Lake St. Clair."
The road continued along the river bank, with no fences on the left
side. Although residences were fairly numerous, there was little
traffic on the highway. The car was running at a moderate pace when
the chauffeur suddenly diverted it towards the river, and with an
exceedingly narrow margin escaped tumbling down the bank.
"I say," murmured Stranleigh, "I don't like that you know."
"There's worse to come," said the chauffeur menacingly. "You will
promise to pay me a hundred thousand dollars, or I will dash you and the
car over the edge into the river. If you consider your life worth that
sum, speak quickly."
"Ah, it is you, Parkes? I hope you realise that you will dash yourself
over at the same time?"
"I know that, but I'm a desperate man. Just get that through your head."
"You are aware that a promise given under duress is not binding?"
"Stow talk!" roared Parkes. "Say 'yes' or 'no.'"
"I say 'No!'" replied Stranleigh, so quietly that the other was
unprepared for the prompt action which followed. Stranleigh flung his
arms around the man, and jerked him backward from his wheel. His
lordship was in good athletic condition; the ex-valet had looked too
much on the wine when it was red, and on the highball when it sparkled
in the glass. He felt helpless as a child.
"Now," said Stranleigh, "we will see who is the coward. I'll lay a wager
with you that this car tumbles off the bank before five minutes are
past."
Stranleigh with his heels was working the two outside pegs, and the car
acted as if it were drunker than a lord, and almost as drunk as the
valet.
"In God's name," cried the latter, "let me go. We shall be wrecked in a
moment."
"No, we won't."
"I implore you, Lord Stranleigh!"
"I'll save your life, but will give you a lesson against attempted
blackmail."
He steered to the edge of the bank, then pressed the middle peg, and
stopped the car. Rising and carrying Parkes with him, he hurled him
headlong over the slight earthy precipice into the water, which was
shallow at that point. Parkes arose spluttering, and found Stranleigh
had turned the car round, and with a smile on his face, was looking
down at his dripping victim.
"You'll suffer for this!" cried Parkes, shaking his fist at him. "We're
in a country, thank God, where we think very little of lords."
"Oh, I don't think much of lords myself, in any country," replied
Stranleigh suavely, "and even less of their valets, notwithstanding I've
a very good one myself. Now listen to my advice. I shall be in the
United States before you can reach a telephone, and I don't see how you
can get me back unless I wish to return. I advise you not to stir up the
police. The Duke of Rattleborough cabled to me that a certain section of
that useful body is anxious to hear of you. Call on Mr. Sterling, and
whatever he thinks is just compensation for your introduction I will
pay, but before you get the money, you must ensure both of us against
further molestation in any way."
Stranleigh drove up to the shop on Woodbridge Street, and listened to
the account Sterling gave of Parkes' visit and conversation, and his
explanation of how he had come to allow him to drive the car.
"That's quite all right and satisfactory," said his lordship. "I never
for a moment distrusted you. Still, I did get your name from Parkes, and
I owe him something for that. What do you think would be a fair payment
to make? I threw him into the river, but though it's clean, clear water,
I expect no reward."
"If you'll allow me to pay him the five hundred dollars you gave me
yesterday, I think the rogue will get much more than he deserves."
"Very good; I'll add another five hundred, but see that he signs some
legal promise not to molest us further. I'll capitalise your company to
the extent of any amount between a hundred thousand dollars and half a
million."
III.--THE GOD IN THE CAR.
Young Lord Stranleigh always proved a disappointment to a thorough-going
Radical, for he differed much from the conventional idea of what a
hereditary proud peer should be. He was not overbearing on the one hand,
nor condescending on the other, being essentially a shy, unassuming
person, easily silenced by any controversialist who uttered statements
of sufficient emphasis. He never seemed very sure about anything,
although undoubtedly he was a judge of well-fitting clothes, and the
tailoring of even the remoter parts of America rather pleased him.
One thing that met his somewhat mild disapproval was undue publicity. He
shrank from general notice, and tried to efface himself when reporters
got on his track. In order, then, to live the quiet and simple life,
his lordship modified a stratagem he had used on a previous occasion
with complete success. He arranged that the obedient but unwilling
Ponderby should enact the country gentleman of England, bent on
enlarging his mind, and rounding out his experiences by residence in
the United States. Ponderby wished to get back to the old country, but
was too well-trained to say so. Lord Stranleigh, under the humble
designation of Henry Johnson, set for himself the part of Ponderby's
chauffeur, a _role_ he was well fitted to fill, because of his love for
motoring, and his expertness in the art. He dressed the character to
perfection, being always particular in the matter of clothes, and was
quite admirable in raising his forefinger deferentially to the edge of
his cap, a salute whose effect Ponderby endangered by his unfortunate
habit of blushing.
Accustomed to self-suppression though he was, Ponderby could not
altogether conceal from Lord Stranleigh his dislike of the metamorphosis
that was proposed. He had been born a servant and brought up a servant,
with the result that he was a capable one, and posing as a gentleman was
little to his taste. Of course, he would do anything Lord Stranleigh
commanded, and that without consciously hinting disapproval, but the
earl shrank from giving a command as much as he would have disliked
receiving one. He was suave enough with the general public, but just a
little more so in dealing with those who depended on him.
"Did you ever visit the ancient village of Burford, Ponderby?" he asked
on this occasion.
"Burford in England, my lord?"
"Ponderby," pleaded Stranleigh, "kindly oblige me by omitting the
appellation."
"Burford in England, sir?"
"That's better," said the earl with a smile, "but we will omit the 'sir'
in future, also. I am a chauffeur, you know. Yes, I do mean Burford in
Oxfordshire, nestling cosily beside the brown river Windrush, a village
of very ancient houses."
"I have never been there." Ponderby swallowed the phrase "my lord" just
in time.
"Then you have not seen the priory of that place; the ruins of a
beautiful old English manor-house? It forms the background of a
well-known modern picture by Waller--'The Empty Saddle.' The estate was
purchased by Lenthall, Speaker of the House of Commons during the Long
Parliament. Kings have put up at the Priory, the last being William the
Third. Think of that, Ponderby! Royalty! I know how you will respect the
house on that account. One of Lenthall's descendants was served by an
ideal butler, who was happy, contented, well-paid; therefore, to all
outward appearances, satisfied. One day he fell heir to three thousand
pounds, which at present would be not quite fifteen thousand dollars,
but at that time was a good deal more. Against his master's protests, he
resigned his butlership.
"'I have always wished to live,' he confessed, 'at the rate of three
thousand a year; to live as a gentleman for that period. I will return
to you a year from to-day, and if you wish to engage me, I shall be
happy to re-enter your service.'
"He spent his long-coveted year and the three thousand pounds, returning
and taking up his old service again on the date he had set. Now,
Ponderby, there's a precedent for you, and I know how you love
precedents. Remembering this historical fact, I have placed in the bank
of Altonville fifteen thousand dollars to your credit. You cannot
return to old England just yet, but you may enjoy New England. Already
constituting myself your servant, I have taken a furnished house for
you, and all I ask in return is that I may officiate as your chauffeur.
I hope to make some interesting experiments with the modern American
automobile."
And so it was arranged. Lord Stranleigh at the wheel saw much of a
charming country; sometimes with Ponderby in the back seat, but more
often without him, for the inestimable valet was quite evidently
ill-at-ease through this change of their relative positions.
One balmy, beautiful day during the exceptionally mild Indian summer of
that year, Stranleigh left Altonville alone in his motor, and turned
into a road that led northward, ultimately reaching the mountains to be
seen dimly in the autumn haze far to the north. It was a favourite drive
of his, for it led along the uplands within sight of a group of crystal
lakes with well-wooded banks on the opposite shore. The district was
practically untouched by commerce, save that here and there along the
valley stood substantial mills, originally built to take advantage of
the water power from the brawling river connecting the lakes. Some
of these factories had been abandoned, and were slowly becoming as
picturesque as an old European castle. Others were still in going order,
and doubtless the valley had once been prosperous, but lagging behind
an age of tremendous progress, had lost step, as it were, with the
procession. Lack of adequate railway connection with the outside world
was the alleged cause, but the conservatism of the mill-owners, who, in
an age of combination, had struggled on individually to uphold the
gospel of letting well alone, a campaign that resulted in their being
left alone, had probably more to do with bringing about adversity than
the absence of railways. Some of the mills had been purchased by the
Trusts, and closed up. One or two still struggled on, hopelessly
battling for individualism and independence, everyone but themselves
recognising that the result was a foregone conclusion.
Yet for a man who wished to rest, and desired, like the old-fashioned
millers, to be left alone, this countryside was indeed charming. The
summer visitors had all departed, missing the sublimest time of the
year. Stranleigh had the road to himself, and there was no annoying
speed limit to hamper the energy of his machine. Without any thought of
his disconsolate valet moping about an unnecessarily large and
well-furnished house, the selfish young man breathed the exhilarating
air, and revelled in his freedom.
He passed a young couple, evidently lovers, standing on a grassy knoll,
gazing across a blue lake at the wooded banks on the other side,
seemingly at a fine old colonial mansion which stood in an opening of
the woods, with well-kept grounds sloping down to the water's edge.
A man driving a car enjoys small opportunity for admiring scenery and
architecture, so Stranleigh paid little regard to the view, but caught a
fleeting glimpse of a beautiful girl, in whose expression there appeared
a tinge of sadness which enhanced her loveliness; then he was past, with
the empty road before him. He fell into a reverie, a most dangerous
state of mind for a chauffeur, since a fall into a reverie on the part
of a driver may mean a fall into a ravine on the part of the machine.
The reverie, however, was interrupted by a shout, and then by another.
He slowed down, and looking back over his shoulder saw that the young
man was sprinting towards him at a record-breaking speed. Stranleigh
declutched his automobile, and applying the brakes came to a standstill.
The young man ran up breathlessly.
"You are the chauffeur of that Englishman in Altonville, are you not?"
he panted, breathing hard.
"Yes."
"Are you going to meet him, or anything of that sort?"
"No; I'm out for my own pleasure."
"I'll give you a dollar if you take my wife and me back to Altonville."
Stranleigh smiled.
"I'll go, my chief; I'm ready," he murmured. "It is not for your silver
bright, but for your winsome lady."
"My wife has sprained her ankle, and cannot walk," explained the young
man.
"I am sorry to hear that," replied Lord Stranleigh. "Get in, and we will
go back to her in a jiffy."
The young man sprang into the car, which the amateur chauffeur turned
very deftly, and in a few moments they drew up close to the grassy bank
where the girl was sitting. The young husband very tenderly lifted her
to the back seat, and the polite chauffeur, after again expressing his
regret at the accident, drove the car swiftly to Altonville, stopping at
the office of the only doctor.
The young man rang the bell, and before the door was opened, he had
carried the girl up the steps. Presently he returned, and found
Stranleigh still sitting in the chauffeur's seat, meditatively
contemplating the trafficless street. His late passenger thrust hand
in pocket, and drew forth a silver dollar.
"I am ever so much obliged," he said, "and am sorry to have detained you
so long."
"The detention was nothing. To be of assistance, however slight, is a
pleasure, marred only by the fact of the lady's misadventure. I hope to
hear that her injury is not serious, and then I shall be well repaid."
"You will not be repaid," returned the young man, with a slight frown on
his brow, "until you have accepted this dollar."
Stranleigh laughed gently.
"I told you at the beginning that I was not working for coin."
The young man came closer to the automobile.
"To tell the truth," he said earnestly, "I fear that now we are in
Altonville that pompous gentleman, your boss, may come along, and you
will get into trouble. Masters do not like their motors used for other
people's convenience."
"Don't worry about Mr. Ponderby. He is a very good-hearted person, and
his pomposity merely a mannerism. I am waiting to take madame and
yourself to your residence."
"It isn't much of a residence," laughed the young man rather grimly,
"only a couple of rooms and a small kitchen, and is less than a hundred
yards from this spot."
"Then I'll take you that hundred yards."
"I work in Fulmer's grist mill," explained the husband, "and business is
not very good, so I had the day off. This is a time of year when we
ought to be busy, but the trade is merely local. The huge concerns down
east, and further west, do practically all the grinding nowadays."
The door opened, and the doctor appeared at the top of the steps.
"It's all right, Mr. Challis," he said encouragingly. "Mrs. Challis must
stay indoors for a few days, and be careful to rest her foot. The cure
may be tedious, but not painful, thanks to prompt treatment."
Challis brought out his wife, and Stranleigh took them to the
two-storied frame house, of which they occupied part. When the young
man came out to thank the chauffeur, he found the street empty.
A week later, Stranleigh's passengers heard the purr of an automobile
outside the cottage. Challis opened the door in response to the
chauffeur's knock.
"Good morning," said Stranleigh, shaking hands cheerfully. "What a
lovely day! I am delighted to know that Mrs. Challis has completely
recovered. I did not care to trouble you with repeated calls, but the
doctor has been very kind, and has kept me informed of her progress. It
is with his permission that I come to offer you a spin in the car. I'll
take you anywhere you wish to go, and this invitation is extended with
the concurrence of Mr. Ponderby, so you may enjoy the run to the full.
My name's Johnson; not Jack, the celebrated, but Henry, the unknown."
Challis laughed.
"I'm delighted to meet you again," he said. "Come in and see my wife.
Her worry has been that she has never had the opportunity to thank you
for your former kindness. Yes; I shall be glad of a ride. I have been
too much in the house lately."
"Another day off, eh?"
"All days are off days now," growled Challis. "The grist mill has shut
down."
Mrs. Challis received the alleged Johnson with a graciousness that was
quite charming. She thanked him in a manner so winning that Stranleigh
sat there overcome with an attack of the shyness he had never been able
to shake off. He could not help noticing the subtle melancholy of her
beautiful face, a hint of which he had received in that brief first
glance as he passed in the automobile. He attributed it then to her
mishap, but now realised its cause was something deeper and more
permanent. He was astonished later to find her so resolute in refusing
his invitation. She wished her husband to go for a drive, but would not
avail herself of that pleasure. In vain Stranleigh urged the doctor's
dictum that it would be good for her especially as the day was so fine,
and she had endured a week of enforced idleness indoors.
"Some other day perhaps," she said, "but not now," and he speedily
recognised that her firmness was not to be shaken.
All her own powers of persuasiveness, however were turned upon her
husband.
"You must go, Jim," she insisted. "I have kept you a prisoner for a
week, and you need the fresh air much more than I do."
James Challis, protesting more and more faintly at last gave way,
and the two men drove off together while Mrs. Challis fluttered a
handkerchief from her window in adieu.
Challis had refused to sit in the back seat, and took his place beside
the chauffeur.
"Where shall we go?" asked the latter.
"Drive to the place where you found us," said his passenger, and there
they went. On the way thither, neither spoke, but at a sign from
Challis, Stranleigh stopped the car.
"You must not think," began the former, "that my wife did not wish to
come. I know from the expression of her eyes that she did. Her reason
for declining was one that I imagine any woman would consider adequate,
and any man the reverse."
"I am an exception so far as the men are concerned," said Stranleigh,
coming much nearer the truth than he suspected, "for I am sure that
whatever motive actuated Mrs. Challis, it was commendable and right."
"Thank you," responded the other. "I am with you there. It is all a
matter of clothes. My wife possesses no costume suitable for a motor
excursion."
"In that case," cried Stranleigh impulsively, "the defect is easily
remedied. I have saved a bit from the ample salary Mr. Ponderby allows
me, and if I may offer you----"
"I could not accept anything," interrupted Challis.
"Merely a temporary loan, until the grist mill begins operations."
Challis shook his head.
"That mill will never grind again with the water that is past, nor the
water that is to come. Fulmer has gone smash, and I could not accept a
loan that I do not see my way to repay. Nevertheless, I appreciate fully
the kindness of your offer, and if you don't mind, I will tell you how I
got myself entangled, for there is no use in concealing from you what
you must already have seen--that I am desperately poor, so much so that
I sometimes lose courage, and consider myself a failure, which is not a
pleasant state of mind to get into."
"Oh, I've often felt that way myself," said Stranleigh, "but nobody's a
failure unless he thinks he is. You strike me as a capable man. You have
youth and energy, and added to that, great good luck. I'm a believer in
luck myself."
This commendation did not chase the gloom from the face of Challis.
"You have knocked from under me," he said, "the one frail prop on which
I leaned. I have been excusing myself by blaming the run of horrid bad
luck I have encountered."
Stranleigh shook his head.
"You can't truthfully say that," he rejoined quietly, "while you have
had the supreme good fortune to enlist the affection of so clever and
charming a wife."
The gloom disappeared from Challis's countenance as the shadow of a
cloud at that moment flitted from the surface of the lake. He thrust
forth his hand, and there being no onlookers, Stranleigh grasped it.
"Shake!" cried Challis. "I'll never say 'ill-luck' again! I wish she
had come with us."
"So do I," agreed Stranleigh.
"I'd like her to have heard you talk."
"Oh, not for that reason. I'd like her to enjoy this scenery."
"Yes, and the deuce of it is, she practically owns the scene. Look at
that house across the lake."
"A mansion, I should call it."
"A mansion it is. That's where my wife came from. Think of my
selfishness in taking her from such a home to wretched rooms in a
cottage, and abject poverty."
"I prefer not to think of your selfishness, but rather of her nobility
in going. It revives in a cynical man like myself his former belief in
the genuine goodness of the world."
"It all came about in this way," continued Challis. "I graduated at a
technical college--engineering. I began work at the bottom of the
ladder, and started in to do my best, being ambitious. This was
appreciated, and I got on."
"In what line?" asked Stranleigh.
"In a line which at that time was somewhat experimental. The firm for
which I worked might be called a mechanical-medical association, or
perhaps 'surgical' would be a better term. We had no plant, no factory;
nothing but offices. We were advisers. I was sent here and there all
over the country, to mills that were not in a good state of health;
dividends falling off, business declining, competition too severe, and
what-not. I looked over the works, talked with managers and men, formed
conclusions, then sent a report to my firm containing details, and such
suggestions as I had to offer. My firm communicated with the proprietor
of the works accordingly, and collected its bill."
"That should be an interesting occupation," said Stranleigh, whose
attention was enlisted.
"It was. One day, I was sent up here to inspect the factory of Stanmore
Anson, a large stone structure which you could see from here were it not
concealed by that hill to the right. It has been in the Anson family for
three generations, and had earned a lot of money in its time, but is now
as old-fashioned as Noah's Ark. It was cruelly wasteful of human energy
and mechanical power. It should have had a set of turbines, instead of
the ancient, moss-grown, overshot waterwheels. The machinery was out of
date, and ill-placed. The material in course of manufacture had to go
upstairs and downstairs, all over the building, handled and re-handled,
backward and forward, instead of passing straight through the factory,
entering as raw material, and coming out the finished product.
I reported to my firm that the establishment needed a complete
overhauling; that it ought to have new machinery, but that if it
was compulsory to keep the old machines at work, they should be
entirely rearranged in accordance with the sketch I submitted, so that
unnecessary handling of the product might be avoided. I set down the
minimum expense that must be incurred, and also submitted an estimate
covering the cost of turbines and new machinery, which I admit was
large in the bulk, but really the most economical thing to do."
"I see. And the old man objected to the expense, or perhaps had not the
necessary capital to carry out your suggestion? What sort of a person
is he? Unreasonable, I suppose you consider him?"
"Strangely enough, I never met him in my life."
"And you married his daughter?"
"Had to. I was determined to take the girl away, whether I reformed
the factory or not, and here you see where good luck and the reverse
mingled. When I arrived at Mr. Anson's factory, the old man was in New
York, for the purpose, as I learned, of raising a loan, or of selling
the property, neither of which projects was he able to carry out."
"That was his misfortune, rather than his fault, wasn't it?"
"In a way, yes; still, the Trust had offered him a reasonable figure for
his factory. He not only refused, but he fought the Trust tooth and
nail, thinking that with low taxation, and country wages, he could meet
the competition, which, of course, with the factory in its present
state, he could not do. The fact that he was up against the Trust became
well known, so that he could neither borrow nor sell. While in New York,
he called several times on Langdon, Bliss, and Co., the firm that
employed me. When my report came in and was read to him, I understand he
fell into a tremendous rage, and characterised our company as a body of
swindlers. Mr. Langdon ordered him out of the office.