he had not been mistaken—Miss +Charters was present. He had detected her +with her glasses on his box, but he had not succeeded +in seeing who was her companion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd give a good deal to know how well +Mrs. Cheever knows Mapleson," said Gunther eagerly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, what do you mean by poking me?" asked +Beecher suddenly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't you get on? Mapleson is the head of +Sontag & Company; Sontag & Company sold the +ring to Slade. Now if Mapleson and Mrs. Cheever +are intimate it's possible—just a +chance—Mrs. Cheever may have known the facts. See?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a long shot."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But a chance. I'll pick up some one here in five +minutes who can tell me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher entered the Bloodgood box and, making +his way to the front, gave his hand to Mrs. Bloodgood. +Four or five men, impelled by curiosity, were +before him, mentally registering their reports to add +to the fund of gossip. Mrs. Bloodgood, glad to avail +herself of the opportunity, had turned her back on +the audience and was holding her head against these +social scouts, who discussed Slade, which was a +manner of discussing Majendie.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She welcomed Beecher's arrival as that of an ally +and made him the pretext of withdrawing from the +general conversation. The moment he looked at her, +he had the tact to perceive that any display of +sympathy would be an offense. There was no trace left +of the weak and desperate woman. Instead, he was +aware of an immense change in her, a transformation +that was moral, and looking into her eyes he could not +realize that he had ever seen them weep.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll force out Slade," said a voice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you tonight?" she asked quietly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In Mrs. Craig Fontaine's box," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair is there, isn't she?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes." He hesitated, but did not deliver her +message. The woman before him asked compassion +from no one. In the commotion at his side he +caught a phrase: "Wonder if Slade will kill himself +too?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you like Fornez?" he said hastily, and despite +himself he looked into her eyes to see what +effect the remark had made.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very much," she said coldly, a little staccato. +And then calmly, to end a subject that was disagreeable +to her, she turned to the other. "Fornez has +made a success, don't you think?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher left presently, oppressed by the hardness +that he felt in her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a woman who will never have any pity," +he thought as he left. Mr. Bloodgood, who +remembered him with a malicious smile, shook his hand +with extra cordiality.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you give my message?" asked Mrs. Kildair +as he took his place.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It was wiser not," he said. Then all at once, +struck by the fatigue in her face, he asked anxiously: +"Are you very tired?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, very," she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In this box, too, nothing had been spoken of +except the drama, which at that moment was centered +about John G. Slade. As nothing could possibly be +known, every one arrived with a fresh rumor, and +the burden of all was the annihilation of the +Westerner. The sudden darkness came to her as a relief. +She relaxed wearily in her chair and forced her mind +to forget itself in the sudden access of gaiety from the +stage.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>This second act was a veritable triumph for Emma +Fornez. In the scene of Don Jose's return she acted +with such fine and natural primitive passion that all +the constricted little feminine natures in the +audience were stirred by the pulsing exhibition of an +emotion they had carefully choked or reduced to +mathematics, and, really moved, trembling in their +imprisoned bodies, they applauded for the first time. Then +suddenly they ceased—a little ashamed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In descending the stairway to go behind the stage, +Beecher perceived Miss Charters in the distance of +the shifting crowd. He stopped, by a movement he +did not analyze, to speak to a purely chance +acquaintance, hoping that she would perceive him. Then he +continued to the dressing-room of the prima donna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Emma Fornez was in a state of frenzied delight.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have them, Teddy—I have them! Is it not +so?" she cried, clapping her hands together as a +child. She flung her arms about him, embracing +him. In fact, she embraced every one—even +Victorine, her maid.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The house is wild with enthusiasm," he said, +laughing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha! I made them sit up, didn't I—your cold +women! It's the second act, Teddy—the second—you +get them there. Bah! They don't even know +what I did to them." All at once she stopped, +seriously assuming a countenance of terror. "Oh, but +the critics—what will the monsters say! They +never like it when the audience is too enthusiastic."</span></p> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 65%" id="figure-66"> +<span id="aha-i-made-them-sit-up-didn-t-iyour-cold-women"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'Aha! I made them sit up, didn't I—your cold women!'"" src="images/img-248.jpg" /> +<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> +<span class="italics">"'Aha! I made them sit up, didn't I—your cold women!'"</span></div> +</div> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw Macklin applauding, Madame," said +Spinetti, putting his head into the room.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Angel!" cried Emma Fornez, and she embraced +Spinetti. Then, knowing in herself that the day was +won, she began to amuse her audience. "Do you +know what the critics will write? I'll tell you. The +audience was carried off its feet in the second act. +They will praise the first. They will say the second +was obvious, and they will praise the third act, +because there I shall do a little trick to them—in the +card scene. I shall be very noble—very tragic. I +will make a little picture of death before my eyes—with +all his bones rattling and his great big hollow +eyes, and they shall see it on my face—so! And +I'll look very steady—noble—profound—like a +queen. See?—a thing which Carmen would nevère, +nevère do, for she's a little wretch of an animal that +would be frightened to death. But you will see they +will all like it—it's their moral that you have to +serve up to them."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Third act—third act," came the running call +from the flies. "All on the stage for the third +act."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When Beecher entered the corridor, Miss Charters +was only a short distance away. He was prepared +for Lorraine as a companion, but he felt a +sudden anger at the sight of Garraboy, who in turn, +suddenly comprehending the aim of his partner's +maneuvers, looked anything but pleased.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded to him, holding out her hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She is wonderful, Teddy, wonderful. Have +you seen her? Is she pleased?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She is a great, great artist," he said with extra +warmth. "She is pleased as a child."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The two men had nodded with that impertinent +jerk of the head which in society conveys the effect +of a bucket of water.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and see me after the next act," she said, +looking at him closely.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If I can," he said hastily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He went up the steps and from the tail of his eye +saw her linger, watching him as he went. A little +contrition, a sudden sympathy came to him, but he +repressed it angrily, saying to himself between his +teeth:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy—how can she stand for that!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When he returned to the box, Mrs. Kildair and +Mrs. Fontaine were in the anteroom in low +converse. He was suddenly struck with the look of +age in Mrs. Kildair's face.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I assure you—I can go alone," she was +saying.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I would not allow it," said Mrs. Fontaine firmly. +Then turning to Beecher she said, so as not to reach +the others: "Teddy, as soon as the curtain is up, +step out. Mrs. Kildair is not well. You will take +her home. I have ordered the automobile. You +can get back for the last act."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair made no further remonstrance—she +was at the end of her tether.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit here," she said to Beecher, sitting down on +the couch. "I don't want to be noticed."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're ill!" he said alarmed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, ill," she said mechanically.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the house became still. She rose +with a return of energy and signaled him that she +was ready. Five minutes later they were in the +automobile fleeing uptown.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A moment of weakness was rare in her life, yet +she comprehended it without seeking to delude herself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At twenty I should not even have trembled," +she said to herself, sinking back into the cushioned +seat and watching the lights of the streets flash past +the window with a comforting emotion of speed. +"Now it is different. Every life has one supreme +opportunity—this is mine. I know it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Had a woman been at her side instead of Beecher, +she would have given her confidence in the terrible +necessity for sharing the emotion that was too vital +to her. As it was, she restrained herself, remaining +silent by a last effort of her will, but her hand +on the window-frame began a nervous syncopated +beating, imitating the click of the fleeing rails which +one hears on a railroad train.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are feeling better?" said the young man +in a troubled voice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Open the window—just for a moment," she answered.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The sudden blast of cold air, damp as though +laden with the tears of the city, terrified her with +its suggestion of despair and defeat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, shut it!" she said hurriedly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He obeyed and then to distract her, began:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I received your note, Rita, just before coming, +McKenna—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," she said, interrupting him, "that is +nothing. Just let me be quiet a moment—get hold +of myself."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But in a few moments she was forced to seek the +stimulus of the air again, and she cried hurriedly, +not concealing her agitation:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Open, open quick!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The crisis which she felt approaching with every +block which fell behind was so immense, the stake +so ardently coveted, so weakly feared, that she had +in the last eternal waiting moments a sensation of +vertigo, that swept down and seized her even as on +the football field before the blowing of the whistle +the stanchest player feels his heart lying before him +on the ground. She opened her lips, drinking in +the chill, revivifying draught, unaware of the strange +impression her disordered countenance in the +embrasure of the window made on the occasional +passers-by.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Better first in a village than second in Rome."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She found herself repeating the saying mechanically, +without quite understanding how it had so +suddenly leaped into her mind. Then, as the +automobile turned into her street, and she felt that he +was there waiting as he had promised, successful +or ruined; that now in ten minutes all would be over, +she would know; all at once, without that sense of +humor which deserts us in great stress, she began +to pray confusedly to some one immense, whom she +had never understood, but one who seemed to hold +all fates in the balancing of his fingers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you better? What shall I do? Shall I +come up with you?" asked Beecher, totally in the +dark.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no—wait," she said hurriedly, as the +machine ground to a stop. She did not rise at once, +stiffening in her seat, grasping the arm of the young +man until he winced under the contraction of her +fingers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good!" she said suddenly; and before he could +prevent her she was out on the sidewalk. "No, no; +stay in. Thanks, thanks a thousand times. I'll +send you back."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Before he could protest, she shut the door firmly +and nodded to the chauffeur.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The elevator boy was already at the swinging +glass doors, holding them open for her entrance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Slade here, Jo?" she said instantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, ma'am; upstairs."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How long?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"About half an hour."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She entered the elevator and descended at the +landing, waiting until it had disappeared.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now for it!" she said, pressing the bell. And +by a last display of her will, she sent through her +body a wave of cold resolution that left her outwardly +impassive with a little touch of scorn on her lips.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xviii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>It is only in the supreme crisis of a colossal +disaster that a nation, which fondly believes it +elects its governing bodies, perceives its real masters, +and then in the alarm and confusion of its +apprehension, it does not recognize what it is shown. +The group of ten men who were assembled at Gunther's, +awaiting the arrival of Slade, either in +themselves or through the influences they represented, +could bring to their support over ten billions of +capital. If it were possible to conceive of a master +spirit who could unite these ten men, forgetting +mutual jealousy and distrust, into one unanimous +body with but a single object, in five years these +ten men, without the impediment of law, could own +every necessary newspaper and magazine in the +country, operate every railroad, and, by the simple +process of reinvesting their earnings annually, +control every important industry, every necessary chain +of banks, the entire food supply of the nation, and, +at the cost of twenty million dollars every four +years and by remaining unknown, control the necessary +number of candidates in both political parties +in matters essential to their financial interests. +That such a coalition will remain a fantasy, is due +to two factors: the human nature of such individuals +and the human nature of multitudes which, were +they successful, would find the corrective in +massacre. When such a monetary alliance does take +place, it is usually from the necessity, as they see +it, of saving the country by the simple process of +enriching themselves.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When Slade arrived, he entered by the separate +entrance to Gunther's personal apartments, which +were situated in a lower wing of the monstrous +turreted granite structure which might have served for +a miniature Bastile. One of the secretaries was at +the door carefully scrutinizing all arrivals. The +moment he entered, he was aware that his fate was not +the only one that was under discussion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The wing of the house was laid out in the form +of a Maltese cross, with a square anteroom in the +center, heavily spread with silk Persian rugs, and +furnished with easy divans and upholstered chairs. +Above was a skylight, now transformed into a vast +reflector for the burst of electric lights.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Four entrances of equal height in heavy Florentine +relief gave on this anteroom; from Gunther's private +office, from the library, from the rooms of the +private secretaries, and from the outer entrance by +which Slade advanced. In the middle of the +anteroom Gunther was seated at a small card-table, +studiously engrossed in a game of solitaire. He +was a medium-seized man who, without an effect of +bulk, conveyed an instant impression of solidity, +while the head, remarkable in the changed physiognomy +of the present day, had the falcon-like, eerie +quality, characteristic of the spreading eyebrows and +deep-set glance of the American before the Civil +War. Slow in movement, slow in speech, he was +likewise slow in the deliberation with which his +scrutiny left the face he was considering.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the vigorous shock of Slade's coming, he completed +a row of carefully laid cards and lifted his head.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do, Mr. Gunther?" said Slade, +whose eye was instantly set on the half-opened doors +leading into the library, from which sounds of +altercation were issuing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade's arrival seemed to surprise Gunther, who +looked at his watch and said, without rising:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're ahead of time, Mr. Slade."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Always like to look over the ground when there's +a battle," said Slade, who in fact had intentionally +effected a surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He motioned to the secretary, who, moving on +springs, brought cigars and a light.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll have to keep you waiting, Mr. Slade. There +is a conference taking place."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade glanced from the library to the closed doors +of the secretaries' room.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How many conferences have you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther turned over a card, studied it and carefully +laid it down. It was his manner of settling +a question he did not wish to answer.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade was not offended by the rebuff. Holding +most men in antagonism, he had conceived a violent +admiration for Gunther and as he was the man above +all others whom he wished to impress, he imitated +his taciturnity, turning his imagination on the +probable groups behind the three double doors, which +once had closed on a famous conspiracy in a palace +of turbulent medieval Florence.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther at this moment was probably the most +powerful personal force in the United States, and, +what was more extraordinary, in an era of public +antipathy to its newly created magnates, enjoyed +universal respect. As he showed himself rarely, +never gave interviews, and surrounded himself by +choice with that inciting element of seclusion which +Napoleon by calculation adopted on his return from +Italy, the public had magnified what it could not +perceive. Even as royal personages of distinctly +bourgeois caliber have been impressed on history by +the exigencies of the kingly tradition as models of +tact and statesmanship, so events and the necessities +of the public imagination had combined to throw +about the personality of Gunther an atmosphere of +grandiose mystery. Just as it is true that what is +a virtue in one man is a defect in another, the +imagination he possessed was much less than he was +credited with and his power lay in his ability to +control it. For imagination, which is the genius of +progress, in a banker approaches a crime.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>His strength lay in being that inevitable man who +results as the balance wheel of conflicting interests. +For beyond the Stock Exchange, which is a purely +artificial organization, the financial powers will +always create what amounts to a saving check, around +one inevitable personality, whom they can trust and +about whom, in times of common danger, they can +rally as to a standard. At this moment, the invested +wealth of the country, frightened at the cataclysm +which threatened it, had thrown its resources +implicitly into the hands of this one man, who came +forward at the psychological time to stop the panic, +issuing his orders, and marshaling his forces with +a response of instant obedience.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's going on here?" said Slade to himself. +"And what's the proposition they're reckoning on +squeezing out of me? I'd like to know what's going +on behind those doors."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>As though in response to his wish the doors of +the secretaries' room swung, and a round, rolling +little man of fifty, in evening dress, came hurriedly +out, holding in his hand a slip of paper. He +approached the stolid player with precipitation, and yet, +obeying a certain instinct of deference, which +showed itself despite his disorder, he waited until +Gunther had completed a play he had in hand +before blurting out:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Gunther, this is the best we can do."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther took the slip which was offered to him, +glanced at it and returned it abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not sufficient," he said and took up his pack of +cards.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The emissary, crestfallen and desperate, returned +to the conference and at the opening of the door +the sound of violent discussion momentarily filled +the anteroom as a sudden blast of storm.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have it," said Slade, who had recognized Delancy +Gilbert, of the firm of Gilbert, Drake & Bauerman, +brokers and promoters of mining interests in +Mexico, whose failure had been circulated from lip +to lip in the last forty-eight hours. "I see that +game. Gilbert's to be mulcted of his Osaba +interests—for whom though? The United Mining, +undoubtedly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Five minutes later the doors of the library opened +in turn and a military figure, gray, bent, with tears +in his eyes, came slowly out, the type of convenient +figureheads which stronger men place in the +presidencies of subsidiary corporations. He likewise +placed a sheet of paper before the financier, watching +him from the corner of his eye, his white finger +working nervously in the grizzled mustache.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We've agreed on this, Mr. Gunther," he said +desperately, in a voice shaken by suppressed emotion. +"That's as far as we can go—and that means ruin!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther examined the sheet with slow attention, +nodding favorably twice; but at a third column he +shook his head and, seizing a pencil, jotted down a +figure, carefully drawing a circle around it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I must have," he said and returned +to his solitaire.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The emissary hesitated, seemed about to argue, +and then, with a hopeless heave of his shoulders, +retired. Gunther frowned but the frown was called +forth by an unfavorable conjunction of the cards. +Not once had he seemed to notice the presence of +Slade. In the same position the promoter could not +have helped stealing a glance to witness the effect. +Slade registered the observation, mentally admitting +the difference.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What does he keep me here for?" he thought, +but almost immediately answered the question: +"Effect on the others, of course. Well, let them +pull their own chestnuts out of the fire."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the last emissary he had recognized General +Arthur Roe Paxton, President of the Mohican +Trust, exploiter of certain Southern oil fields, equally +involved in the Osaba speculation. The knowledge +of the operations which were being discussed—which +he readily divined were the surrender of +important holdings—prepared him for the demands +he must expect to meet.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Gunther swept the cards together, +glanced at his watch, and pressed an electric button.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Slade," he said, fixing his lantern-like stare +upon the promoter, "I need not tell you that we are +in a desperate situation, that it is time for +action—decisive and immediate action."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade answered by an impatient jerking of his +thumb, and, rising as he beheld the secretary +returning from the private office where he had been sent +by a look of Gunther's, said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand perfectly. If the gentlemen whom +I am to meet understand the situation as well as I +do, we shall have no trouble."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther continued to study him thoughtfully, +struck by the confidence of his attitude where +desperation might have been expected. He seemed for +a moment about to say something, but presently, +giving a sign to his secretary, began thoughtfully +to shuffle the cards.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the private office a group of men were +assembled about the long table. The disposition of +Slade had been but an incident in the discussion +which had been called to decide upon the methods +to be pursued in coming to the support of the +market, and the deliberation had left its marks of +dissension. Slade, on entering, rapidly surveyed the +group, perceived its discord, and divided it into its +component interests.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The United Mining is the key," he said, on +recognizing Haggerty and Forscheim.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The group was like a trans-section of that +conflicting America which seems to hold the destiny +of types. Fontaine, one of the landed proprietors +of the city, French of descent and aristocratic by the +purifying experience of two generations, was next +to Haggerty, a cross-grained, roughly hewn type of +the indomitable Irish immigrant of the seventies, who +had risen to power out of the silver mines of the +eighties. Leo Marx, olive in tint, whispering in +manner, thin-veined and handsome, represented the +Jewish aristocracy that had ingrained itself in the +great banking houses of New York; while Forscheim, +leading spirit of five brothers, abrupt, too aggressive +or too compliant, cunning and unsatisfied, was the +Hebrew of speculation, the creator of the great +corporation known as the United Mining.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Judge Seton B. Barton, representative of the great +oil interests, was the grim Yankee, unrelieved by his +modifying humor, implacable in small things as well +as great, knowing no other interest in life except the +passion of acquiring.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Kraus, an ungainly, bulky German-American, had +not moved from the half-retreating position he had +taken on seating himself. He answered with a +short movement of his head, watching every one +with covetous, suspicious eyes that glimmered weakly +over the spectacles which had slipped to the bridge +of his nose, never suggested a move, and gave his +assent the last. He was the owner of a fortune +estimated at three hundred millions, acquired in +lumber holdings over a territory in the West which +would have made another Belgium.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McBane, one of the strongest figures which the +rise of the great steel industry had propelled into +the public light, was a short, fussy, brisk little man, +tenacious, agile, obstinate in opinion, while +outwardly smiling with a general air of delighted +surprise at his own success. He was the present +active force in the group of steel magnates whose +personal fortunes alone amounted to over three +quarters of a billion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Marcus Stone, president of the greatest banking +force of the country, the Columbus National, was a +middle-westerner, sprung from the hardy soil of +Ohio, virile, deep-lunged, direct and domineering, +agent of colossal enterprises, rooted in conservatism +and regarding his vocation as an almost sacred call. +He accounted himself a poor man; he was worth +only three millions.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert V. Steele, head of the legal firm of Steele, +Forshay & Benton, corporation lawyers, was the +type of the brilliant Southerner, adventuring into +the Eldorado of New York as the Gascon seeks +Paris or the Irishman the lure of London. He +might almost be said to have created a new +profession—the lawyer-promoter—and in his capacious, +fertile head had been evolved the schemes of +law-avoiding combinations that others received the credit +for. In public he was one of the stanchest defenders +of the Constitution and an eloquent exponent of the +sanctity of the judiciary.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>With the exception of Fontaine and Marx, in +this varied group of master-adventurers, all had +begun life with little better than the coats on their +backs, and the colossal fortunes which roughly +totaled two billions had been amassed in virtually +twenty years. This is a point which future +economists may ponder over with profit.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At Slade's entrance the conversation abruptly +ceased and each in his own manner studied the new +arrival; some with languid, confident curiosity; +Forscheim, who had old scores to settle, with a glance of +unrestrained satisfaction; Steele, leaning a little +forward, eager in his inquisitorial mind to divine the +attack, already convinced that such a personality as +Slade would not come without an aggressive defense.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The second glance reassured Slade, for he +distinguished in the group the conflicting rivalries and +perceived by what slender checks the irrepressible +jealousies and antagonisms had been stilled.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If they've got together," he said to himself with +a sudden delight in a favorable hazard, "it's because +they're scared to the ground and they want to shut +off the panic first and trim me second. Good! +That's what I wanted to be sure of."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He advanced to the head of the table, swinging +into place a heavy chair which he swept through the +air as though it had been paper, and, resolved to +acquire the advantage of initiative, said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, gentlemen, let's get right down to +business. I've come to get five millions."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In their astonishment several pushed back their +chairs with a harsh, grating sound. Forscheim +laughed aloud insolently, but Steele, sensitive to small +things, instantly determined to employ caution, to +be the last to crush him if he failed, and the first +to support him if he had indeed the power to survive.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Slade," said Stone in his blasting manner, +"your remark is in bad taste. The situation you +are facing is an exceedingly serious one and only a +prompt compliance on your part with the measures +we have determined upon to avert a national +calamity, will save you from bankruptcy"—he +stopped, but not from hesitation, adding with a +sudden flush of anger—"and worse."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We are here," said McBane, in tones of conviction +which produced a nodding of assenting heads, +"in the performance of a public duty. In carrying +that out we do not intend to allow the fate of one +man or a dozen to interfere with the steps we intend +to take to restore public confidence."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And I repeat," said Slade, with a disdainful +smile, "that I am here to get five millions; and you +are going to give it to me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>An outburst of exclamations followed this +assertion, half angry, half contemptuous, above which +was heard Forscheim's shrill nasal voice saying:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Dere is a shtate examiner, Mr. Shlade, don't +forget dat."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My books are kept as carefully as yours, Forscheim," +said Slade, with a sudden angry concentration +of his glance. He had once in a committee +meeting taken Forscheim by the throat and flung him +out of doors—a fear which the other could never +forget. Then he struck the table a resounding blow +with his fist, stilling the clamor.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait!" he exclaimed, rising until his bulky +figure towered over the table. "Don't let's waste +time. Come to the point. You think I've come +here to receive your terms. You are mistaken. +I've come here to deliver an ultimatum—my ultimatum."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you realize, sir," said Judge Barton sternly, +"what the object of this meeting is? We are here +to preserve the prosperity of this country for the +next ten years, the homes and savings of millions +of persons."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, that is not why you are here," said Slade +contemptuously. "I'll tell you why you are here. +You are here to protect your own interests—first, +last, and always! Because a panic to you means +hundreds of millions, the end of development, the +closing of markets; because at the end of a stock +market panic is an industrial panic, and the end of +any protracted individual depression means the +colossal flattening out of your billion dollar trusts. +That's why there'll never be another '93—that's +the one good thing in the present situation the +public doesn't know. There isn't going to be a '93 now, +and you know it and I know it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose, Mr. Slade, you listen to our +stipulations first," said McBane, but in a more conciliatory +tone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beyond his exposition which had struck all with its +piercing verity, Slade had effected over them an +almost physical mastery, which men grudgingly are +forced to yield to masculine strength.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know your demands," said Slade instantly. +"Oh, there is no informer present. Nothing +difficult. I know you and the way your minds work. +You have three conditions: first, I am to resign +the presidency of the Associated Trust; second, +sell my stock control to a syndicate you have +organized, which will stand as a guarantee to the public; +third, the taking over of all my holdings in the +Osaba territory by the United Mining Company. +Am I right?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He did not need to wait for a reply; the answer +was plain upon their countenances.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, gentlemen, I'm going to finish up," he +said, pursuing his advantage. "Remember one +thing: I'm not a Majendie. I fight to the last +breath and when I'm downed I carry everything I +get my hands on down with me.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, let's be perfectly plain. I know where I +stand. If Majendie and the Atlantic Trust hadn't +gone to smash, there wouldn't be a ghost of a show +for me; you'd squeeze every last cent I had. I know +it. I knew it then when I knew it was Majendie +or me. But you see Majendie's dead and the +Atlantic Trust—three hundred and eighty millions—has +closed its doors. That makes all the difference +in the world. You don't want to trim me—not +primarily. Forscheim and the United Mining do—that's +their private affair. What you men who count +want, I repeat, is to stop this panic—to get me out +of the way and stop the panic if you can; if you +can't get me out of the way, to stop the panic at +once—now—within twenty-four hours! Now, +gentlemen, I defy you to let the Associated Trust +close its doors tomorrow and prevent, with all your +money, the wreck of every industry in the country."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You overestimate the importance of such a failure," +said Fontaine slowly, but without aggressiveness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Slade's attack had made a profound impression.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have taken particular care that if the Associated +fails, it'll be the biggest smash on record," +said Slade, ready now to play his trump card.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" demanded Haggerty, +startled, while the others waited expectantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Just that," said Slade, not unwilling that they +should know the depth of his game. "If the Associated +fails, sixty-seven institutions fail from here +to San Francisco. I have taken care of that in the +last two months."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You haf ingreased your oplications at sooch a +time!" fairly shrieked Forscheim, who saw his +victory eluding him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You bet I did," said Slade. "I made sure that +I couldn't be </span><em class="italics">allowed</em><span> to fail."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He took from his pocket a folded sheet and handed +it to Steele, who had a moment before finally +determined to come to his support.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what failure means. Pass it around," +he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The lawyer elevated his eyebrows in astonishment. +The disclosure of how Slade by negotiating +loans with a number of subsidiary institutions +throughout the country had made them united in +his general fate, completed the dawning recognition +of a master which had been forming in his mind.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He will beat them," he thought, passing on the +paper. "He will go far. I must be his friend." Aloud +he said carefully: "Of course, Mr. Slade, at +the bottom the affairs of the Associated Trust are +absolutely solvent."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Solvent under any system of banking in the world +which does not withhold ready money on proper +guarantees," said Slade, looking at him with a glance +that showed the lawyer he had received his alliance; +"solvent as the Atlantic Trust was, is, and will be +proved to be. You gentlemen know that as well +as I do."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, Mr. Slade," said Steele, with an +appearance of aggressiveness which the other +understood perfectly, "one thing must be understood—the +present speculative operations of the Trust +Companies can not go on."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, gentlemen, to finish up," said Slade, who +seized the hint. "Here's my answer: I will agree +to any legislation, in fact will urge it, that will place +the Trust Companies on the basis of the National +Banks; that is, on the same conservative basis of +loans and transactions. That is right. I am now +convinced that it is for the best." He allowed a +slight smile to show and continued: "I will resign +as President of the Associated Trust three months +from to-day. That I had already determined on. +For what I wish to do, that would only be an +embarrassment. You will lend me the five millions I +wish and, better still, tomorrow morning make a +simple announcement to the effect that, having +consulted on the affairs of the Associated Trust, you +have found no reasons for apprehension, and +announce that you will come to its support. Sign it +Fontaine, Gunther, McBane, Marx and Stone, and +the run on the banks will end in twenty-four hours. +Tomorrow morning I will personally assure Mr. Steele, +by an examination of my books, that affairs +are as I have described. After this examination you +can place five millions to my disposal—if necessary. +Believe me, this is a much better way to end the +panic. You reassure public confidence by your +guarantee. The other way, by forcing my resignation, +you create an impression that everything is rotten. +Besides, the first way has this advantage—it +is the only way. That's my word, gentlemen; if +you intend to stop the panic you've got to float me!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>An hour later, having yielded not a jot of his +position, turning a deaf ear to threats, expostulations +and arguments, he rose victorious.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the anteroom he went up to Gunther, who was +still bowed over his solitaire, waiting grimly until +his word had been carried out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Gunther," said Slade, stopping at the table, +"we have come to an understanding. The gentlemen +in the other room were agreeably surprised at +my exposition of the affairs of the Associated Trust. +They are going to lend me five millions."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" said Gunther in a sort of grunt but +with a countenance so impassive that Slade was +moved to admiration.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Gunther," he said, suddenly carried away by a +feeling of prophetic elation, "up to now you've +known me only as a speculator. Now I'm going +to become a conservative force. In a month I'm +coming to you with a proposition. You're the only +man I would ever trust. Good-night."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>His automobile was waiting. He threw himself +riotously into it, giving the address of Mrs. Kildair's +apartment; and as he felt the pleasant, exhilarating +sensation which the speed of his machine conveyed +to him, he repeated, feeling suddenly how at last +he had emerged from the perils of the first phase +which he had once so frankly defined:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, I'll be conservative!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Unlike Gunther, who had behind him the traditions +of generations of authority, Slade had that +typical quality so perplexing in the American +millionaire of sudden fortune—the childlike eagerness +for admiration. When he arrived at Mrs. Kildair's +and found that she was still absent, he was consumed +with a nervous impatience. He seated himself at +the piano, playing over clumsily refrains of the crude +ranch songs which came to him as an echo of his +earlier struggling days. But these echoes of a past +conflict seemed only to whet his impatience. He +ended with a crashing discord and rose, lighting +another cigar, pacing the broad space of the studio +with rapid, restless strides, surprised at the +annoyance which her absence brought him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When Mrs. Kildair entered, let in by Henriette, +her maid, Slade flung aside his cigar and strode +impatiently forward.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>One glance at his triumphant face told her what +she wanted to know. She made a quick sign to him +with her hand and turned her back, disengaging her +opera cloak with exaggerated slowness, drawing a +deep breath. Then she sent Henriette upstairs to +her room to wait until she called.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Congratulations," she said calmly, entering the +studio and extending her hand. "You have won!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know?" he said, taken back by her +composure.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is there—in your eyes," she said, passing +her fingers so close to them that he seemed to feel +their soft contact. "Tell me all about it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I've beaten them—Fontaine, Barton, +Forscheim, Haggerty, the whole lot of them," he +cried with a gleeful laugh. "More, I've forced +myself into their hidebound circle. You'll see—in a +month I'll be one of them."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At times roguishly delighted as a boy, at others +with flashes of primitive power, he related to the +eager woman all the details of the night and the +desperate stake he had played to make a failure so +colossal that they themselves would recoil before it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And if Majendie had not killed himself?" she +said breathlessly, womanlike perceiving the hazards +of fate.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But he did!" he cried impatiently, unwilling to +admit the element of chance in the destiny he had +hewn for himself. But the thought sobered him. +He looked down from the height to which his +ambition had flung him. "It's true. It was either +Majendie or me," he said quietly. "Shall I tell you +something? That night we were here I knew he +was lost—that he would do it. Don't ask me how +I knew!" Then, shaking off the memory as an +evil dream, he continued, extending his arm in crude +magnetic gestures: "Well, that's over. I am where +I want to be; the rest is easy. In a month—two +months—they will see, Forscheim and Haggerty, +how the trap they laid for me has sprung against +them. Tonight will be worth twenty millions to me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you mean?" she said eagerly, but she +did not look at him. Slade, triumphant in his brute +power, inspired her with an emotion she did not +dare to show him yet.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Forscheim and Haggerty, the United Mining," +he said, forgetting his habitual caution in the now +present desire to dazzle and overcome this woman +who had so resisted him, who had become so +suddenly necessary to him, "have laid their trap to get +hold of the Osaba territory. They've stripped +Gilbert and old General Paxton of their holdings, and +they were sure they'd strip me. The Osaba gold +fields will be one day worth hundreds of millions—another +Eldorado. Well, they'll get a third interest +tonight. I've got a third, and Striker and Benz. +Mexican United, who've fought them tooth and +nail, have another third. Each now has got to have +what I've got or get out. I've got the control and +when I sell—" He ended with a laugh. "I've +licked Forscheim before but it will be nothing to +this. They thought they had me down and they +played into my hands!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he changed his tone as the memory came +to him of Gunther impassively waiting in his anteroom.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now they'll see what I can do," he said savagely. +"Gunther's the only real man among them. I must +have Gunther. With him I can do what I +want—construct, construct!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She rose, stopping him as he most wanted to continue.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You must go now," she said quietly; "I've already +done what I shouldn't."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped, infuriated at this check to his +inclinations, for, beyond his victory over the men he +had fought, she still eluded him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you care what happened to me—much?" +he asked savagely.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I was surprised how much I cared," she +said slowly, keeping her eyes on his.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>There are certain strong, direct characters who are +most vulnerable in the moment of their greatest +exaltation as the generality of men are weakest in their +defeats. She saw in his eyes how much she lacked +to his complete triumph and suddenly seized the +opportunity by the forelock.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why are you afraid to marry?" she said vigorously. +"You are a child; you don't understand life. +You don't know how to draw from it the incitements +it can give you. You wish to be a great figure and +you think you can remain an outcast."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" he said roughly, and +advancing he took her by the shoulders without her +recoiling.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You want to be another Gunther," she said, +meeting his glance with an intensity of ambition +greater than his, "and you wish to fight like a +guerrilla. You think you need no one, and you need +admiration, confidence, to be spurred on, flattered, +cajoled, made to feel your greatness, to have it +dinned into your ears day and night, to be surrounded +by it. You have the vanity of a god and you don't +know how to feed it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what would you do?" he said, still holding +her from him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I would make you what you should be: a +personage—not a wanderer," she said with +extraordinary energy. "I'd make your home a court; I'd +show you what it meant to step into your box at +the opera and have the feeling that every eye in +the house turned to you. You want to do great +things—but you want to feel that you have done +great things, that others are impressed by them, +envy and look up to you. You want that stimulus +and there is only one way to get it. Take your +place in society, where you belong among the great +figures."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I find my own stimulus," he said, looking at her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, John Slade," she said furiously. "You +think because you have always done what you want +with women that that will continue. It won't. You +are at a dangerous age. You have depended upon +women; you cannot shake it off. The day will +come when you'll be caught as every man is who +plays beyond his youth and strength. Women will +either hinder you or push you on. Make up your +mind now. Which do you want?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you!" he said, suddenly caught by her +words that came as an answer to his new view of +himself; and violently, characteristically, he added, +enfolding her: "And when I want a thing, I want +it now! Get your wraps on. We're going over to +Jersey now and get married."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," she said firmly though her heart was +beating so that she thought he must hear it.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got me. I never expected it, but I've +got to have you," he said and brutally, without +thinking whether he hurt her or not, he forced her +head up to his. She did not resist, intoxicated, +carried away by her absolute helplessness in his arms. +Then, confident, he renewed his demand that they +should be married that night, at once.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," she said, disengaging herself, and +though all her natural being responded to his +demand, her intellectual self conquered, knowing full +well that beyond winning him, she must always +maintain over him a certain moral superiority. "No. +To do what I want to do, we must not give any one +the slightest occasion to talk. Such an act as this +would be suicidal."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When then?" he said furiously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Announce our engagement tomorrow," she said, +"and in a week we can be married very quietly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A week!" he cried indignantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Or less," she said, smiling; "and now you must go."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You haven't said, 'I love you,'" he said with a +last flash of antagonistic suspicion.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When I say it you will be satisfied," she said, +with a look that revealed to him a new, undiscovered +world.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Rita," he persisted doggedly, seizing her wrist, +"I know what you can do, what you'll make of us, +but that's not all. I don't want any cold-blooded +reason-and-logic marriage. Look here. You've +got to love me—like hell—do you understand?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned on him swiftly, opening her lips until +her white teeth showed in their tense grip. Then, +suddenly veiling her emotion in a relaxing smile, +she said, as she rang for Henriette:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No woman could find it hard to love you, John +Slade."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When he had left she remained standing a long +while very thoughtfully. Then she went quietly +upstairs and fell almost immediately into a quiet, +profound sleep. Her own self-possession surprised +her; but unusual natures have this over common-place +ones that they are continually surprising themselves.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>When the next day Beecher reached his club he +found all discussions centered upon John G. Slade +and the astonishing and incomprehensible outcome +of the conference at Gunther's of which +naturally only the usual misinformation was known. +The morning papers had contained a reassuring +statement, backed by powerful names, of the +condition of the Associated Trust, with promises of +support. Gunther had publicly announced that he +would bring twenty millions of ready money to +relieve the financial stringency and, if that were not +sufficient, twenty millions more. When the man in +the Street comprehended that the great fortunes of +the country had authorized this step, the effect was +instantaneous. The stock market opened with loss +of two to three points and immediately recovered +this decline and, for the first time during the week, +registered distinct advances. The runs on the banks +still continued, but the lines of depositors were +apparently less. At eleven o'clock Rupert V. Steele +visibly entered the offices of the Associated Trust +and, advancing to the deserted window of the +cashier, made the first deposit. In a minute it was +publicly announced that five millions of dollars had +just been deposited to the credit of the great +Columbus National. Half of the waiting line, wavered, +turned and went home.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Slade's turned the trick," said Gunther, +joining his friend. "But how he managed to +wriggle through is a mystery."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't seen the papers," said Beecher. "What +do they say about Emma Fornez?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't be better. The third act bowled 'em +over," said Gunther, laughing. Beecher had told +him of the diva's prophecy. "By the way, Ted, my +long shot may not prove such a wild one. Mapleson +is a close friend of the Cheevers—rather attentive +to the lady, who from all accounts is a rather frisky +one. I telephoned McKenna about it and he seemed +distinctly interested."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna?" said Beecher, opening his eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, yes," said Gunther, laughing; "but forget +I told you. Besides, I have a feeling that things +will open up now."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is McKenna on the trail of any one?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, yes," said Gunther slowly; "and I don't +think it'll be long now before we hear of him. How +about lunch?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment a boy arrived with summons for +Beecher to the telephone. He did not recognize the +voice immediately.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know who it is?" said a woman.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He thought he recognized the tones of Miss +Rivers, whom he had shamefully neglected in the +excitement of the last days; but, warily, he did not +commit himself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're disguising your voice," he said cautiously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all. You are not very flattering—but +when one listens so much to the voice of Emma +Fornez—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Charters," he said instantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At last."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was suddenly troubled at the discovery, for he +had sincerely persuaded himself that he did not +intend to see her again.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She is going to reproach me," he thought +uneasily, "for not returning to see her last night. +The devil! Well, I shall tell her the truth—I didn't +like her companion."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But instead of reproaches she said in very good +humor:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look out, I can be very jealous. What are +you doing tonight?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am dining out," he said, fibbing promptly, +determined to remain firm.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh—I'm sorry," she said, with a quick +dropping of her tone. "I wanted you to take +me to a dress rehearsal that will be very amusing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry too."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you doing this afternoon, around tea +time?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have an engagement," he said truthfully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"With Emma Fornez?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not very lucky, am I?" she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The wounded tone in her voice made him feel a +bit ashamed. He saw that she would not ask him +again and relented a little.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you be in at four? I can drop in for a +little chat then," he said, amazed at his own +yielding even as he spoke the words.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come then. I want very much to see you," she +answered but without lightness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I'm in it again!" he said ruefully as he +left the telephone. "What the deuce made me say +I'd go. Just because I didn't want to hurt +her—O Lord! Steady, old boy, steady!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Outside the booth he found Gunther, an afternoon's +paper in his hand, scanning it with excitement +on every feature.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Ted, here's news indeed," he cried. +"What do you think of that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He pointed to the headline on the front page +where the engagement of John G. Slade to Mrs. Rita +Kildair was announced in large type. The two +young men looked at each other in profound +astonishment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove!" said Beecher, suddenly enlightened. +"That's what was at the bottom last night! Now +I understand." In a moment he comprehended the +full measure of the agony of uncertainty she must +have suffered at his side in the returning automobile. +"So that was her game after all!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now things'll begin to move," said Gunther +eagerly. "If she really knows who's the thief, as +McKenna believes, the ring ought to be returned in +forty-eight hours."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because now that she is publicly engaged to +Slade, any one who has been trading on the knowledge +of how she got the ring won't have a shred to +blackmail her with. You see it now becomes the +engagement ring that Slade gave her and she can +move openly; and from what I've seen of her, she'll +lose no time. Ted, I'll prophesy in forty-eight hours +we'll hear something about that ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you're right," said Beecher as they +went into luncheon; and, thinking of the curious +conjunction of Mrs. Kildair's and Miss Charters' +prophecy as to the return of the ring, he said to +himself unwillingly: "If the ring is returned, does that +mean that Mrs. Bloodgood took it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A little after four he went to pay his call on +Miss Charters and as he had become accustomed to +her perplexing change of moods, he wondered in +what temper she would receive him. She was in a +Russian blouse of gray corduroy relieved by a broad +lace collar and fitted loosely to her straight, lithe +body by a belt at the waist, an effect of girlish +simplicity, very yielding and artless.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She did not wait for him in the sitting-room but +came out into the hall, taking his hat and stick +herself and leading the way. Once in the cosy +sitting-room she stopped, turning to face him and suddenly +taking his hands in hers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me look at you," she said, drawing off and +raising her eyes to his thoughtfully, while her lips +twisted a little into a most serious sternness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Little imp!" he thought grimly, prepared +against her wiles and yet a little startled at this +figure of a young girl which so tantalizingly confronted +him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She saw at once, in the amused composure of his +face, that she had been mistaken in ascribing his +absence to the pique of jealousy. What she had on +her lips she did not say, and suddenly alert at the +realization that her presence no longer troubled him +she drew him toward the fireplace, leading him to a +great armchair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There," she said, laughing, "you will see how +we treat the prodigal son. Sit down." She brought +a cushion and insisted upon placing it behind his +back. "Don't get up. A scotch and soda? Sit +still—I like to mix it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She went to a table and presently came back with +the tumbler, offering it to him with a well simulated +attitude of submission. When he took it, she dropped +a curtsey and going to the library table, +returned with a box of cigars and the matches. +Continuing always the same game, determined to force +a laugh, she lit the match, holding it to him between +her rosy palms.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is your lordship satisfied?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She lit a cigarette in turn and camping down on +the bear rug, Eastern fashion, puffed a ring of +smoke in the direction of the fire. For a moment +neither spoke, she studying the embers, he +enjoying this new side to her and awaiting the next +development.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm very unhappy," she said at last, without +looking at him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry," he answered sympathetically.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have had a great disappointment. I read that +play of Hargrave's again—there's nothing to it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You surprise me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The fact was that Brockway, Stigler's stage director +had torn it to pieces. She continued, repeating +what Brockway had said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The trouble is, it's not actable. It's like all +plays that read well—I should have known it. +There's no dramatic action. Then, it has one great +fault—all young writers have it—you see, every +scene should be a unit in itself, express one +dramatic emotion, develop it, and increase it; and +Hargrave puts three or four emotions in the same +page—five or six," she continued indignantly. "It's +all mixed up—topsy-turvy—no actress could +make an effect." (This had been its chief merit two +days before.) "It's very sad; I shall never find a +play."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You were very enthusiastic a few days ago," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Was I?" she said resentfully. "You see, the +trouble is, in reading you imagine things that aren't +there."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So Hargrave isn't a genius after all?" he asked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He is very conceited—insufferably so," she said +abruptly. "But you don't understand—it's the +disappointment to me—I shall never find a play. +Sometimes I feel like giving it all up. It's +terrible—breaking your heart day after day. Yes, +sometimes I feel like never acting again."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are in a blue mood," he said cheerfully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything has gone wrong," she said, pouting. +"Even you have changed!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him with a look of a tired child, +longing to climb into his lap to be consoled.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How so?" he said, opening his eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, have I offended you?" she asked gently, +seeing that she could not unbend him by playing +upon his sympathy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not the least."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She would have preferred any answer but this.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why wouldn't you go with me tonight?" she +said quickly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I have another engagement," he said, +instinctively glancing at the clock.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She saw the look, sprang up from the rug furiously, +and leaping toward the mantelpiece seized the +offending clock and flung it across the room in a +tantrum.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Go to your Emma Fornez!" she said, stamping +her foot. "If you are going to sit here and +measure the minutes, you can go!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, startled at the passion of jealousy he +had aroused.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I told you I had an engagement," he began.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!" she burst out, still the prey of her +anger. "You know very well you can keep her +waiting half an hour if you wish, and you know +very well that you can put off your engagement +to-night—or is it with her, always with her?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't care to discuss my engagements," he said +coldly, an emotion which he was far from feeling, +for the sudden wild-eyed fury into which he had +plunged her awoke in him something that thrilled +him, as he had been thrilled the day he had returned +Mrs. Bloodgood to her home, at the thought of what +a consuming passion might be.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you tag around with her?" she continued +heedlessly. "I should think you'd have more +regard for your dignity—for what people +think—Emma Fornez—ah!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes +and then, feeling he had perceived it, she exclaimed: +"If I cry it's because I am +disappointed—disillusionized—angry!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned her back and went quickly to the +window where the little Dresden clock lay shattered in +a corner. She picked it up and looked at it, +swallowing her anger. Then, as he continued to keep +the silence, she came back, without looking at him, +placed the clock on the mantelpiece again and said +coldly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it is time for you to go—not to keep her +waiting."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-afternoon," he said with a bow, and left +the apartment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When he reached the street, he was overcome with +surprise.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove!" he said, swinging joyfully along. +"Is it possible after all that she does care about +me? How her eyes blazed—the little fury. That +at least wasn't acting!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>And though he remained until late, amused at +Emma Fornez, he felt the flame of the other +presence about him, obtruding itself at every moment; +and he who had seen the play of strong emotions +in Mrs. Bloodgood and Mrs. Kildair, avidly began +to feel what it would mean to be loved with such +intensity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Emma Fornez questioned him about Miss Charters +but for the first time he resolutely concealed +from her what had taken place.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>That night on his return to his rooms, he found a +short note from Bruce Gunther:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR TED,</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Be at McKenna's offices to-morrow—ten sharp. +Something doing.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>B.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. Keep this to yourself—</span><em class="italics">savez</em><span>?</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xx"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR TEDDY,</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>I am very much ashamed at what happened yesterday. +Please forgive my ill-humor and some day, when you have +a spare hour, do come to see me.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<dl class="docutils"> +<dt class="noindent"><span>Very cordially your friend,</span></dt> +<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>NAN CHARTERS.</span></p> +</dd> +</dl> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>This note was the first which Beecher read on +awakening the next morning. He had slept by +fits and starts, troubled by the memory of his last +interview with the young actress. The sudden +unchecked tempest of jealousy and anger which had +revealed to him the dramatic intensity of the woman +had made a more haunting impression on his +imagination than all her premeditated appeals.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If after all she does love me? How tremendous +it would be," he had said to himself a dozen +times, turning restlessly, in the half stupor of +waking sleep.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He lived over again the scene—only this time it +seemed to him that when she had flung the clock from +her in a passion, he had laughed joyfully and caught +her struggling in his arms, exulting in this rage which +burned so close to him. His first impulse on reading +her note was to telephone her immediately, but +he resisted this movement, saying to himself that that +would be surrendering all his advantage.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll call up later," he thought with a smile; "that +will be much better."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He went eagerly down to McKenna's office, +wondering what surprise was in store. Gunther and +McKenna were already in the latter's private office, +as he entered, and with the first look he took at +the detective's smiling countenance, he perceived +that he must be on the track of something significant.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We were discussing Mrs. Kildair's engagement," +said Gunther. "McKenna agrees with me that it +will expedite matters wonderfully."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How did Slade manage it?" said Beecher at once.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The detective, without answering, went to his desk +and picked up a square of cardboard on which he +had pasted two clippings from the newspapers, one +the announcement signed by Gunther, Sr., Marx and +Fontaine, giving notice of their support of the +Associated Trust, and the other the bare announcement +of the prospective marriage of John G. Slade +and Mrs. Rita Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going to preserve this and hang it up over +my mantelpiece," he said, looking at it thoughtfully, +"and when I have an idle hour, I'll stretch out, +smoke up and study it. A couple of million people +must have seen that—and that's all they'll ever +know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I can only—deduce," he said, a twinkle in his +eye. He glanced at the clock and said hurriedly: +"Now we must get down to business. I am +expecting some one in half an hour who ought to +particularly interest you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You know who took the ring!" said Beecher +instantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know several things," said McKenna briskly; +"but everything in place. I promised you gentlemen, +as you are interested in those things, a little history +of the party that was at Mrs. Kildair's that night. +It's nothing as literary style goes—just facts. Here +it is. I'll skip the personal descriptions."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He took up a bundle of notes, seated himself on the +corner of the flat desk, and began to read:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheever, Stanley: Age 48; married; old New +York family; left a fortune estimated at $425,000, at +the death of his father, Ganet Cheever, when he was +twenty-eight. Lived ten years abroad, principally +London; inveterate gambler; lost heavily at Monte +Carlo—sum estimated at $125,000; later became +involved in a gambling scandal in England, but it was +hushed up by his payment of a large sum to cover +notes given. Continued to lose heavily at St. Petersburg, +Baden and Paris; began borrowing large sums, +meeting obligations with difficulty. Declared +bankruptcy in Colorado, where he had gone to promote +a mine; his statements contested by creditors who +brought suit; contest settled out of court by +payment by his relatives to avoid a family scandal. +Returned to New York and engaged himself as an +exploiter of well-known wine merchants. Married +three years ago Lydia Borgen, daughter of a large +importing grocer, who brought him $100,000. +Lives at rate of $20,000 a year. Only known +occupation gambling; said to have won fifty-five +thousand dollars in three nights' play from Kane +Wentworth and Thomas Haggerty, Jr.,—protested but +paid. Method of play has occasioned numerous +reports to his discredit. Accused operating a system +of private signals with his wife, by Mrs. Elmer +Jardine after scene at card-table; brought suit for libel +against her and received $12,000 damages out of +court to compromise it. Is not received in home of +father-in-law. Cut off by mother's will. Frequently +quarrels with his wife over the attentions of other +men. Known to have applied unsuccessfully at +several banks within the last month to raise loans. +Heavily speculated on long side of recent market, +purchasing large block of stocks, margined, on morning +after theft of ring, and said to be heavily involved. +Sought aid of wife's relatives day before yesterday; +refused.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheever, Mrs. Lydia: Born Lydia Borgen, daughter +Harris Borgen, German immigrant, who married +Lydia Foley, waitress in Pearl Street restaurant. +Father made fortune in grocery business, establishing +with brother in South America a large importing +office dealing in cocoa, coffee, and fruit. At death +of uncle, Lydia became heir to $100,000. Father +said to be worth three quarters of a million, but +estranged from daughter, whose marriage he opposed. +As a young girl Lydia, rebellious and wild, +constantly involved in escapades, notably with an actor, +James Rocker, with whom she attempted to elope +and go on the stage. Kept under strict surveillance, +but at age of seventeen ran off with Charles +Bourgoyne, young English groom at Waltby's riding +academy. Pursued and arrested just as about to be +married in New Jersey. Bourgoyne arrested for +abduction but later paid to leave country. Married at +nineteen to Stanley Cheever, through mediation of +mother and a Mrs. Dorgan, notorious marriage +broker. Has become tool of husband in schemes +of raising money while leading a separate existence. +Keeps private bank account unknown to husband. +Very extravagant in personal expenses which +cannot be accounted for on known income. From +beginning of married life has been conspicuous for +her relations with other men, generally wealthy +bachelors, who have subsequently lost money at cards: +names best known, Edward Fontaine, Reginald +Forrest, Thomas Haggerty, Jr. At present seen +frequently with R. G. Mapleson of firm of Sontag & Co.—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mapleson!" said the two young men in a breath.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know what you mean," said McKenna, raising +his hand. "Wait till I get through"; and he continued +to read in his matter-of-fact, unemotional voice +these pages of hard, glaring facts that left his +hearers straining forward to catch every word:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At present deeply involved in affair with +E. V. Garraboy. Seems to have been introduced to the +broker at desire of husband, to obtain through this +channel information which his sister, Mrs. Enos +Bloodgood, may have acquired from B. L. Majendie +of financial affairs in general and particularly +Atlantic Trust. Acquaintance developed into violent +passion for Garraboy by Mrs. Cheever; has met him +frequently of late, twice having been followed to +his apartments. Of late, scenes with husband have +been increasing in violence, coupled with mutual +threats—believe rupture possible.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Item</em><span>: Bills against Mrs. Cheever known to be +outstanding include $13,800 to Sontag & Co., for +jewels; $1,200 to Madame Cortin for hats, etc.; +$8,300 to Friegel Bros., robes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Item</em><span>: The $100,000 she inherited, stands in +her own name, but is believed to be now reduced to +$75,000. Morning after theft of ring, sold short +through Garraboy, her broker, 5,000 shares Union +Pacific. For further details, see Garraboy.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Charming little domestic circle, eh?" said +McKenna, laying down the sheet. "Now for another:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bloodgood, Enos R.: Owner New York </span><em class="italics">Daily +Star</em><span>; large holder of real estate in lower New York; +director Metropolitan Opera; brought up, at death +of his parents, by his grandfather, Joseph Bloodgood, +president of the Northwestern Railroad, as his +prospective heir. At age of 20, despite threats of his +guardian, left college and married Charlotte Granby, +daughter of his tutor. Promptly disinherited. +Went to work as a clerk in Brooklyn drygoods store, +living on twenty-five dollars a week, refusing all +overtures from grandfather, who offered to forgive +him on condition of separation from his wife, +allowing her $20,000. Refused and lived in that +condition for five years until her death, brought on by +privations. Reconciled with grandfather and sent +abroad for a journey through Europe. Two years +later became violently infatuated with a Spanish +singer of the Café Chantants and went with her on a +trip to South America, again defying his guardian. +At the end of a year, affair ended by a secret +payment made by his grandfather to the woman to +procure her desertion. Followed her and engaged in +duel with her companion, from whom he received +serious wounds. After recovery, returned to Paris, +where he again became entangled in violent infatuations. +On point of marrying an Austrian countess +of doubtful history, fell ill with pneumonia and +almost died. Returned to New York and became +reconciled with grandfather. Seemed to turn over +new leaf; entered journalism and made good record +for steadiness and conservatism, leading exemplary +life. Grandfather, in his will, however, contrary to +expectations, cut him off with $20,000. Two months +later, married Mrs. Georgiana Wakeman, fifteen +years his senior, fortune estimated at ten millions, +widow of former owner of N. Y. </span><em class="italics">Star</em><span>, which then +passed under his control. Next ten years remarkable +for his strict application to business and the +dissoluteness of his private life. Mixed up in several +promoting schemes with various success. At death +of second wife, received bulk of fortune. Remained +widower three years, greatly increasing fortune at +period of Trust consolidations. Married third wife, +Elise Garraboy, noted Southern beauty, no fortune. +Union unhappy after first months; returned to his +old habits. Three months ago forced to pay $15,000 +to prevent blackmailing suit on part of a Miss Edna +Rusk, chorus girl. Plunged heavily on short side of +late market in a pool formed to bear market; reputed +to have made immense gains.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Item</em><span>: Has been in confidential relations with +Miss Maud Lille for some time. Visited her early +morning, after theft of ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's queer," said Gunther, startled at this final +detail. "Did Bloodgood do anything in the market +that day?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Sold right and left," said McKenna, exchanging +papers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, more impressionable than his companion, +said nothing, overcome by the bare recital of this +brutal, materialistic life that once had been young +and stirred to unbelievable sacrifice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bloodgood, Mrs. Enos: Born Elise Garraboy; +sister of Edward Garraboy; old Southern family, +New Orleans; father Colonel Marston Garraboy; +died when children were little. Mother married +Boyd Hallowel, Englishman, third son Lord +Carmody, came to live in New York. Hallowel died +ten years later, leaving her with small income but +social connections. Elise educated at convent; made +début in society at age of eighteen; great beauty; +numerous suitors; engaged in second season to Enos +Bloodgood; engagement broken; married a year later. +Story current, forced into it to save mother from +bankruptcy. Left husband twice in first two years, +but persuaded to return by mother. Met Bernard +L. Majendie eight months ago at Palm Beach. +Infatuation no secret; understood that two weeks +before panic had placed her interests in hands of +lawyers, who procured evidence for divorce; action +halted temporarily. Night of party at Mrs. Kildair's, +trunks packed for journey, tickets purchased +at Grand Central to Montreal. Day after, made no +investments in Wall Street. Following day, left +home with trunks and returned shortly after suicide. +Violent scenes with husband. Shut herself up in +room for hours. That night went to home of +Majendie, company with—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly McKenna stopped at a violent movement +of surprise from Beecher, and said quickly, "—a +woman and a young man. Said to be totally without +funds; husband reputed to allow her only $120 +a month pocket-money. That's all."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther had been quick to see the agitation of his +companion but, since he comprehended that whatever +the part he had played Beecher wished to keep it in +confidence, he pretended to have understood nothing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then there is no trace of Mrs. Bloodgood's +having gone into the market?" he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"None," replied McKenna. "There are other +details, but they come better under head of the +brother."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He shuffled the remaining sheets and then, as +though divining the unease of Beecher, he said in +a matter-of-fact tone:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's the history of Miss Nan Charters; but as +it gives us nothing important we don't know, I'll +leave it out. Particularly as we're short of time. +However, I'll say this—there is no record of any +stock transactions except that which we know of +already. The next is Miss Maud Lille, a curious +character, too."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher drew a long breath and relaxed in his +chair, grateful to McKenna for his consideration.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Lille, Maud," said the detective, reading. "Real +name Margaret Case; daughter Rev. Hiram Case +and Fanny Saunders, Zanesville, Ohio; left home at +age of sixteen; studied one year to be trained nurse; +left hospital and studied stenography; later joined +traveling circus, business department; became press +agent. Stranded in northern Arizona; earned living +by writing for local newspapers under name Jane +Anderson; went to San Francisco and from there to +Honolulu, supporting herself by her writings, +occasionally taking regular position as stenographer. In +Hawaii met and married an eastern adventurer +known under name of Edward Bracken; returned +with him to San Francisco, where couple engaged in +mining speculations. Husband pursued for fraud +and fled; wife arrested but released. Went to +Chicago after securing divorce and changed name to +Maud Lille. Sent to Cripple Creek by Chicago +</span><em class="italics">World</em><span> and made a hit by her graphic accounts of +labor conditions. Married Patrick O'Fallon, wealthy +mine owner. Went with him for trip in Europe but +apparently dissatisfied with life left him and returned +to newspaper work, establishing herself in New York. +Not divorced. Under own name author of several +successful novels; prefers Bohemian existence of +journalist evidently, reporting prize-fights, political +conventions, murder trials, etc. Attached to staff +of New York </span><em class="italics">Star</em><span> and apparently much in confidence +of owner. Lately much interested in stock market. +On morning after theft met E. V. Garraboy at +Levere's restaurant, near home, before breakfast; +returned to her apartment and saw Enos Bloodgood +two hours later. Reported sold short 500 shares +Union Pacific."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove," exclaimed Beecher as Gunther rose +excitedly to his feet, "you've got it!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Maud Lille took it first and transferred it to +Garraboy," said Gunther, then he stopped, puzzled; +"but Bloodgood—that's incredible!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold in your horses," said McKenna, shaking +his head with silent laughter, delighted, in fact, that +they had fallen into his trap. "There's one more +little history to read." He hesitated and then said: +"Now, I don't want to play up to a little tin god on +wheels, though that's easy enough. I'll say this, +that a good deal of the information I am reading +you I have had in hand. The gentleman whose +bright little history I am going to read you, I have +had my eyes on for some time. That'll develop.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy, Edward V.: Sent to military training +school; expelled; went up north, boarding-school; +expelled; tutored for college and went to Harvard; +ran up debts to extent of over a thousand dollars in +two months, signing promissory notes. Paid by +stepfather, who withdrew him at the request of +college authorities; cut off by family and sent to +Chicago with four hundred dollars to enter business +house. Instead, speculated in wheat market and said +to have made a little money. Went to Denver with +small capital and posed as son of wealthy parents. +Made acquaintance of a family called Sanderson +and shortly became engaged to daughter, heiress to +considerable fortune. Engagement broken as result +of investigations. Left Denver, leaving behind a +number of debts and bad checks. Next, heard of in +southern California, working in mine; got in +shooting affray over daughter of Mexican and went into +British Columbia. Used many names. Spent a year +in small stock companies playing little rôles; made a +lucky gamble in silver mine and went to San Francisco, +living high. Went to Seattle; became engaged +to a widow of large real estate manipulator; +persuaded her to invest her money in land exploitation +scheme in southern California which proved failure. +Ran away from Seattle and went to Hawaii to sell +imitation jewelry under name of Edward—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bracken!" exclaimed the two young men in one breath.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Married to Maud Lille!" cried Gunther, the +first to recover his astonishment. "Why, the little +toad! How the deuce did these women fall for him?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's a question by itself, Mr. Gunther," +said McKenna, smiling. "It's a good deal in studying +what you're dealing with, and Garraboy watched +them pretty close. Let me finish.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Came to San Francisco, as you know; fled to +escape pursuit; changing name, shipped as clerk on a +merchantman from New Orleans. Next known of +him, returned from the Far East under own name +with apparently a certain amount of money. On +hearing marriage of his sister, came to New York and +established himself in Wall Street, largely through +the aid of Bloodgood, over whose head evidently +has held some threat. Met Maud Lille and probably +came to some understanding with her; has paid her +money from time to time. Encouraged sister's +infatuation for Majendie, whom sought to enlist in +scheme for rice production in South; failed. Made +money rapidly until three months ago, when several +ventures failed and became involved. Secured +personal loan of $10,000 from Majendie without knowledge +of sister. Has lived at rate of $40,000 a year, +running several establishments; said to have given +$15,000 worth of jewelry to Mlle. Clo. D'Aresco, the +dancer, on her last visit here. Made immense short +sales in recent market and was on verge of failure +when panic saved him. Has profited by infatuation +of Mrs. Cheever to borrow large sums in last week. +On day after theft sold steadily all day; under +suspicions by his own clients and on verge of arrest, +when drop in stocks turned tide in his favor. +Reputed to have covered his losses and made $100,000 +in last three days."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You were on his track then!" exclaimed Beecher, +suddenly enlightened.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was and I am," said McKenna; "and in less +than twenty-four hours I'll shake down that frisky +gentleman for about forty-five thousand dollars that +he has been speculating with. Four days ago I +couldn't have collected forty-five cents. That's why +I held off."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Lord!" said Beecher, suddenly remembering. +"I say, McKenna, Miss Charters' money is +tied up with him. You don't suppose—by Jove, I +hope nothing's wrong!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You give me the amount," said McKenna with +a click of his teeth. "I'll get it. He knows, I guess, +by this time what a pretty little story it would make +in the morning papers. He won't resist—not he!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here," said Beecher excitedly, putting his +hand to his pocketbook. "By Jove, that's lucky. +I've still got that order. I can telephone her now—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Telephone nothing," said McKenna, reaching out +his hand. "I don't need that order, except as a +reference. Just keep it quiet. The young lady won't +thank you less for your saving her without her +knowledge, will she?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Beecher, flurried. "Here's the +order. When'll you get at Garraboy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In about ten minutes," said McKenna, reaching +over for a fresh cigar.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Here?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Right here."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And the ring?" asked Gunther quickly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think?" said McKenna, his little +eyes snapping through the blaze of the match as he +lighted his cigar.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it lies between Mrs. Cheever, Miss Lille +and Garraboy," said Gunther; "either woman took +it and either passed it to Garraboy at the table—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" said McKenna, as Gunther hesitated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Or Garraboy took it first and passed it to one +of them."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"For fear that he or she had been seen taking it +the first time—to cover up the tracks. Whoever +may have seen the ring taken would believe the +original thief had restored it and kept quiet."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's ingenious, and I must say it may prove +to have some bearing," said McKenna. "It's +likewise possible. But you gentlemen have missed the +whole point of what I've been reading you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In what way?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There's not one bit of evidence who took the +ring," said McKenna, with a gesture at the +recording sheets. "It shows who might have taken +it—that's true. Now, what it shows is this—what was +working in every one's mind the night of that party. +You remember that it was on the night before +Majendie's failure, and that the whole question of the +panic hung on whether he was going to pull through +or not. Now, of every one who was there, with the +exception of Miss Charters, Mrs. Bloodgood and +Mr. Beecher here, every one was in Wall Street up +to their necks, and if they knew what had happened +to Majendie they could call the turn. Now, what +happened? Bloodgood was getting his information +from Maud Lille, who got it from Garraboy, who +easy enough could get it from his sister, not out +of treachery, but unconsciously, you may be sure. +Well, all these three got the straight tip. That's +what the meeting next morning was about. +Bloodgood never took the ring; that would be ridiculous; +and Maud Lille, whatever her record for drifting, is +not a crook. So those meetings were on the +question of speculation, pure and simple.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mrs. Cheever got the news straight and +Mr. Cheever didn't, though he depended on his wife +working Garraboy. Cheever bought stocks and was +caught. That likewise shows there may be some +interesting developments in that charming little family, +particularly when he finds out that Mrs. Cheever +sold and won. Now, what have we to go on? Cheever's +a crook—but if he took it, he did it alone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy's a crook and, following Mr. Gunther's +theory, he could have taken it alone or working with +Mrs. Cheever. If there was any collusion, it was +there. Gentlemen, I am only discussing possibilities."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If the ring was taken to raise money to gamble +in Wall Street, then it lies between Cheever and +Garraboy," said Gunther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Say it this way: if Mrs. Cheever or Miss Lille +took it, Garraboy would probably know—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And Slade?" said Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If Slade took it, we're losing our time. Aren't +we?" said McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna, do you know?" said Gunther suddenly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless I am very much mistaken, I'll know in +twenty-four hours," said McKenna, "I know this—who +has the ring and when he had it, and this +evening, about 5:30 in the afternoon, I ought to +know from the gentleman in question, who pawned +it—unless I learn sooner."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless Garraboy confesses," said Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Gentlemen," said McKenna, answering with a +nod an assistant who opened the door at this moment, +"I'm not given to boasting, but I'll risk this." He +went to the desk, wrote a name on a card, sealed +it in an envelope and handed it to Beecher. "That's +the name of the person who took the ring. Keep it +until it is found. That sounds like Sherlock Holmes, +but there's one reason why I feel like being a little +stagey; and I don't mind admitting to you that I got +to it by deduction—honest deduction, though!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why've you Garraboy here, then?" said Beecher, +while the letter in his pocket seemed to radiate heat +like an ember.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you want to know?—you'll be surprised," +said McKenna, going to the desk again. "Well, it's +to convince myself that Garraboy had nothing to do +with it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" exclaimed the two.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna made them a signal to be silent and, +taking up the loose sheets of the different records, +started to place them in the drawer; but all at once +he stopped, selected one, the record of the broker +himself, and laid it face up on the table. The next +moment the door opened and Garraboy came warily +into the room.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>At the sight of Beecher and Gunther, Garraboy +stopped short, evidently nonplused.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was told to come in," he said, lifting his eyebrows.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right," said McKenna briskly, raising his +voice a trifle. From the moment of the broker's +entrance his eyes fastened on Garraboy, never +leaving him. "Come right in."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm interrupting—" said Garraboy carefully, +conscious of this set gaze.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the least."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought our business was confidential, McKenna," +he said, without having moved from the position +he had taken on entering. "I fail to see—" +he stopped and looked again at the two young men.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mr. Beecher and Gunther," said McKenna +affably; "suppose we call them attorneys for one of +your clients."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Charters?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a good guesser, Mr. Garraboy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The broker drew in his upper lip and, coming +slowly forward, said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The presence of these gentlemen is exceedingly +distasteful to me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not in a position to object, Mr. Garraboy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy turned his back and walked slowly back +and forth, evidently in distressed conjecture, occasionally +raising his head to shoot a glance at the three, +half in rage, half in fear.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once he stopped by the desk as though his +mind had come to a certain decision, and, bearing +heavily on it, said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know that I care, under the circumstances, +to enter into any discussion. You, Mr. McKenna, +represent my client, Mrs. Alva White; your +claim against me is for forty-five thousand eight +hundred and forty-six dollars." He drew out his +pocketbook. "I have here a check made to your order." A +second time he plunged his hand into his pocket +and brought out a check-book. "I was not notified +that Miss Charters' was also under discussion. +However, I will settle that at once. To whose order, +please?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna, without answering, indicated himself +with a jerk of his finger.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy, seating himself at the desk, took up a +pen and carefully filled in the check, blotted it and +handed the two drafts to McKenna, who took them, +endorsed them and, ringing, handed them to an +assistant:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Present these at once. Telephone me as soon as +they are honored."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy carefully blotted the check-book in turn, +replaced it in his pocket, and was thrusting back his +chair from the desk when McKenna, turning on him +sharply, said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy, you stole that ring of Mrs. Kildair's."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The broker, startled, jerked up his head.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So that's the meaning of all this!" he said angrily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Answer my question!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But this time Garraboy, without wincing, rose +suddenly to his feet.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna, I have nothing more to say to you," +he said, scowling, "on this or any other question. +Your claims are satisfied. I recognize no further +right of you to insult me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't move, Mr. Garraboy," said McKenna +softly; "we've a lot of business still to talk over."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you trying to blackmail me?" said Garraboy +furiously, folding his arms.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy, I've got the goods on you and there +may be a paper or two in my pocket you wouldn't +care to have served," said McKenna, the pupils of +his eyes seeming to dwindle to a point as the whites +showed under a well-simulated show of anger. +"First place, you're going to sit here until I get a +telephone those checks are cashed. Second, and this may +surprise you, you're going to stick right by me—today +and tonight, until you make up your mind +whether you'll answer me or answer a court of +justice. Third, before we get through here, I want your +name at the bottom of a little document I've drawn +up for you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" said Garraboy, but with +a note of apprehension in his voice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A plain, honest recital of what you've been doing +with other folks' property these last two months—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You said—" fairly screamed the broker.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I said if you settled my claims I wouldn't +prosecute—true, and I won't. But just the same you're +getting out of business here in New York, and I'm +going to hold a paper that'll keep you out."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Never!" exclaimed Garraboy in desperation. +"Every cent I owe will be settled in twenty-four +hours. I'll close up every account—I'll agree to +that—but I'll not be blackmailed into this. You +haven't a charge against me that'll stand in any +court in this country—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What about that ring?" said McKenna. "You +were trying all over town to raise fifteen thousand +dollars that day. Garraboy, you stole that ring, +pawned it, and raised the money to hold off your +loans."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a lie!" he said, clenching his fists. "I +got it—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"None of your business."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you get the money to pay your interest +and to put up the new margins you did?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was acting for others."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What others?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy opened his mouth to reply and then +suddenly stopped.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna said immediately:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you won't say what others, because if you +do claim you sold for others, here before witnesses, +you know you'll restore a good deal more money +than you figured out to disgorge. Oh, you're clever +all right. Answer me—did you steal that ring?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not," said Garraboy suddenly; "and I +don't know anything more about it than Beecher +here—in fact, considerably less." He looked over +with a sneer on his lips and then quickly and firmly +exclaimed: "McKenna, my mind's made up. I'm +going out that door—now. If you attempt to +prevent me, I'll hold Mr. Beecher and Mr. Gunther here +as witnesses that you kept me here by force. And +I'll have you up on—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once he seemed to choke on a word as his +eyes, following the movement of the fist that struck +the table, came suddenly in contact with the upturned +sheet entitled:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><span>"GARRABOY, EDWARD V."</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The sight seemed to paralyze every muscle of his +body. He sat down abruptly, drawing the document +under his eye.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Take your time, Bracken, read it over carefully," +said McKenna in a soothing voice. He retired to +the fireplace and relaxed into the easy chair awaiting +the moment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy read hastily, fairly galloping through the +pages. Then he stiffened in his chair, frowned and +read carefully through it all again, considering each +phrase.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the last, the three who watched him saw him +push the paper from him, lock his hands in front of +him and stare at McKenna. The correct, insolent +man of the world had faded; instead, before them, +bare to the bone, was the rascal, the desperate, clever +adventurer. Suddenly making a quick resolve, he +said in a tone that surprised them for its absence of +emotion:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me the paper I'm to sign."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna jumped up and going to a shelf took +down an affidavit.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is always a pleasure to deal with profession," +he said genially, placing the document on the table. +"Oh, read it first."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy skimmed through it hastily, nodding. +He took up his pen and paused.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's understood that the contents will never be +made public, directly or indirectly, so long as I keep +out of the United States?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Understood."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your word of honor on it as a gentleman, McKenna?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My word."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And yours, too, Mr. Beecher, Mr. Gunther?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Each repeated the promise in turn.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy signed the confession and handed it to +McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What now?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You will, of course, wind up your business immediately."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I will telephone for my clerk to bring my books +here at once for your inspection. I will draw the +necessary checks and have them deposited to the +credit of my clients this afternoon. One of your +men can personally assure himself that everything is +right. Will that satisfy you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't have proposed anything more practical," +said McKenna, nodding.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What next?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Clean up that matter of the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy rose impatiently,</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't got the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't believe you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you going to keep me under surveillance?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Until when?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Until the ring is returned."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna," said Garraboy desperately, "I think +I've satisfied you. I'm not standing on technicalities. +You've got me cold. I know it. Now, I'll tell you +just how I stand. When everything is paid up, I +stand pretty nearly $200,000 to the good. I'm going +to get out—go abroad and stay there, and I want to +catch the first boat out. If I had that ring, I'd throw +it over, quick. That's straight goods."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy, did you steal that ring?" said McKenna again.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not." He took a handkerchief from his +pocket and wiped away the perspiration which stood +on his forehead.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you ever see before the detective, John +Ryan, whom Mrs. Kildair called in?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy hesitated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Employed him?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Many times?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Several."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And you recommended him to Mrs. Kildair?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So you knew whom she would call in?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I didn't think of that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy, didn't you take the ring knowing that +Ryan would be called in and that he would never +make a search of you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know who took it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's sufficient," said McKenna, apparently +satisfied.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you going to do?" asked Garraboy +nervously.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep you on a rope until the ring turns up.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to get away," said Garraboy weakly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I know that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The broker remained quiet a moment, turning a +pencil with his moist fingers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you answer one question?" he said at last.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Does Mrs. Kildair know—are you acting for her?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair does not know what I'm doing," +said McKenna quietly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy rose with what seemed a little relief, a +movement that McKenna was quick to note.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I've made up my mind to tell you what I +know," he said, after a few nervous steps.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't got the ring," he said carefully.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you take it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not take it," said Garraboy, looking +steadily in McKenna's eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But you know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, in a way I know," he said firmly. "A +woman took it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Garraboy did not answer immediately. He seemed +reluctant to continue, frowning and moving restlessly +from foot to foot. Finally he blurted out:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know who took it first, but this is what +happened—the God's truth. When Mrs. Kildair +put out the lights and counted sixty-one, I heard the +ring on the table." He hesitated a moment and said +hurriedly: "I made up my mind to give them all a +shock. I did not intend to keep the ring; I swear it. +I put out my hand to take it—and I touched another +hand—the hand of a woman."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who took it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Was that woman Mrs. Cheever, or Miss Lille?" +said McKenna quickly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have no idea?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No suspicion?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You were told nothing afterward?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy, it's just possible you're not lying," +said McKenna with a frown; "though I'm not sure +by a long shot. However, I'll know the truth before +the sun goes down."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How?" said Garraboy, looking up.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I neglected to tell you," said McKenna, watching +him, "that I know whom the ring was pawned with, +and this evening the gentleman himself will tell me +who pawned it. The time I keep you depends a good +deal on what he says."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, this evening I will be free," said Garraboy +joyfully, with such evident confidence that both +young men were struck by it and McKenna, a little +disturbed in his theory, continued staring at the face +of Garraboy, which was illumined with a slight, +malicious smile.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Half an hour later Gunther and Beecher, +leaving McKenna's office with a promise to return +that evening, went up town. In Beecher's pocket +was a check on McKenna representing the amount of +Miss Charters' account. Garraboy remained in the +custody of the detective.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what do you think of it?" said Gunther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I think Garraboy lied," said Beecher.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, about the reason he tried to take the ring—yes, +naturally. He could make a plausible reason +for that—you'd hardly expect him to say in so many +words that he was a thief, if he really didn't get the +ring, as he says."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I think he cooked up the lie right there," said +Beecher obstinately. "I don't believe a word of it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know—I sort of think he told the truth."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think any woman would have the nerve +to go on after she had felt a hand on hers and knew +that some one had a clue, not absolutely definite but +almost so?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Ted, if any one denounced her, wouldn't he +have to acknowledge the fact of his own motive? +That would be enough to shut any one up."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I think Garraboy lied," persisted Beecher. "I +think he had a part in the theft and at least I am +sure he knows all about it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen to reason," said Gunther warmly. "If +Garraboy signed a confession like McKenna handed +him, he wouldn't stop at returning a ring—particularly +when he knows that McKenna will keep hold of +him till the affair is closed up. No, no; Garraboy +says he's cleared $200,000—you may be sure he's +got considerably more. He's satisfied. He wants +to get away from here quick. McKenna's not the +only one on his track, you may be sure of that. No, +it doesn't stand to reason he'd balk at a little matter +like the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher was silent, digesting the argument.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There may be one explanation," he said at length. +"You noticed that the fellow was particularly +anxious to know if Mrs. Kildair was behind us?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I noticed all that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now McKenna thinks, and I do too, that Mrs. Kildair +all along has known who took the ring and +has only been held up before this from prosecuting +on account of a possible scandal."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But, that's over now—nothing can be said—it +was an engagement ring, of course."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly; and that's the reason why I'm going to +make this guess—that Garraboy, knowing the game +was up, returned the ring this morning."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By George!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And that's the reason he told the lie he +did—knowing that everything will blow over in +twenty-four hours."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ted, by the Lord Harry, I believe you've hit it!" +said Gunther excitedly. "I say—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's go up to your rooms—there may be a +letter from Mrs. Kildair."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Full of eagerness they went to Beecher's rooms—only +to return empty-handed and disappointed. Then +they hurried to the club and searched the letter-boxes +without success.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Disappointed and impatient they went in to a late +lunch.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you going to do about that check of +Miss Charters'?" said Gunther in an aggressive +tone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Take it round to her," said Beecher, looking at +him out of the corner of his eye.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mail it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Gratitude and a pretty woman are a dangerous +combination," said Gunther gruffly; "especially for +something soft like you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You damned, impertinent cuss," said Beecher +acridly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Fact. Better let me call a messenger boy and +send it around."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But in the pleased state of mind in which he was, +Beecher had not the slightest intention of surrendering +the delightful opportunity which the visit promised. +Likewise, he was indignant at hearing from +Gunther the same implications which amused him +from the lips of a fascinating woman like Emma +Fornez.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got a fine idea of me," he answered +hotly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"According to you, I oughtn't to be allowed to +roam the streets without a keeper."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly expressed."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't alarm yourself," said Beecher in a lofty, +superior tone, and, believing every word, he added, +"I'm quite able to take care of myself. I know +how to amuse myself—and I know it is amusing +myself, thank you. You think I don't know +anything about women—well, I know better than some +people how to keep my head straight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So you're going around?" said Gunther with a +grin.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you said you had never met any one +who could make you so angry?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and get me at five o'clock," said Beecher, +with a trifling wave of his hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I begin to have my doubts," said Gunther slowly, +with the air of one steeling himself against a great +calamity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher had no such anticipation as he went lightly +out of the club and took his way up the Avenue. +For the last day he had thought much more of the +possible feelings of Nan Charters toward his own +receptive person than of analyzing the impregnability +of his own position. He had not telephoned, desiring +to effect a little surprise. But as he neared +his destination he remembered that she might +possibly be out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In that case I'll leave a little note—just a line +with the check—as though it were a casual affair," +he said to himself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But Miss Charters was in. An automobile was at +the curb which he thought he recognized.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Charters herself answered the door, detaining +him a moment in the anteroom.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad you came," she said in a low voice, +but one in which it was impossible to mistake the +pleasure. "I wanted you to know that. A friend +of yours is here—but he won't stay long," she added +softly, with that gentle appeal in her voice against +which he knew no defense. "You'll stay—I want +you to."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is it?" he asked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Lorraine." And as she saw the instant +stiffening that went through him, she said quickly, +with that subtle, merciless flattery of which only +women have the command, "Shall I send him away—if +you wish?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The two men greeted each other boisterously, but +underneath their heartiness was a sudden sense of +invaded territory.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he interested?" thought Lorraine, with an +uneasy glance. "And why did she go out into the +hall?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's his right here? Was he here to lunch, +I wonder?" thought Beecher, and for the first time +he felt something hot surging inside of himself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Each with an extra show of cordiality began to +talk, addressing their remarks to the other. Only +Lorraine, whose tenancy was thus threatened, +continued to prolong his stay, anxiously watching the +effect on the woman. At the end of half an hour, +he no longer doubted, she was only waiting for him +to go, uneasy and resentful at his delay.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, heavy of heart, and shook hands with +Beecher, whom he would have liked to throttle, and +nodding to Miss Charters, went toward the hall, +hoping that she would follow him. But women in +love match the wordless surrender and tenderness +they show to the man to whom they yield with an +equal cruelty toward those whose misfortune is to +have loved them. She did not move, waiting +impatiently until she heard the tardy click of the door. +Then she went to him directly, standing quite close, +looking up at him like a penitent schoolgirl.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought he'd never go," she said impatiently, +and then with an uneasy, searching look in her eyes, +she said contritely: "Do you think I am very terrible?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled and shook his head, but without profiting +by the opportunity her attitude invited.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You were engaged to Charlie once, weren't +you?" he said, trying to give the question an accent +of natural curiosity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, never."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Almost?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head impatiently at the introduction +of this topic.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"People said so."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She shrugged her shoulders.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But he is in love with you," he said positively.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>What she did not like was the quiet, inconsequential +way he spoke, for in her own mood she did not +detect the jealousy underneath.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Please don't let us talk of Mr. Lorraine," she +said quickly. "I have never been engaged to +Mr. Lorraine and never could; first, because I don't +intend to marry, and, second, because if I did, +Mr. Lorraine could never appeal to me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She broke off and going to the telephone said to +him over her shoulder:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not in a hurry?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good—then we need not be interrupted."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She called the office and left word that she would +not be at home. Then, rising, she came slowly back, +very subdued, still alarmed at the undisturbed +friendship in his look.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was afraid you wouldn't come to see such a +little virago," she said softly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I came to see you on a matter of business," he +said, without thinking of his words.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Her face fell.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He drew out his pocketbook and took out the check.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Garraboy is leaving very suddenly for +Europe," he said, turning over the bit of paper. "He +has decided to wind up his affairs. He wished me +to give you this check in settlement of your account," +with him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She stood quite still, her arms behind her back, but +her eyes dangerously brilliant.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If it's only on business you came," she said, +breathing deep, "you can keep your check."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it only on business you go to see other women?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He extended the check, and the jealousy Lorraine's +presence had brought him made him seek to hurt her +a little more.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be unreasonable," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If you don't answer," she said, stamping her +foot, "I will tear it into pieces!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A quick, impulsive joy went through him at this +revealing anger.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I came because I wanted to see you," he said +with a provoking delight in his eyes. "This is of +no importance."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She took the check, still looking at him, became +calmer, smiled, and then with a determined bob of +her head, went to place it on her writing-desk. All +at once she turned quickly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But this is signed McKenna!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a detail."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your friend McKenna, the detective? Then you +forced this out of him?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It wasn't very hard."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She let the check flutter from her fingers to the +desk, thoughtfully considering it, divining slowly +what it meant.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am unreasonable," she said quietly, returning +and holding out her hand. "Thank you. Why did +you bother—after the way I acted?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, just because," he answered, looking down +into her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So, Garraboy is a defaulter," she said slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot tell you any more."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once a thought came to her and an anxious +frown passed over her forehead.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"None of this is your money?" she said quickly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"On your honor?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a great thing you have done for me," she +said solemnly. "I am very grateful."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," he said lightly. "It was no trouble. +I would have done it for any one."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They were near the great dormer-windows, high +above the threaded smoke and gray roofs of the +city, now blending into fuzzy masses with the +closing of the day.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, now that your business is over," she said, +but with a new lightness, "I suppose you must be +going?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want me to say?" he said, smiling +with a growing feeling of well-being.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you come?" she repeated maliciously, +and, half-laughing, half-determined, she took the +lapel of his coat in a gesture which, in her fingers, +was almost a caress. She stood looking up at him, +so happy, so brimming with the satisfaction of +having him back, of regaining what she had feared to +lose, that he could not resist the desire in her eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I like you," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Despite my tantrums and my moods?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"On account of them."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And would you have done what you did—for any one?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come to think of it—no."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She was not content. She would rather that he +had answered more sentimentally. She felt that he +was stronger than she was, more controlled.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you interested in Emma Fornez?" she said, +looking away from him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh,—interested."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You like her?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, very much."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't like to have you talked about."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He did not answer.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What have I done that displeases you, Teddy?" +she said all at once.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>But before he could answer, the room behind them +dropped suddenly back into darkness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The light's gone out," she said, startled, her hand +on his arm.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The current's cut—that's all," he answered.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll light a lamp."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No. It's good here. Wait. It'll only be a moment."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They remained in the dark, turning their glances +out of the window, suddenly conscious of the panorama +of the evening, the stir of departing multitudes, +the end of labor and the evening of rest.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How plainly you can see," he said. "That's +Brooklyn Bridge, isn't it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the east three giant spans stood out across the +unreal gray view that had neither banks nor green +approaches, that cut its way like an invading flood +through the cities. Innumerable, cottony puffs of +steam, busy, hurrying, restless, rose from unseen +hulls across the fading silhouettes of tangled spans. +High to the south from a cyclopean tower a single ball +of fire was shining. Below, in the long, straight +avenues, the city was putting on its necklaces of +brilliants; and from the black dotted masses that must +be there somewhere in the growing obscurity, +rushing home over the backs of the waters, high above +housetops or deep through the bowels of the city, a +great sigh seemed to rise with the sudden freshening +of the twilight breeze, and the two human beings +who looked down, as God looks down on this spectacle +of a moving world, found nothing to express the +sudden melancholy that troubled them, awakening +vague desires, stirring them with the feeling of their +own littleness.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," she said, turning away the first, and, +lingering, looking back, placed a hand on his arm, +repeating, "Come."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He did not reply, looking beyond, deeply penetrated +by all this humanity that each moment receded +farther from them, isolating them, lifting them above +the world into the loneliness of the skies. Her hand +remained on his arm unconsciously, but this weight +so soft but yet so imperious recalled him to himself. +He thought no longer of what lay without. He +looked at her. She was trembling. He too felt the +subtle, disturbing restlessness of this dark that +closed in about them, shutting out the peopled +world—this mood of the day that exerts over human +beings such a compelling desire.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She turned and looked at him. He could not see +her face distinctly, only the eyes—that seemed +incapable of seeing all but this. Then abruptly, +brusquely, by the same mutual impulse, they +were in each other's arms, straining to each other, +their lips irresistibly closed over each other, feeling +themselves more and more wrapped around by this +soft darkness that had cast them up, enfolding +their loneliness in the great protective instinct of +human love.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The room flared up brilliantly. She recovered +herself the first, drawing herself out of his arms, +covering her face with fingers that still throbbed with +the agony of their embrace.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They could not look at each other, bewildered by +the suddenness of what had happened. She went +past him hurriedly to the fireplace, sitting down. +He followed irresolutely, feeling his feet unsteady +beneath him, all the intellectual forces within him +submerged, drunk, overthrown by the sudden, delirious +awakening of his senses, suddenly aroused by this +revelation of woman.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What have we done? What was it?" she said +breathlessly, without facing him. "We are crazy, +Teddy,—crazy!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He came heavily to the other end of the fireplace, +leaning on the mantel, looking down at the woman +who was no longer an indefinite mystery of silks and +colors, but a moving, living body that had stirred in +his arms.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, we are crazy," she repeated. "What +possessed us?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is you who are crazy now," he said abruptly. +"What is the use of arguing? Those things are +beyond us. It is over—it is settled. We had +nothing to do with it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," she cried vigorously, jumping up. "It +is not right. It isn't fair to you. We were swept +off our feet."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank Heaven, yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But it's impossible, it's crazy—it's senseless. I +don't want to marry, I don't want to fall in love. I +want to be free—I must be free—I know that—you +know that. So what then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the use of arguing? It's been settled +for us."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But it isn't settled. I lost my head—you lost +your head. We didn't know what we were doing. +Marriage is impossible, absurd. I'm not a woman to +marry—you would be unhappy—don't you see how +ridiculous it is? I think only of myself—my career—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's all that amount to—you love me and I +love you. It's always been so—we've been fools +and I didn't know it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I don't know it," she cried; but at the same +breath she knew that it was so. But this knowledge +only roused in her the spirit to combat, to remit, to +put away from her the threatening obstacle.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense. Why didn't you let me go? You +wouldn't; you brought me back; you couldn't help +it—and I came. I would have come if you had called +me. I've said all that you say myself—what good +did it do me? Here I am!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then—yes, we may love each other," she +said desperately. "I don't know. I cannot reason it +out—it may be so, perhaps—but even then? Teddy, +it can't go on. Don't you see how wicked it would +be—how wrong? Your wife can't be on the stage, +and I can't give it up. It's everything—it's been +my whole life. We must be strong—we must stop +it. It's absurd—it's wrong."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She came to him, seized with the two contrary +impulses: an instinctive revolt, a desire to force him +from her life, and something just as instinctive and +irresistible that drew her back to him; and at the +moment she said the most firmly, "No, no, it's absurd, +it's wrong," she put out her hand and caught her +fingers in his coat collar, just behind his ear, under +the masses of his hair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He caught her to him, wrapping his arms around +her; she continued to protest but, without resisting, +her head dropped on his shoulder, her eyes closed, +her lips breathlessly open.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once from the hall came the sound of a key +in the latch. They disengaged themselves hurriedly, +arranging their disordered hair, standing ridiculously +apart.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>From the antechamber came the voice of Miss +Tilbury, the chaperon, discreetly remaining without:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nan, dear, Mr. Hargrave is below. He has +come for his manuscript."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I'm not at home," she said in a muffled voice.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought to send it down to him, really."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Beecher is here—aren't you coming in?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In a moment."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The steps died out going to the back. Beecher, +who had looked at the clock, uttered an exclamation. +She came to him quickly, with the motions of the +alert feline, and seizing his wrist said quickly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, Teddy, I will not hold you to what has +happened. We are out of our senses, you and I. +We are crazy—crazy. You must not see me for a +while—two days at least—until we know what we +are doing. Go, now, please—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Then, suddenly remembering that the same Hargrave +had been the innocent cause of a little pain to +him, she went quickly to the table and took up the +offending play, and with that fine instinct of a woman +to give even the smallest revenge to the man she loves, +said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Take this. Give it to Hargrave yourself. Say +I cannot see him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall see you tomorrow."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; but telephone tonight."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She listened a moment, her ear toward the hall +like a child, and then sprang into his arms, and this +time it seemed to him that it was she, not he, who +dominated the embrace.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxiii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>At half-past five, Beecher, his brain in a whirl, +arrived breathlessly at the office of McKenna. +As luck would have it, only Gunther and the detective +were there.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My friend is a little late," said McKenna, with +a quick, jerky glance at the clock.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Garraboy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Twirling his thumbs in another room," said +Gunther, laughing. "In a cussing bad humor, too."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>For the second time, McKenna glanced nervously +at the clock. Beecher was struck with the mood of +restlessness that obsessed him. He passed aimlessly +from desk to window and back again, apparently +oblivious to their presence, immersed in some calculation +that left its outward mark in a deep furrow between +the eyebrows, while the cigar between his lips +had gone out unperceived.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Beecher," he said suddenly, stopping short, +"I'm not sure but what I've gone off on a ridiculous +tangent—it may be—it may be. Have you still got +that envelope I gave you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, in my pocket—here," said Beecher, surprised, +laying his hand on his coat.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a ridiculous thing for me to do," said +McKenna quickly. He made a movement of his +hand as though to take it, but repressed it, saying: +"All I ask is, don't open it until I ask you." Then, +still ruffled, he turned away, saying to himself: +"Guessing—humph! I'd fire a man for doing that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The telephone rang with a message from the outer +office and a moment later, to the amazement of both +young men, Mapleson, of the firm of Sontag & +Company, came in smiling and businesslike.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How are you, McKenna?" he said affably, +shaking hands. "Sorry to keep you waiting. What +can I do for you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He was a slender, dark young man of forty-two +or three, very graceful, pleasant in voice and fluent +in manner, with a sure instinct for ingratiating +himself where it best could serve.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do, Mr. Beecher," he said on being +introduced. "I am very glad to know you, +Mr. Gunther. I have the pleasure of knowing your +father slightly. The country owes him a great debt +for what he's done in this panic. Well, is there any +mystery I can clear up for you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He accepted a chair, crossed his legs easily, brought +out a gold cigarette-case, offered it with a wave and +smiled at their declinations.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, yes, Mr. Mapleson, you can give us a little +information," said McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything I can do for you, McKenna, glad to do +it," said Mapleson.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You may remember a ring that was sold by your +firm a few months ago to Mr. John G. Slade," said +McKenna directly; "a single ruby, valued, I believe, +around thirty thousand dollars."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mapleson did not avert his eyes from the glance +of the detective, yet without a movement of his body +an instant change came in his manner. He drew in +a puff of smoke, let it out, nodded carefully and +said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, known as the Bogota ruby. I remember perfectly."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand that that ring was brought back +within the last ten days and pledged for a +considerable amount."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed?" said Mapleson. He flung away the +half smoked cigarette, and busied himself with +selecting another. "Well, what do you want to know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to know the name of the person—man +or woman—who pledged it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mapleson changed his mind, shut the cigarette-case +with a snap, clasped his hands in front of him, +thumbs up and pressed against his teeth.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you tell me a little more?" he said at last.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I cannot," McKenna said frankly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The eyes of the jeweler wandered from the detective +and settled on the face of Beecher. The look +made the young man flush. It was as though the +smiling, affable confidant of feminine mysteries and +intrigues was asking himself what part in all this he +were playing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you tell me for whom you are acting, +Mr. Beecher?" he said suddenly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna made a gesture of warning, interrupting:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry—we cannot."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you a warrant?" continued Mapleson +seriously. "In other words, is this a friendly meeting, +or a legal procedure?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no warrant as yet. It is a case we particularly +desire to keep out of court," said McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very embarrassing," said Mapleson frankly, +"very. I don't know quite how to act. Of course, +McKenna, considering your relations with our firm, +I should always be glad to assist you in any way—you +understand that. The present case is different. +The ring was not pledged with Sontag & Company, +but with me personally. It is a personal matter and +a very delicate one."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand that," said McKenna, frowning. +"And yet I must inform you that I shall probably +have to proceed in the usual manner."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, if I'm brought into court on a summons," +said Mapleson thoughtfully, "that is different. +If I am faced by the fact that a theft has taken +place, I can do nothing else but aid the law."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But now—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"At present? No, McKenna, I cannot give you +the name of the person that pledged the ring with +me. The case seems very complex to me—much +more than you may believe; and as nothing is legally +charged I prefer to keep my relations confidential."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Mapleson, can you answer this?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is your refusal because you believe the intention +of the person who pledged it is to restore it to its +owner?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mapleson turned the question over a long time, +whistling softly to himself. Finally he said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. I know nothing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you tell me the amount you advanced on +the ring?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I think I can tell you that," he said, after +a moment's thought. "I advanced twenty-eight +thousand dollars."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty-eight?" said McKenna, lifting his eyebrows. +"Twenty-eight on a ring worth only thirty +thousand?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It was not a business transaction—entirely," +said Mapleson stiffly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Sontag & Company knew nothing about it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Was the ring pledged the day before Majendie +committed suicide?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In the morning?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Early in the morning."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"One final question. The ring is still in your +possession?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not in your possession?" said McKenna, +with a sudden clearing of his forehead. "Mr. Mapleson, +you are answering this because you feel bound—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all," said Mapleson quickly. "The ring +was redeemed this morning. I know nothing more +about it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The speculations which were occasioned by this +disclosure were suddenly interrupted by a knock on +the door.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come!" said McKenna sharply.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>An assistant entered the room with two letters. +McKenna looked at the first and nodded, and then +seeing the address on the second looked up quickly, +saying:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How did this come—this letter for Mr. Beecher?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It was sent down from his apartment, I believe, +sir. Mr. Beecher's man brought it, I think."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna dismissed him with a gesture, but instead +of opening his letter thrust both of them into +his pocket.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all, Mr. Mapleson," he said with incisiveness. +"I'm sorry to have troubled you. It's quite +possible, as you perhaps believe, this case will be +settled out of court."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's hope so," said Mapleson non-committally. +"I'm always at your service, you know. It's I who +should apologize. Mr. Gunther, remember me to +your father. Mr. Beecher, I hope to meet you soon +again."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He shook hands warmly with Beecher, as though +the young man had acquired a new value in his eyes, +and went out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The moment the door had shut, McKenna had the +two letters out of his pocket.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Two letters from the same lady," he said, tossing +one to Beecher. "Both messages the same, too, +I'll bet. Of course!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed and extended the letter to Gunther, +who read:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR MR. MCKENNA:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The ring has just been returned. Can I see you at once? +Take no further measures.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>RITA KILDAIR.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>McKenna was a changed man. All the indecision +had left him. His eyes were sparkling with +pleasure and he was laughing to himself, as he took up +the telephone.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, give me Clancy," he cried impatiently. +"Hello. What's the matter with Brady; hasn't he +come back with that information yet? He has? +Well, why the devil—send in the figures! Quick!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>A moment later a slip was in his hand and he was +gazing at it eagerly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Beecher, give me half an hour's start—no, +better, three quarters of an hour. Wait—have +you got a car? Good. Drive me up to Mrs. Kildair's +as fast as you can get me there."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What about Garraboy?" said Gunther. "Is he +to go free?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not by a damn sight!" said McKenna joyfully +rushing them down the hall. In the office he +stopped to say hurriedly: "Clancy, stick by +Garraboy—feed him—but keep him close until I telephone +you!"</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxiv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>McKenna was not without that penetrating +imagination that has in it the quality of vision, +the power to invoke the figures of the past and to +follow an idea into the recesses of the future. All +that he had learned and all that he had tentatively +surmised of the mysterious purposes of Rita Kildair, +returned to him with renewed vividness as he entered +the elevator saying briefly to a question:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm expected."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In his long and profound pursuit of human lawlessness, +the detective had formed a crude philosophy, +built on the perception of the inequalities of justice. +The beginning of all crime, if he could thus have +phrased it to himself, was failure. For each man +that he had sent to jail for embezzlement, in the +capacious corridor of his memory he knew another +who ethically was the greater rogue, and, as he had +said to Beecher, each day he met one such, looked +into his eyes, shook his hands and took his orders. +For each woman upon whom public scorn had set the +brand of adventuress, he knew another woman who +stood enthroned by that same society. Confusedly +in his mind he had shaped a crude analysis of life. +For him only two classes existed, the strong and the +weak. The strong was that brutal race which could +not be held down by the restraints of society, who +must rise, acquire power, dominate, obeying the +natural instinct within them; the weak those who +aided them in their upward progress, who served +them when they had arrived, and who committed +crimes in their names. It was not a moral view of +life so much as it was a perception of the persisting +law of all animal nature.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The engagement to Slade, following so dramatically +his triumphant rise from threatened disaster, +had made him realize that whatever methods she +had dared to employ, Mrs. Kildair was one of those +whom society would never scorn for her failure. +Intrigued as he was over the details of the theft of +the ring, what absorbed him most was the woman. +And determined at all hazards to force the defenses +of her reserve, he rang the bell.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair was at the piano, the riotous +movements of an Hungarian Czardas filling the +apartment. She broke off suddenly, rising as McKenna +entered the studio. The mood of whirling ecstasy, +suddenly cut off, was still in her flushed cheeks and +excited eyes, as she glided rapidly toward him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She was in evening gown, of some flame-colored, +filmy material, with sudden trembling flashes of gold +bewildering to the eye, provoking to the imagination. +The bodice, extreme in its daring, was not one of +those stiff cuirasses, in which women encase +themselves; rather the effect was of a billowy scarf that +had caught and wrapped itself languidly about her. +The low throat, the graceful arms, the brilliant row +of pointed teeth over the full under lip, all had an +extraordinary quality of vibrant, awake, impatient +vitality.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In seeing her thus, McKenna comprehended at +once that she had prepared herself for Slade; but so +daring was the effect of the seduction which she had +barbarically planned to tantalize the financier, that +McKenna himself felt the effect with a little nervous, +conscious dropping of his eyes. The movement did +not escape her, and not disdaining the tribute she +smiled to herself a quick, feline little smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You, McKenna?" she said. "You are prompt."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I came immediately."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I was waiting for you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They stood a few feet apart in the middle of the +studio studying each other, as two fencers take their +measure before joining their swords.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You were at your office then?" she said the first.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I came up in Mr. Beecher's car."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Beecher was with you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I sent him—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A letter, yes. He received it at my office."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But why didn't he come up with you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I asked him to give me half an hour here with you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That was better," she said firmly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All the undisciplined impulses that had been stirring, +gradually seemed to subside as she watched him, +warily drawing about her an invisible defense.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is the ring," she said suddenly, extending +her arm with a gesture that was no longer languid +and feminine, but forceful and controlled.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to see it," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She drew it from her finger and held it out to him. +He laid it in his palm and studied it profoundly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it worth?" he asked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Over thirty thousand dollars."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," he said quickly. "Beecher told me you +said fifteen thousand."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him from under her eyelids.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have just learned its value."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Remarkable—a splendid stone. It has had +quite a history," he said, handing it back to her and +watching it return to her finger. "Let's hope it will +stay there quietly for some time."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You know its story?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"From the beginning. It will interest you. I'll +send it to you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The last replies she had given were mechanical, +her whole mind focused on him, alert for any +sudden turn to her advantage, seeking to penetrate the +tactics he would employ.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You kept away—on purpose," she said abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's so."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, call it a matter of vanity," he said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In what way?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You excited my curiosity—you were a little +too clever in our last interview."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So you kept on with your investigations?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Successful?" she said lightly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed? Do you know who took the ring?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The first time? No."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped, looked at him intently, and said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The second time then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know who took it the second time."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed without confusion and, turning from +him, went toward the fireplace, resting one bare arm +on the mantel, the red splash of the ruby showing +like a flare of anger against her cheek. She looked +back at McKenna, who had not moved, saying with +an admonishing shake of her head:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna, you are guessing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a good guess."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me hear your theory."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not a theory today."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yesterday it was a guess; today, I know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because today I saw Mapleson," he said, watching her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes? Mapleson, of Sontag & Company? I +know him very well," she replied with still no +expression but amusement. "What then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The ring was pawned with him, a personal +matter, the morning after the theft, for the sum of +twenty-eight thousand dollars. It was redeemed +today."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By whom?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By you, naturally," said McKenna, yet despite +his absolute conviction, her composure was such that +he was almost shaken in his theory.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mapleson never told you that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No; he refused to answer. It lay in my mind +between you and Mrs. Cheever. The fact that he +would not answer, gave me my strongest clue."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In what way?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If it had been Mrs. Cheever, he would not have +concealed it, because it would have been a theft. +But as it was you who came to him, he refused to +divulge the name, because he knew that no crime +had been committed and that we had either no right +to be investigating, or were doing so to be blinded +by you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna, you are guessing," said Mrs. Kildair +again. "You are supposing that only Mrs. Cheever +and I are on such terms with him that we could make +such a personal transaction. As a matter of fact, +not only Mrs. Bloodgood, but her husband and Miss +Lille could have done the same thing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"True," said McKenna, but he added obstinately: +"No, the only reason Mapleson withheld the name +was because no crime had been committed."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Before we go on," she said with the same +mocking smile, "would you mind telling me how you +worked out this theory? Sit down. I really am +interested."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>If McKenna had not in his possession one bit of +information which he had withheld, he would have +felt the nervousness of a possible and ridiculous +failure. At it was, a doubt flashed across his mind; but +he allowed her to see none of this hesitation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm perfectly willing to let you know how it +came about," he said, sitting down and speaking +frankly. "I'm not laying claim to anything startling. +I'll admit now that as to the details of how +it was done, and why it was done, I don't know. I +can guess; but I don't know. But as to tracing the +ring and working back from that—that's A.B.C." Then, +with a flash of intuition, he said abruptly: +"Of course, Mapleson has just 'phoned you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, go on," she said without reply, drawn +back a little, listening intently.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The first thing I did was to locate the ring," +he began. "You yourself know how easy it is +to follow a stone worth thirty thousand. You know +that, because the moment you found out I was on the +case, you knew I would learn that Slade gave it to +you. That's why you had me come here—to block it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's true."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, for a while, I admit I was in the dark, +following several clues, and I don't mind saying here +that until your engagement I was not at all sure it +wasn't Mr. Slade himself who had taken that way +of recovering it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's strange," she said, startled. "Yes, I can +see that was possible, too."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, what I was working on," said McKenna, +"was the strongest motive—that whoever took it +up, took it because he had to take it to raise money, +to pay a debt or to gamble on the market. So I +investigated two ways—first, the back histories and +the present standing of every one at your party; +second, in the great jewelry shops, to find out if the +ring had been sold or pawned."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't believe it had been done openly—that +would have been too risky—but through some +channel like Mapleson. But I wasn't thinking of +Mapleson then. I couldn't locate the ring. I found +out that Bloodgood, Cheever, Mrs. Cheever, Miss +Lille and Garraboy had all speculated heavily on the +market next day. That didn't help much. Now I +come to my interview with you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair nodded and leaned forward slightly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That worried me. After that, I did one thing +and thought another. Down at the bottom, there +was something that kept me thinking about you, +something that bothered me. That's where the +guess-work comes in, but I don't know as I'd call it +guess-work. It's an instinct you get when you come in +contact with a person—it's put me on the right +track many a time. I saw you didn't want anything +done, but what fooled me was, I thought it was—" He +hesitated, and then said boldly: "Mrs. Kildair, +no use talking unless we say what we mean, is there?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right, be professional," she said with a +quick nod. "You thought I wished to conceal what +my true relations were with Slade? That's it, isn't it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that was it," he said slowly. "And being +wrong myself, I figured out a possible motive. I +was dead sure you knew who had taken the ring. +Don't ask how—that's instinct—but I knew. So +I figured out it was blackmail you were afraid of, +and I began looking around for the lady or +gentleman who would know that the ring had belonged +to Slade. Do you see?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, go on. It's very plausible."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It looked like Garraboy, and it looked like the +Cheevers at times," he said. "Then Mr. Beecher +told me of seeing Mapleson in Mrs. Cheever's box +at the opera, and that you said you knew him. +That's what started me on Mapleson. Likewise, I +began thinking more and more about that interview +with you. Then came your engagement and I flung +over all my theories, and got down to work. I +began to look you up, and when I found out the +situation from Mapleson, I made up my mind then and +there, for one reason or another, you yourself took +the ring the second time."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that all?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, this evening I got the last link I'd been +waiting for."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your account with your broker, and the record +of sales," he said, bringing out a slip from his pocket.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you get convictions on such evidence as +this?" she said steadily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said frankly; "but I get confessions."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I take my own ring?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The situation was unusual. You probably +learned of Majendie's failure and you plunged on +the short side."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But why not do so openly?" she said calmly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He hesitated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you really want me to answer that?" he said +finally.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We are not mincing words."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You were not engaged to Mr. Slade at that +moment," he began.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do know. The one thing in your interview +with me I particularly remember was your anxiety +that Mr. Slade should know nothing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She remained thoughtful, bracing her fingers +against each other, carefully considering what he +had shown he knew.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And your theory is that I took the ring the +second time," she said, "when whoever first took it +had thrown it on the table, that I called in detectives +to make Slade believe it had been stolen, so that I +could gamble in Wall Street without being +suspected."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly," he said. "I have no means of knowing +who took it first, but I would gamble my soul +you took it the second time. For another reason: +any one who took it knew he faced a search—that it +was almost impossible to get it out of the room. +The only person who could take it without being +suspected was yourself."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna," she said at last, but without the +amusement that had formerly been in her eyes, "you +are still guessing."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He rose impatiently and went across the room, his +hands behind his back.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, Mrs. Kildair," he said, turning, "do you +wish me to report what I have just told you to my +client, Mr. Beecher—as a guess?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She stood up at once, fully alert.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair, I am not an enemy," he continued, +with a sudden change of manner. "I may not know +all—but I know too much. Now, I'll tell you right +out why I want your confidence. You marry John +G. Slade. Slade is going to be one of the biggest +figures in the country; I know that. I've had his +business; I want to keep it. It's going to be ten +times what it was before. More, I want his +backing. I want several big jobs other agencies have +got—The Bankers' Association, for one. Now, +from what I've seen of you, the force back of Slade +will be Mrs. Slade. Tell me yourself what I already +know and I know I've got you as a friend. Keep +it from me, and I know you'll supplant me with your +husband. There may come a time when I can serve +you—you never can tell. It's worth trying. I +repeat I know too much. The only way to guard +against it is by full confidence."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right. I will tell you," she said +suddenly, and she added seriously, "I was prepared to +tell you. But it is understood this remains our +secret."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My word."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And that Mr. Beecher is not to have the slightest +clue. Can you promise me that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I have another story ready."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good. Then it is an alliance," she said, and she +offered her hand abruptly, with a movement full of +authority.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna shook hands, surprised at the masculine +directness of her grip, surprised too at the utter +disappearance from her face and attitude of all the +impulsive fire and fascination that had first struck him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right, and you are wrong," she said +directly. "I took the ring, but in an entirely +different way from what you believe. I did not take it +at the table, as you think—do you know where I +found it?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"In the pocket of Mr. Beecher's overcoat."</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>McKenna was so startled at this announcement +that the expression on his face brought +a smile to the face of the woman.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me begin at the beginning," she said.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>While he seated himself, she continued moving +about, her head down, her lip closed over her under +lip, carefully considering the situation. She had no +fear to give her confidence. She understood the +man with whom she was dealing, the more so for his +open avowal of his reasons for seeking her +friendship. Also she was fully alive as to the strength +of such an alliance. What she considered was how +much she should reveal. To-morrow she would be +Mrs. John G. Slade, at the goal of her ambitions, +over what perilous paths only she herself knew. +The knowledge of what she had won suffocated her, +for the nature of dramatic and adventurous spirits +is such that they must seek relief in confidence. +More, they crave the admiration that only another +can bring to complete their moments of self-intoxication. +At this moment, when her rôle had been +played, she craved applause. McKenna was not a +friend—he was a machine, a rock that would give +back an echo. Beside, what had he not divined?</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna," she began quietly, though weighing +her words, "to any one else I might tell my story +differently. With you it is otherwise. You are no +fool. I shall speak openly. On the night of my +party I was virtually ruined."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ruined!" exclaimed McKenna, with an involuntary +glance at the luxury which surrounded them.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When I say ruined, I mean for me," she said, +nodding. She became thoughtful, looking beyond +him, seeing a distant self. "When I came here I +had fifteen thousand a year. I was not satisfied. I +wanted forty. I gambled. I have always gambled. +I lost heavily. That night I had only five thousand +a year left. That was ruin for me. I speculated +on the tips of a man who deliberately and for a +purpose misinformed me. Can you guess who that +man was?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Slade," said McKenna instantly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Slade," she said. "It has been a desperate +struggle between us. Tomorrow I shall become +his wife. That is what I want more than I have +ever wanted anything else. It is my right—you +will see what I will do. Understand me, if Slade +had failed I should not have married him, and yet +I tell you frankly he is the only man I have known +that appeals to me in every way. However," she +added, with a little abrupt movement of her closed +hand, "that's over. I have won."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he know that you had lost?" asked McKenna slowly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she said with a smile, "he never knew. +Not that he would not have made it up—in his +way. It is a game he must have played many times." She +went to a writing-desk and, unlocking a drawer, +brought out a note. "When I told you he gave me +this ring with an offer of marriage," she said, +returning, "that was not true. He had no thought of +marriage then—far from it. He offered me the +ring and I refused it, knowing that he did so only +to try my weakness. Also, he wanted to find out +what I knew of Majendie and the Atlantic Trust. +When he left he sent it back with this note. Read it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna took the sheet, smoothing out the +wrinkles, and held it up.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR LADY:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Apologies for my rudeness. If you won't accept a gift, +at least wear the ring for a week. I should like to know +what effect it could have on your cold little soul. Oblige +my curiosity. It's only a little reparation for the +disappointment I gave you.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>J.G.S.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Kildair took the note again and returning to +the desk locked it in the drawer.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"This, then, was my situation the night of the +party. I had lost two thirds of what I had. I was +absolutely resolved to play everything I possessed +on one last gamble. I need not remind you of the +financial situation at that time. I knew Majendie +and I knew Slade. Furthermore, I knew +Mrs. Bloodgood. The problem was this—if Majendie +was to be supported and the Atlantic Trust to be +upheld, there would probably be no panic. If Majendie +failed, I knew there would be a tremendous break +in stocks—a killing for those who knew what was +coming. That night everything depended on my +solving Majendie's fate. I did and I won. It was +a guess, but a guess such as you understand. I have +known too many men not to know how a true man +acts under such circumstances. He came from the +meeting that had condemned him, and the first +moment he greeted Mrs. Bloodgood, I was sure that he +was lost. Later, as he bowed ironically to +something I had said, I saw in the gaping of his pocket +something that gave me another clue—a slight +thing, but which had a lot to do with what +followed—just an edge of a green folder."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A folder?" said McKenna, perplexed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, a folder that I thought might be a railroad +time-table," she said, nodding. "I knew, of course, +of Mrs. Bloodgood's infatuation. I had her +confidence. I knew that she had started to procure a +divorce. I likewise knew how often she had begged +Majendie to elope with her. Furthermore, almost +every one there that night was watching Majendie +for the same purpose—all who were speculating; +Mr. and Mrs. Cheever, Bloodgood, Garraboy, Maud +Lille, Slade—who came in late, quite +unexpected—were there on the same errand."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that I understood," said McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, I come to the actual theft of the ring. +The moment I found it had been taken, I realized +all the difficulties of my position, how dangerous +any inquiry would be to my reputation, which would +necessarily establish the fact of its being a gift of +Slade's. I resolved on desperate measures. That +is why I came back, had the doors locked, extinguished +the lights, and announced that I would call +in detectives to have every one searched, unless the +ring was restored during the period in the dark, +while I counted one hundred."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you suspect who had taken it?" asked McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There were several I could suspect—that was +the trouble," she said. "As you know, when I had +counted sixty-one, there was a sound on the table. +Every one exclaimed! The ring had been restored! +When the lights were lit the table was bare. +Evidently a second thief had taken what the first had +restored. That's what I thought—every one +thought. I was wrong. There were not two thieves, +there was only one."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The same person had put it down as a blind and +taken it again," said McKenna slowly, as she waited +for his comment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she replied, smiling. "It was all cleverly +planned, and only an accident prevented its being +successful. My ring was never on the table."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The ring that was thrown down, then," said +McKenna, suddenly enlightened, "was another ring—a +blind—to cover what any one might have seen? +I see!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And also to make it appear that the ring was +in the studio."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand it now," said McKenna, +nodding, with a sudden snap of his fingers.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I immediately went out, locking the door, and +telephoned for my detectives. To this point this was +my only thought. When I had done that, I began to +think over what had happened. It seemed incredible +to me that any one should have dared take such +a risk—particularly as a search was inevitable. +When I returned to the studio and awaited the +arrival of my detectives, this was my only thought. I +studied each and I became convinced that the ring +would not be found on any one. If that were true, +where was it? In the studio, hidden somewhere—but +even there it would be sure to be found—so +why should any one have even risked that?" She +stopped a moment and then said quietly, with again +that same far-seeing look beyond him: "McKenna, +in my life I have seen many strange scenes. I have +known of many more. One such came back to me +and I guessed this much—that the real ring had not +been heard. But that was all. When the detectives +arrived, I went quietly into the hall, still trying to +work it out. Quite by accident, I brushed against +one of the coats that was hanging over the railing +and knocked it down. Absolutely mechanically, +without knowing why I did it, when I picked it up +I ran my hands in the pockets. In the second was +the ring."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And the coat, you say, was Beecher's?" said +McKenna, amazed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait. I replaced it hurriedly, noticing how +similar it was to another that still lay on the rail. +Then I opened the door and ushered the detectives +into the dining-room. I had the ring, but I did +not know the thief. Then all at once it came over +me to what use I might put what had occurred. I +had the ring which had been offered me, but which +I could not accept openly. I could now use it to raise +money for the speculation I had resolved upon, +without Slade's knowing of the obligation. Second, I +wanted to make sure that I had really seen a +time-table in the pocket of Majendie. I gave my order +to that effect to the detectives and started the search."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it a time-table?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing was found. Majendie, profiting either +by the first period of darkness, or the second, had +thrown it away. I found it in the waste-basket a +little later. It was a time-table and his very action +made my guess a certainty."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But the thief?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When the turn of Garraboy arrived," said Mrs. Kildair, +"he left, as all did, without returning to +the studio. I was watching him particularly. Five +minutes after he left, he returned. He had taken +Mr. Beecher's coat by mistake."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>An exclamation of annoyance escaped McKenna. +He sprang up angrily.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Kildair," he said, not attempting to restrain +his annoyance, "that is the one thing Mr. Beecher +neglected to tell me—see how we are handicapped—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not blaming you, McKenna," said Mrs. Kildair +with a smile. "On the contrary, you discovered +entirely too much."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It was cleverly worked out," said McKenna +grimly, "and no risk. He had his wits about him. +Sounding another ring on the table to limit the +search to the studio was quick thinking. Planting +it in Beecher's coat was better. Even if he were +caught with it on, he could pretend amazement, a +natural mistake. And if not, it was a clean +getaway," he added ruefully. "All the same, I wish +I'd known that detail."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"For the rest you were right. Mapleson loaned +me the money. He is an old acquaintance, and I +have once or twice," she said carelessly, "rendered +him important services. He did telephone me ten +minutes before you came. I staked everything I +had in the market. I doubled my losses. Is there +any other point?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Your having the detectives stay was, of course, +a blind?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course. I called Miss Charters and Garraboy +on purpose. To this day I wonder who he +thinks got the ring from him."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"He suspects," said McKenna.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Probably," she said carelessly. Then she turned +on him. "Now, McKenna, answer me a question."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Which one?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a thing I want to know," she said, with a +sudden shade of dread creeping over her face. "It +is one of those fatalities in life that are so terrible. +Majendie killed himself because he thought the +detectives on his track had a warrant for his arrest. +Weren't they, in fact, your men, simply placed there +to record his movements for Slade?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Slade," said McKenna, not noticing the +slip, "you have just given me a profound confidence. +Would you trust in my power to keep it, if, +supposing I knew anything, I should tell you? Ask +your husband himself and tell me yourself. I am +curious also."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Kildair, who saw in the politic evasion a +feminine answer, nodded and drew back with a +shudder.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Kiki entering announced that +Mr. Beecher was below.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell him the truth," said McKenna quickly. +"That is, three quarters of the truth. Leave it to me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When Beecher entered, expectation and long-restrained +curiosity on his face, McKenna, with a look +of crestfallen defeat which completely deceived him, +said immediately:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Beecher, have you that envelope I gave you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I to open it?" said Beecher eagerly, bringing +it out.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"On the contrary," said McKenna, taking it +quickly. He took it and could not resist examining +the edges to see if it had been tampered with. +"This is one of my failures, Mr. Beecher," he said, +tearing it into small pieces. "I've got too much +vanity to let you see what an ass I've been."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What does this mean?" said Beecher, standing +open-mouthed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It means, Teddy," said Mrs. Kildair severely, +"that it is entirely your fault."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My fault!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, your fault. You neglected to tell Mr. McKenna +the one thing that was important."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What thing—what do you mean?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That Mr. Garraboy went off with your coat by +mistake."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mr. Beecher," said McKenna, shaking his +head, "by not telling me that one detail, you've made +a fool out of me."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, Garraboy took it!" said Beecher, his face +lighting up with a smile of triumph.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Garraboy took it, planted it in your pocket and +then faked the ring at the table. The ring was +returned through a woman who guessed it and had it +restored. Her name is a secret, but you are at +liberty to guess."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Lille," said Beecher to himself. This +dénouement, which coincided so closely with his own +divination, completely convinced him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If you've no further use for me," said McKenna, +with the same hang-dog look, "I'll be going. +Another time I hope to serve you better."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," said Mrs. Kildair, who contrived +to add to the words a little smile, comprehensible +only to the detective.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Permit me to give you my profound congratulations," +said McKenna, taking her hand with a bow +that made Beecher open his eyes in wonder. "I +wish you every success."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Au revoir</em><span>, McKenna," said Mrs. Kildair, still +smiling.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night, McKenna," said Beecher in turn.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you," said the detective, going off grumbling; +"I have a bone to pick with you."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher laughed guiltily when the door had closed.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove," he said, "McKenna certainly is in +bad humor. I'm sorry. But he was off on a +tangent, wasn't he?"</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxvi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>"Just one thing I would like to know," said +Beecher when Mrs. Kildair, following McKenna's +lead, had left off with Garraboy's departure.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" she said, noticing his sudden embarrassment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He could not keep from his face a new consciousness, +but he went on lamely:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did Miss Charters come back?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed at what his manner revealed, and said:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So that's it! I told you she came when I +telephoned her."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but why did you do that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I noticed her agitation and the way she +watched one person in particular."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bloodgood?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What did she tell you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She had seen Mrs. Bloodgood pick up the ring +and try it on," said Mrs. Kildair. "The +circumstances did seem suspicious, for Mrs. Bloodgood +looked up in the mirror and saw her watching her. +Miss Charters did not know whether she had returned +it, I suppose. That was all. It did look +bad—considering what happened afterward."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That was it, then," said Beecher, satisfied. He +raised his head and saw Mrs. Kildair's eyes on him +intently.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" he said with an innocent expression.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How far has it gone?" said Mrs. Kildair.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you in love with Miss Charters?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder," he said evasively.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you serious?" she asked quickly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And if I said yes—"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are thinking of marriage?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And if I were?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd be a big fool," she said decisively.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He raised his eyebrows, astonished and wounded.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You say this—the day before your own?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Come here," she said, taking him by the wrist +and leading him to the sofa. "Sit down there. Are +you really seriously thinking of marriage?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I am."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She drew back in her chair, looking at him in +doubt.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy," she said at last, "you are too worth +while to be spoiled like that. You have been too +loyal a friend for me not to keep you from this blunder."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But, good heavens, am I not a responsible being?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen," she said, cutting him off. She glanced +at the clock. "I haven't much time, so don't +interrupt me. I am very fond of you and what I say is +in kindness. Yes, I am going to marry, and yet I +say to you that you should not. I understand what +it means. I have nothing to learn. There are two +kinds of marriages, Teddy. The marriage that +ninety-nine persons out of a hundred make—the +marriage that is a joining of forces to fight the +battle of life—has a definite object. The wife is the +helpmate. The serious thing is to live, to pay the +bills and to save a little money. You have nothing +to do with that kind of marriage. The other kind +of marriage is the marriage our sort makes, most of +the time—no responsibilities, no object, and no +struggle. You take a wife to help you enjoy +yourself, and your enjoyment depends on piling up new +sensations—in never being bored. Happiness in +such conditions is a miracle. As a matter of fact, +it is not a marriage at all, it is simply a liaison."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Even then?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, certain liaisons have lasted and been happy," +she admitted; "we know that, but only on the same +terms that will make permanent happiness in such a +marriage. You are not a worker—you are simply +curious about life, and curiosity is not a thing that is +satisfied by one experience. The marriage you would +make now would simply be an experience in curiosity, +with inevitable results. To have any chance of +success, do you know what ought to be?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There should be on each side an equal experience +in curiosity. When you have known two hundred +women, you will find that there is always one above +the rest who is necessary to you. Miss Charters +may be that one now, but without the experience I +speak of, you will never recognize it until too late. +Therefore," she said, standing up, "don't marry for +ten years. Not with such eyes and such lips," she +said, passing her hand over the flushed face of the +young man. "I know what I'm speaking of. Life's +a very big world when you're alone, and a very small +patch when you're married. Wait. Think over +what I've said, Teddy."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He did think over what she had told him as he +walked out into the street.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She sees very clearly," he said solemnly, "and +there's a great deal in what she says—a great deal," +he repeated firmly, and stopping at the first hotel he +telephoned Nan Charters.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning he received another note from her.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Just to repeat, Teddy dear, that I think too much of +you to hold you to what happened yesterday. We must both +think </span><em class="italics">seriously—very seriously</em><span>.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>NAN.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>"That's right: we must think seriously," he +repeated solemnly, and reached for the papers, after +eying the telephone for a long time.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther called up later in the morning to give +him an astonishing bit of news—Garraboy had +sailed for Europe at nine that morning, and on the +same ship had gone Mrs. Cheever. But this news did +not excite him in the least. He spent the morning +very heavily, keeping to his promise not to telephone +with great difficulty. He did not go to his club for +luncheon, but took his meal alone at a chance restaurant.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Then he went to call on Emma Fornez.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha, you have called to talk to me about your +little Chartèrs," said the prima donna at once.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know?" he said bluntly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very simple; when a man's in love he never +talks it over with a man—no, he always goes to +another woman."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, would you be surprised if I married Miss +Charters?" he said, glad to have arrived at the only +topic which interested him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If you what!" exclaimed Mme. Fornez, catapulting +from the sofa.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If I marry," he repeated firmly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Marry? Oh, no, no, no!" she cried, with her +hands on her hips and bobbing her head to each +negation. "Amuse yourself—love—flirt—break her +heart or break yours—</span><em class="italics">est-ce que je sais</em><span>—but +marry? What! You are mad!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean it."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, impossible! Marry one of us—an actress—you—a +nice boy? </span><em class="italics">Allons donc</em><span>. You ought to +be shut up. Marry Chartèrs. You might just as +well marry Emma Fornez, and when I say that—oh, +la, la! My poor boy, I pity you!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But you all marry."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"True. But what difference does it make to us?" +she threw out her chin, the gesture of the peasant. +"You are serious?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me talk to you. I have only a minute. My +masseuse is coming and in America one doesn't +receive with a masseuse—</span><em class="italics">enfin</em><span>. Listen to me well. +You want to marry seriously—for good, then? +Children and all the rest? Well, my boy, you might +just as well marry Emma Fornez and expect her to +spend her days over a ragout as to marry Chartèrs. +Will she give up her career?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We haven't thought of that."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It makes no difference. On the stage, off the +stage, it's the same thing. She won't change. Do +you want to play the part of a valet, a little dancing +dog, </span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>? For that's just what you'll be; and one +of twenty. For she's used to crowds of men. She +won't change. Love, my dear boy, is madness, +hallucination, you are drunk; but everything returns as +it was before—believe me. If I were a man I'd +never fall in love with a woman until I married +her—it's easy enough then. You would know what +you're getting!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The masseuse came in, sliding on tiptoe from one +door to another.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Victorine—</span><em class="italics">ma masseuse</em><span>! In a minute, in a +minute, Madame Tenier. I'll be with you in a +minute. Where was I? Teddy, you do not know us +professional women—we are wrestlers, we are +always struggling with you men—I warn you. No +two ways. She will never be happy, my dear +boy—because she never is happy. We are never happy, or +we would not be what we are. And what of moods, +day in and day out. </span><em class="italics">Tiens</em><span>—I'll tell you what you'll +be—another Victorine. Victorine, </span><em class="italics">où diable es-tu</em><span>? +No, no, Teddy; don't be a big fool; don't be an idiot. +You are so nice. You can amuse yourself so well. +Don't put your head in a noose. If she loves you +now, she won't to-morrow; she can't help it. Then +where'll you be—in the soup, </span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>. And she? No, +no, believe me, Teddy, never marry, in the first +place, and then never marry one of us."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There's something in what she says," thought +Beecher, as he moodily descended in the elevator. +"She knows her own kind better than I do."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He looked undecidedly at the clock and went to +pay a dinner call on Mrs. Craig Fontaine. In ten +minutes they were on the same subject.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am terribly upset," said the young widow. +"I don't want any trouble to come to you, and I can't +help thinking that what you are considering is a very +risky step. In the first place, Teddy, you are too +young."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He made a movement of impatience at this repetition, +which had begun to offend his sense of dignity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know what is ahead," she said warmly. +"You do not realize that points of view change. +What you seek now, romance, adventure, is not what +you'll seek at thirty-five, and life is mostly after +thirty-five, Ted. Today you are willing to +sacrifice every friend in the world for one love; +tomorrow you will realize that friends are our life, their +ways, their companionship, their interests. Today +you hold yourself very cheaply; tomorrow you will +wake up, look round you, see what other women have +brought to their husbands, and you will say, 'What +am I worth?'"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You believe in mercenary marriages, then?" he +said irritably.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but I believe in staying in the same society +in which you belong. I don't want to be cruel, but +Miss Charters is of another world. I know there is +nothing against her. She may be able to enter your +world, and then again she may not want to—may +prefer the freedom of her own, and you will follow +her. Have you thought of that? Your friends +must be your wife's friends, or you will give them +up. Marriage, Teddy, which can be the most +decisive act in a man's life, is the one he throws away +the most lightly. I'm only afraid you may wake up +to what you might have done, Teddy. You are +young, eager, you are not yet bored. You may feel +the desire to be something, to do something that +counts in your life. I don't want you then to wake +up and realize that another marriage might have +given you the connections you wanted, the added +opportunity. At this moment marriage appears to you +the only thing that counts; you will realize some day +that it is the least thing in it." She smiled, as he +looked amazed, and added: "No amount of discussion +can make you understand these things—they +must be lived. But, Teddy, before you leap, ask +yourself seriously what you are worth."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When he left Mrs. Fontaine's presence, he did so +with lagging steps. The advice of these three +women, so various and viewing life from such +divergent points of view, profoundly impressed him. +He tried to argue against what had been told him, +and as this process irritated him beyond measure, he +broke off, acknowledging their superior insight. +But all at once he stopped short, enlightened by a +sudden reflection.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If what they say is true ... why did they all marry?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>This answer, which might seem no answer at all, +appeared to the mind of the lover, which is to say to +the mind seeking to be convinced, so complete and +startling a refutation, that he swung on his heel, and +went directly to offer himself to Miss Charters.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst" id="epilogue"><span class="bold large">EPILOGUE</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Three years after the close of these events +there were gathered in a box of the Metropolitan +Opera, Mr. and Mrs. Gunther, senior, the +Teddy Beechers, Bruce Gunther and a Miss Clarice +Fanning, of the Virginia Fannings, a young girl +demure, direct, with already in the youthful instincts +of her pose more than a suggestion of the dignity +and elegance which would come to grace the woman. +From time to time, by a little movement of her fan, +she brought to her shoulder for a whispered +comment Bruce Gunther, who, though he had seated +himself behind Mrs. Beecher, was compensated by +the advantage of thus exchanging glances. All +these little messages, which the young girl flattered +herself were so cleverly executed as to remain +invisible, were seen by every one in the box with +discreet enjoyment.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>At the end of the act the two young men excused +themselves and departed to make a round of visits.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nan's charming, Ted," said Gunther, who saw +them both for the first time since their long stay +in Europe. He added with the extra enthusiasm with +which a man of the world conveys his surprise at +an unexpected development: "By George! she has +the manners of a duchess! The governor, crabby +old critic, too, is quite won over by her."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She has developed beautifully," said Beecher, +with a certain proprietary responsibility which young +husbands feel deeply. "She is a remarkable +woman! ... remarkable!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you fooled all the prophets," said Gunther +in his blunt way.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How so?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We gave you a year, at the most," said Gunther, +who stopped short and looked at his friend as though +to ask the explanation of such a miracle.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My wife adores me," said Beecher, with a smile.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther smiled to himself and thought that if the +wife had developed as though by right into the sure +and brilliant woman of the world, the husband at +heart had retained the same boyish irreverence of +the mysterious depths of life.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought to get into something, Ted," he said +abruptly. "You can't loaf in America! ... I'll +give you an opening."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's why the Missus brought me back," said +Beecher. "Look out, I may take up that offer!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>This reply, unconsciously delivered, gave Gunther +the first glimpse of light into the perplexing success +of his friend's marriage.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, where's the first call?" he said, registering +in his mind this last perception.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to drop in on Mrs. Fontaine, Mrs. Slade," +... he considered a moment and added, "Mrs. Bloodgood, +too, I am anxious to see..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't forget Emma Fornez ... you ought to +go behind," said Gunther, for the opera was </span><em class="italics">Carmen</em><span>.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Beecher, with a little hesitation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Next act ... Let's drop in on Louise Fontaine, +first..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"There are reasons ... just at present..." +said Gunther with a slight frown. "Anyhow, here's +Slade's box—let's begin here."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Slade at their entrance rose directly, and +came to meet them in the antechamber.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How nice of you to come here first," she said +with genuine pleasure, extending both her hands. +"Mr. Gunther, go into the box ... I want a few +minutes alone with Teddy!" She turned to Beecher, +motioning him to a seat on the cushioned settee in +the little pink and white room that was like a jewel +box. "I saw you at once ... Your wife has made +a sensation!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is you, Rita, who are astonishing!" he said +abruptly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How so?" she said, already comprehending the +frank wonder in his eyes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You always did fascinate us, you know," he said, +reclining a bit, the better to take in the elegant +sinuosities of her pose. "But that was nothing to you +now ... You are the opera itself!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite yet," she said, with a confident little +bob of the head. She added, "I am happy!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In truth, just as men of conscious greatness who, +in the period of their struggles, have a certain brusque +and impatient unease, suddenly in the day of their +success acquire a dignity and a radiating charm that +astonishes, so in her a similar transformation had +operated. The old feline restlessness, the swift and +nervous changes from Slavic somnolence to sparkling +energy, has been subdued in a clear serenity, and as +she received the flattering tribute of the young man +who had been associated with her period of +uncertainty, there was in her smile a new graciousness +that was not without its authority.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You too are happy!—it shows!" she said after +the moment which she allowed Beecher to study her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have children?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Two." Then recalling with a little pardonable +malice the intention of his visit, he said: "You were +a bad prophet, Rita! ... You remember?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I do."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I underestimated your intelligence, my dear +Teddy," she said, with a fugitive smile. "You are +settling in America?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the Missus has planned to make me a captain +of finance," he said with a laugh. "However, +I am ready for something active."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell your wife," she said irrelevantly, "that I +will come to see her after the next act. My husband +returns tomorrow ... save the night after for us +... I want to be as good a friend to her as you +have been to me! ... Give my message exactly!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I promise!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>All at once his eyes, which had been searching, +rested on her left hand. On the fourth finger, +guarded by the gold band of her marriage, was the +ruby ring.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the same, isn't it?" he asked.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I always wear it," she said, raising it to her +eyes. "It is a fetish."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We ran across Garraboy a couple of times +... He married her, you know."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She married him, you mean..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that would be more correct ... watches +the beggar like a hound ... a pleasant life he has +of it! ... By the way, did the story about the ring +ever leak out?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Never!" She rose, as though feeling the +end of the intermission. "Tell me one thing, +Teddy...."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A dozen!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you tell your wife I advised you not to marry?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Never!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't! ... There are things a woman doesn't +forgive, and I want to be good friends!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher nodded.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Gunther came out, and she gave them her fingers, +remaining tall and stately, her head inclined a little +pensively, until they had left.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Most remarkable woman here!" said Gunther +briefly. "In a year or so more she'll be the +undisputed leader."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What about John G.?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The coming man. You know we're in close +relations with him. The Governor has a great +admiration for him, and you know it isn't often the +Governor is taken that way!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What's he doing?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Railroad unification, territorial development +... only man in this country who can appreciate +what the Canadian Pacific is doing!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought he was considered rather a freebooter?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So he was. Big men change when they get +what they want. He had an interview with the old +man, and laid his cards on the table. Governor said +it was the frankest confidence he'd ever heard. When +he went into the railroad field, it was at the mercy +of a lot of clever little stock-jobbers, who were +playing it like a game of roulette. Slade's driven 'em +out, broken their backs, bankrupted them ... Oh! he +strikes hard! ... Now there's a real railroad +policy, with a national object."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem quite enthusiastic over him yourself," +said Beecher, glancing at the plates on the boxes.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I am. He's a constructive ... that's what we want!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"When did all this happen?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"A couple of months after that affair of the +Atlantic Trust."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher stopped, and with a gesture showed his +companion a plate on which was inscribed:</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst"><span>ENOS BLOODGOOD.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>"I never can forget Majendie that night," he said, +sobered by the recollection of the events in which +he had been such an agitated spectator. "By Jove, +he was true blue!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"If he'd had the nerve to face the music he'd be +a rich man to-day," said Gunther, meditatively.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The Atlantic Trust is stronger than ever. Of +course, technically, Majendie did things he had no +right to do, but do you know, every investment he +made has turned out enormously profitable! Queer +how one man drops out and another pops up."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder how much of it was business, and +how much was..." Beecher broke off and a +second time gestured in the direction of the box.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Who knows?" said Gunther, with a shrug of his +shoulders.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher glanced down the corridor to assure +himself there was yet time, and opened the door.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>In the front row of the box Mrs. Bloodgood was +laughing gaily with three or four young men who +were bending flatteringly over her. In the back +Bloodgood was seated, dozing in a corner. Beecher +hardly recognized him. Of the once rugged physique +nothing remained but a senile fluttering. Some +mysterious disease had struck him down and marked his +hours. At this moment Mrs. Bloodgood, aware of a +shadow in the doorway, turned and met the profound +and memory-troubled gaze of the young man. She +recognized him and in the same moment divined his +thoughts. By a movement which she could not +control, she brought her fan, which had been extended +in a tantalizing gesture under the eyes of one of her +satellites, into a protective barrier, as though to shield +herself from the too frank melancholy of this +disturbing gaze. Their eyes met. Beecher inclined his +head. It was at the same time a salutation and an +adieu.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>He found Gunther outside their box.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"The old fellow's in a pretty bad way," said his +friend, noticing his disturbed look.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It wasn't that!..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes,—she's taking her revenge!" said Gunther +with a laugh.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>To shake off this impression Beecher touched his +friend on the arm, and forcing a smile, said, with a +nod towards the box where Miss Fanning was waiting:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"So it's serious, Bruce?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But not for publication..." said Gunther with +a nod.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher would have liked to put a further question, +one which had presented itself already at the +thought of Louise Fontaine; but he refrained, for he +was aware in his friend of a certain new grimness +and implacability of purpose which, as in his father, +had the effect of withdrawing him from the ordinary +club familiarity.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>After the second act he went behind the scenes to +greet Emma Fornez, who had just received an ovation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>The diva, with the same cry of delight in which +she recognized him, asked him what he thought of +her success.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You have reached the top.... Every new +</span><em class="italics">Carmen</em><span> must now be advertised as greater than +Emma Fornez!" he answered with a bow.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you have learned how to make compliments! +... Bravo!" she exclaimed. She advanced her +head, pointing to a little spot under her jeweled ear. +"There! ... your recompense! ... You look as +big a boy as ever! ... Tell me everything—all at +once! ... Victorine, close the door. I see no +one—</span><em class="italics">tu m'entends</em><span>? ... I am too red tonight, </span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not from the boxes!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Si, si</em><span>! ... I must be more pale ... Sit down, +sit down!" She enveloped her shoulders in a shawl, +and studied her face in the flashing mirror, pulling +her make-up box towards her. "You have come +back ... for good, Teddy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are always married?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a pity—</span><em class="italics">enfin</em><span>! ... Happy?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Very!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Too bad! ... And you have come </span><em class="italics">pour tirer +la langue à Emma Fornez</em><span> ... who tried to frighten +you!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly!" said Beecher, laughing.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you needn't be so conceited about it! If +you are still living together—it is because ..." she +stopped a moment to correct the beady fringe of the +eyes, "because your wife is a very, very clever +woman!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, just that! ... and because she finds she +can lead you around conveniently by the nose +... just so!" She leaned over and illustrated her +meaning with a little tweak before he could defend +himself.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I see, you are quite furious that we are not divorced!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She shrugged her shoulders.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"How many months is it?..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Three years ... Three and a half!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah! there is still hope!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>To tease her for this, he drew back, grinning with +elation.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you are having a beautiful time of it!" she +said, watching him in the mirror. "It amuses you +very much! ... But just you wait!" She raised +her hand, counting the fingers. "Three, four, +five—five years! That is the worst bridge of +all! ... Even my old Jacquot—poor soul—stood me for +five years! ... Just wait!" Then, struck by a +sudden reflection, she proceeded to revenge herself. +"If you are happy, I was right, after all! You +remember ... first time I saw Chartèrs ... I said +'it is not an actress, it is a woman!' ..." She +emphasized the point with a satisfied shrug. "I was +right, and there you are!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Emma, don't let's fight," he said, hugely +amused. "I'm glad to see you again!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I, too," she said, tapping his arm, and turning +her darkened face towards him for better inspection. +"Better so, </span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>? ... So you are rich now, Teddy +... An uncle was good enough to die?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Two!..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! ... what a pity! ... And now you are +spoiled!" She began to soften the shadows of the +eyes. "Tell me one thing..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You ... you did not tell her—the wife—about +our little conspiracy?—the night of the cowboy +party, </span><em class="italics">hein</em><span>?..." As he hesitated she caught +the accusatory look in his eyes, and she wheeled about. +"</span><em class="italics">Comment</em><span>! ... You were so stupid! ... </span><em class="italics">Dieu! que +les hommes sont sôts</em><span>!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense! ... she laughed over it!" he said, +recovering himself. "Besides, she had guessed it +already!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Teddy," she said, in very bad humor, +"I take back all I said ... You were born a +husband—typical! ideal!—You would be content with +any one! ... with Victorine, even!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She flung the rabbit's foot furiously among the +pigments.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Allons</em><span>, we might just as well say adieu!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"She does not know you have come?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well ... don't be fool enough to tell +her! ... Go right back now. Make a call in some box +where she can see you, and escape a good..." She +stopped, shaking her hand in the direction of his ear.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are mistaken!" he began, flushing. "You +don't know her..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Mistaken ... tra-la-la! ... and I know her! ... All +I have to do is to see you, my poor Teddy, +to understand ... absolutely ... in every little +detail ... the woman who makes you so ... So—adieu!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not as tragic as all that," he said, laughing, +but giving his hand.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu! ... adieu!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I may come back ... when I am divorced?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That will never happen!" she persisted, +vindictively. "She has tamed you ... you are a +domestic animal ... a house pet ... like the cat and the +poodle dog!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Au revoir</em><span>, Emma," he said, refusing to be irritated.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Not good-by!" She took up a thread, broke it +with a vicious jerk, and let the ends float away. +"Victorine, </span><em class="italics">depêche-toi donc</em><span>!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Beecher, who had started with the intention of +extracting a legitimate revenge, had received little +satisfaction from his two interviews. Nevertheless, he +was not so naïve as to reject Emma Fornez's advice. +He went directly to Mrs. Craig Fontaine's box. +Louise, as though she had waited impatiently his +coming, started at once from her chair, meeting him +in the privacy of the antechamber. He was struck +at once by the constrained tensity of her glance.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You are in the Gunthers' box," she said, directly +the first greetings were over. "Where is Bruce? +Why didn't he come with you?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"We separated. I went behind to see Madame +Fornez..." he said lamely.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She was not deceived by his answer, made a rapid +calculation and said abruptly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Teddy, tell me the truth. Don't refuse me! +... You may be doing me a favor ... the greatest! ... Is +Bruce engaged? That little girl in the box?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Between them there had been the fullest loyalty, +and a confidence since school days. He was not +ignorant, therefore, of her infatuation for his friend, +though what dramatic turn it might have taken in +the years of his absence, he could only speculate.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is true," he said. "It is not to be known +... With you, Louise, it is different: you ought to +know!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She sat down, and he was frightened by the swift, +ashen pallor that rushed into her face. Alarmed, he +made a movement towards her.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait!" she said, faintly. "There are two questions +I must ask ... Did he, Bruce, send you to +tell me this?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No...." He hesitated, surprised at the +question, adding: "That is, I think not...."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it to be public—immediately?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not at once ... I am sure of that!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded her head with a little relief, and, +incapable of speech, raised her hand weakly as though +to excuse herself, then laid it over her heart. He +rose, turning his back, steadying himself. At the end +of a long moment she touched him on the shoulder.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I will come ... tomorrow ... and call on +your wife," she said, quietly. "Give her my very +best wishes, will you? ... And ... thank +you! ... You have done me a great service!..."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When he reached his box Bruce was waiting for him.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You saw Louise?" he said directly.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You told her?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I told her."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"That was right!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>They hesitated a moment, one whether to +question, the other whether to explain.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"I admire her as much as any woman," said Gunther, +at last. "She made only one blunder ... At +that, Fate was against her."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>This answer, and the way it was delivered, was all +that Beecher was permitted to understand of an +episode which deserves a novel to itself. Nevertheless, +he felt that there must have been something far out +of the ordinary to have brought forth from Gunther +this eulogy, which sounded at the moment like an +epitaph.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>When Beecher entered the lights were up on the +act. During the time in which he had been absent, +his wife, too, had been a prey to dramatic moods. +The stage and the world had been before her eyes +as the choices of her own life. She comprehended +what Beecher did not, all the advantages of her first +appearance in New York under the patronage of the +Gunthers, that was in itself a social cachet. +Mrs. Slade's flattering visit, as well as the accented +cordiality of acquaintances who had bowed to her from +their boxes, made her feel how easy would be her +way in this world, so easy of access by one entrance +and so hostile by a thousand others. She was +satisfied. Her doubts, if she had yielded to them a +moment, were gone. She had talked to Gunther of what +she wanted for her husband, and made of him a +friend, not insensible to the reason of the charm which +she had exerted. But in the moment in which the +social world presented itself to her as the endless +stretching Pacific flashed upon the dazzled eyes of +Balboa, she felt a sudden sense of loneliness and the +need of support. She rested her hand on the +strong-muscled arm of her husband, and designating with a +smile the young girl who was so artlessly and artfully +conveying her impatient delight at Bruce's return, +she sent her husband one of those looks which only +a perfectly happy woman has the power to retain +... that first fugitive, timid offering in the eyes of +lovers.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>The next day Mrs. Craig Fontaine's engagement +was announced in all the papers. It was a romance +of long standing ... the engagement now made +public for the first time was supposed to have lasted +several months, etc.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Slade had more than fulfilled her promise +towards McKenna. Through her active friendship +not only had he secured the entire patronage of her +husband, but had finally acquired the coveted field of +the Bankers' Association of America. His agency +had tripled in its ramifications and its power. This +man, who perceived clearly all the relative, often +confusing, shades of morality, was at the bottom an +idealist. He undertook two great campaigns: one +which resulted in the exposing of the mysterious +suzerainty over corrupt politics of a group of +outwardly respectable capitalists; and the other in the +purification of a great labor union from a band of +terrorists, who were betraying their ideals and selling +their sympathies. He had still one ambition, which +he had confided alone to Mrs. Slade, to whom he was +able to render in this period two invaluable +services—he wished one day to become Police Commissioner +of New York City, and create, in that cemetery of +reputations, a great police system that would vie with +the systems of Paris and London.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>Often Bruce Gunther would run into his office at +the close of the afternoon. He appreciated the +integrity of the detective, and he used him as he was +learning to use many men ... as so many windows +through which to look out on life. Gunther had not +been entirely the dupe of Rita Kildair's explanation +as to the theft of the ring. Above the mantelpiece +in the inner office of McKenna, framed in simple +passe-partout, hung the two clippings of the same +date: one the bare statement of the bank's support of +the Associated Trust, and underneath the engagement +of Rita Kildair and John G. Slade.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>These dramatically aligned scraps of information +for the public, never ceased to intrigue him. Many +a time he considered a direct question, but refrained +from respect. One day, however, pushed to the +verge by his curiosity, he said abruptly:</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"McKenna, are you going to write your memoirs, +some day?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps—some day!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought to—Publication fifty years from now."</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"May be ... may be!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"And that affair of the ring," said Gunther, pointing +to the notices. "Will you tell the truth about +that?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Write down my mistakes?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it a mistake?"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>McKenna nodded, gazing at the mantelpiece meditatively, +with an expression that was indecipherable.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Bad mistake!"</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"But I should say one of those failures that are +sometimes rather fortunate?" persisted Gunther.</span></p> +<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's a good thing to know how to turn a +failure to account. That's why a few of us get +ahead," said McKenna in a matter-of-fact way, but +for a moment Gunther seemed to perceive the faintest +trace of a smile, lurking maliciously in the +corners of his eyes.</span></p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> +</div> +<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> +<div class="backmatter"> +</div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 37113 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |