heart, I went to work on my Tipps case with fury.
When I applied at the offices of the P. D. & B. D. and asked to be shown
the books of the old company which had been reorganized and absorbed, I
was met first by the polite assurance that there never was such a road
as I mentioned, then that it had been wound up long ago and reorganized.
Next, as I appeared somewhat firm, I was informed that the books had
been burned up in a great fire, spoken of as Caleb Balderstone used to
speak of the Ravenswood fire, as "the fire." This would have been an
irremediable loss, but for the fact that I knew that there had been no
fire since the reorganization of the company. I stated this fact with
more positiveness than was usually employed in those offices and
announced that unless those books were produced without further delay or
misrepresentation, I would file a bill at once which would open the eyes
of a number of persons. This procured for me an interview with an
official of the vice-presidential rank--my first real advance. This
proved to be my old acquaintance, Mr. Gillis, the agent of the Argand
Estate. When I entered he wore an expression of sweet content as of a
cat about to swallow a mouse. It was evident that he meant to have his
revenge on me now. After stating my object in calling, with so much
circumstantiality that there could be no mistake about it, I was
informed by Mr. Gillis, briefly but firmly, that those books were not
accessible, that they were "private property and not open to the
public."
Stillman Gillis was a wiry, clear-eyed, firm-mouthed, middle-sized man
of about middle age as older men regard it. He had a pleasant address,
perfect self-assurance, and a certain cool impudence in his manner which
I have often observed in the high officials of large corporations. He
had, I knew, been the private secretary and confidential man of Mr.
David Argand.
"I am aware that the books are private property," I said, "but it
happens that I am myself one of the owners--I represent two very
considerable owners of the stock of the old company."
He shook his head pleasantly. "That makes no difference."
I could not help thinking of the turnkey at the jail. It was insolence,
but only of a different sort.
"You mean to say that it makes no difference whether or not I am a
stockholder when I demand to see the books of the company in which I
hold my interest?"
"Not the slightest," he admitted.
"I suppose you have consulted counsel as to this?"
"Oh! yes; but it was not necessary."
"Well! you have the books?"
"Oh! yes."
"Because some of your people told me that they had been burnt up in a
fire."
"Did they tell you that?" he smilingly asked. "They did that to save you
trouble."
"Considerate in them."
"Of course, we have the books--in our vaults."
"Buried?" I hazarded.
He nodded. "Beyond the hope of resurrection." He took up his pen to show
that the interview was ended; and I took up my hat.
"Do you mind telling me who your counsel is that you consulted in these
matters? I might prevail on him to change his mind."
"Oh! no. Mr. Collis McSheen is our counsel--one of them."
"Has he specifically given you this advice?"
"He has." He turned to his stenographer. "Take this letter."
"So--o." I reflected a moment and then tilted back my chair.
"Mr. Gillis--one moment more of your valuable time, and I will relieve
you."
"Well?" He turned back to me with a sudden spark in his gray eye.
"Really, I have no more time to give you."
"Just a moment. You are mistaken in thinking you are giving me time. I
have been giving you time. The next time we meet, you will be a witness
in court under subp[oe]na and I will examine you."
"Examine me? As to what, pray?" His face had grown suddenly dark and
his insolence had turned to anger.
"As to what you know of the fraud that was perpetrated on the heirs of a
certain Colonel Tipps who built and once largely owned the road I have
spoken of."
"Fraud, sir! What do you mean?"
"As to what you know--if anything--of the arrangement by which a certain
Collis McSheen sold out his clients, the said heirs of the said Colonel
Tipps, to a certain Mr. Argand, whose private secretary you then were;
and whose retained counsel he then became."
"What!"
His affected coolness was all gone. His countenance was black with a
storm of passion, where wonder, astonishment, rage, all played their
part, and I thought I saw a trace of dismay as well.
"What do you mean, sir! What do I know of the--the fraud--the
arrangements, if there ever were any such arrangements as those you
speak of?"
I was the insolent one now. I bowed.
"That is what I am going to ask you to tell in court. You have the
books, and you will bring them with you when you come, under a
_subp[oe]na duces tecum_. Good-day." I walked out.
As I approached my office, I saw Collis McSheen bolting out of the door
and down the street, his face as black as a thunder-cloud. He was in
such a hurry that he did not see me, though he nearly ran over me. He
had evidently been summoned by telephone.
I was working on my bill a few days later when to my surprise Peck
walked into my office. I knew instantly that there was mischief afoot.
He looked unusually smug. He had just arrived that morning, he said. Mr.
Poole had some important interests in a railway property which required
looking after, and he had come on to see about them. There was not much
to do, as the road was being capitally managed; but they thought best to
have some one on the ground to keep an eye on the property, and
remembering our old friendship, he had suggested that I be retained to
represent Mr. Poole, if anything should at any time arise, and Mr. Poole
had, of course, acted on his advice. Mr. Poole had in fact, always been
such a friend of mine, etc. The trouble with Peck was that he always
played a trump even when it was not necessary.
I expressed my sense of obligation to both him and Mr. Poole, but in my
heart could not help recalling the chances Mr. Poole had thrown away to
help me in the past.
"What sort of interests are they?" I inquired.
"Railway interests. He has both stocks and bonds--second mortgage bonds.
But they are as good as gold--pay dividends straight along. The railway
has never failed to increase its net earnings every year for ten years,
and is a very important link in a transcontinental line."
"What railway did you say it was?" I inquired, for I had observed that
he had not mentioned the line.
"Oh! ah! the P. D. & B. D."
"Oh! Well, the fact is, Peck, I don't know that I could represent Mr.
Poole in any litigation connected with that road."
"Oh! it is not litigation, my dear fellow. You'd as well talk about
litigation over the Bank of England. It is to represent him as a sort of
regular----"
"I know," I cut him short, "but I think there will be some litigation.
The fact is, I have a claim against that road."
"A claim against the P. D. & B. D.! For damages, I suppose?"
"No. To upset the reorganization that took place----"
Peck burst out laughing. "To upset the reorganization of that road which
took place ten--twenty--How many years ago was it? You'd better try to
upset the government of the United States."
"Oh! No----"
"Come now. Don't be Quixotic. I've come here to give you a good case
that may be the beginning of a great practice for you. Why you may
become general counsel."
"I thought Mr. McSheen was general counsel? You said so, I remember,
when you were here before."
"Why, ah! yes. He is in a way. You would, of course, be--in a way,
his--ah----"
"Peck," I said, and I kept my eye on him blandly. "Have you seen Mr.
McSheen since your arrival?"
"Why, yes, I have. I had to see him, of course, because he is, as I told
you, the general counsel----"
"In a way?" I interpolated.
"Yes. And of course I had to see him. It would not have been quite
professional if I had not."
"And he assents to your proposition?"
"Oh! yes, entirely. In fact, he--" He paused and then added, "is
entirely satisfied. He says you are an excellent lawyer."
"Much obliged to him. I beat him in the only case I ever had against
him."
"What was that?"
"Oh, a small case against the Argand Estate."
"Oh! Well now, Glave, don't be Quixotic. Here is the chance of your
life. All the big people--the Argand Estate, Mr. Leigh, Mr. McSheen, Mr.
Canter. Why, it may lead you--no one can tell where!"
"That is true," I said, quietly. Then quite as quietly I asked: "Did Mr.
McSheen send for you to come on here?"
"Did Mr. McSheen send for me to come on here? Why, no. Of course, he did
not. I came on to look after Mr. Poole's interest."
"And to employ me to represent him?"
"Yes."
"And to give up my clients as McSheen did?"
"What!"
"Peck, tell Mr. McSheen that neither my dog nor myself is for sale."
"What! I--I don't understand," stammered Peck.
"Well, maybe so. But you give McSheen the message. He will understand
it. And now I will explain it to you, so you may understand." I
explained briefly to him my connection with the matter and my proposed
line of action; and he naturally endeavored to satisfy me as to the
absolute futility of such a course as I proposed.
"Why, consider," he said, "the people you will have to contend with--the
idea that you can prove fraud against such persons as Mr. Leigh, the
Argands, Mr. McSheen."
"I don't expect to prove fraud on Mr. Leigh," I quickly interposed.
"You will have to sue him. He is a director."
"I know it. But he came in after the transaction was completed and I
believe knew nothing about it, and he has left the directory. But why
are you so interested in Mr. Leigh? His interests in the street-car
lines are directly opposed to Mr. Poole's."
"I am not interested in Mr. Leigh, but in you. Why, do you imagine any
judge in this city would even consider a bill charging fraud against
such persons as those I have mentioned? For I tell you they will not.
You will just make a lot of enemies and have your trouble for your
pains."
"Perhaps so--but Peck, you have not mentioned all the people I shall
have to sue."
"Who do you mean? I have only mentioned one or two."
"Mr. Poole."
Peck's countenance fell.
"Mr. Poole! What did he have to do with it?"
"He was one of them--one of those who engineered the reorganization--and
swin--engineered the heirs of Colonel Tipps and some others out of their
interest. Well, give my message to Mr. McSheen," I said, rising, for
Peck's duplicity came over me like a wave. "You may understand it better
now. Neither my dog nor I is for sale. Peck, you ought to know me
better."
Peck left with that look on his face that used to annoy me so at
college--something that I can best describe as a mechanical simper. It
had no warmth in it and was the twilight between indifference and hate.
Peck evidently conveyed my message.
While I worked on my case, Mr. McSheen was not idle. Not long after, I
was walking along a narrow, dark street on my way home from my office
late one night when I was struck by Dix's conduct. It was very strange.
Instead of trotting along zigzag going from corner to corner and
inspecting alleyways for chance cats to enliven life, as he usually did
at night when the streets were fairly empty, he kept close at my heels,
now and then actually rubbing against my knee as he walked, as he did in
the crowded section when I took him along. And once or twice he stopped
and, half turning his head, gave a low, deep growl, a sure signal of his
rising anger. I turned and gazed around, but seeing no cause for his
wrath, concluded that a dog was somewhere in the neighborhood, whom he
detected though I could not see him. I was aware afterward that I had
seen two men pass on the other side of the street and that they crossed
over to my side near the corner ahead of me; but I took no notice of
them. I had a pleasanter subject of thought as I strolled along. I was
thinking of Eleanor Leigh and building air castles in which she was
always the chatelaine.
Dix's low growl fell on my ear, but I paid no heed. The next second--it
was always a little confused in my mind, the blow came so quickly--I was
conscious of a man--or two men, springing from behind something just at
my side and of Dix's launching himself at them with a burst of rage, and
at the same moment, something happened to me--I did not know what. A
myriad stars darted before my eyes and I felt a violent pain in my
shoulder. I staggered and fell to my knees; but sprang up again under a
feeling that I must help Dix, who seemed to have been seized by one of
the men in his arms, a stout stumpy fellow, while the other was
attempting to kill him with a bludgeon which he carried. I flung myself
on the latter, and seizing him by the throat bore him back against the
wall, when he suddenly twisted loose and took to his heels. Then I
turned on the other who, I thought, was trying to carry Dix off. I
found, however, that instead he was making a fight for his life. At the
moment he dropped a pistol which he was drawing and I sprang for it and
got it. Dix had leaped straight for his throat and, having made good his
hold, had hung on and the man was already nearly strangled. "For God's
sake, take him off. Kill him. I'm choking," he gasped as with weakening
hands he tore at the dog's massive shoulders. "I'm choking." And at
that moment he staggered, stumbled, and sank to his knees with a groan.
Fearing that he would be killed on the spot, though I was sick and dizzy
from the blow, I seized Dix by the throat and with a strong wrench of
his windpipe at the same time that I gave him an order, I broke his
hold. And fortunately for the ruffian, his heavy coat collar had
partially saved his throat.
The wretch staggered to his feet with an oath and supported himself
against the wall while I pacified Dix, who was licking his chops, his
hair still up on his back, his eyes still on his enemy.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, for, though still dizzy, the need to act had
brought my senses back.
"What business is that of yours?" he demanded brutally. "Wait a minute.
I'll kill that d----d dog."
The reply to my inquiry was so brutal that my anger rose.
"You drunken beast! Say a word and I'll give you to him again and let
him worry you like a rat. You see him! Keep back, Dix!" for the dog,
recognizing my anger, had advanced a little and flattened himself to
spring on the least provocation.
"I didn't mean no offence," the fellow growled. "But I don't like a
d----d dog to be jumpin' at me."
"You don't! What did you mean by trying to murder me?"
"I didn't try to murder you."
"You did. I have no money--not a cent. I'm as poor as you are."
"I wa'n't after no money."
"What then? What had I ever done to you that you should be after me?"
"I wa'n't after you."
"You were. You tried to kill me. You've cut my head open and no thanks
to you that you didn't kill me."
"'T wa'n't me. 'T was that other fellow, the skunk that runned away and
left me."
"What's his name?"
"I don' know. I never seen him before."
"What are you lying to me for? What's his name and why was he after me?
Tell me and I'll let you go--otherwise--I'll give you to the police."
"I'll tell you this--he's a friend of a man you know."
"Of a man I know? Who?"
"He's a big man, too."
"A big man! Do you mean--You don't mean Coll McSheen?"
"I didn't tell you, did I? You can swear to that. Now give me five
dollars and let me go."
"I haven't any money at all, but I'll take you to a doctor and get your
wound dressed. I have to go to one, too."
"I don' want no doctor--I'm all right."
"No, I won't give you up," I said, "if you'll tell me the truth. I'm not
after you. If I'd wanted to give you up, I'd have fired this pistol and
brought the police. Come on. But don't try to run off or I'll let you
have it."
He came along, at first surlily enough; but presently he appeared to get
in a better temper, at least with me, and turned his abuse on his pal
for deserting him. He declared that he had not meant to do me any harm,
in fact, that he had only met the other man accidentally and did not
know what he was going to do, etc.
I was so fortunate as to find my friend Dr. Traumer at home, and he
looked after the wound in the scoundrel's throat and then took a look at
my hurt.
"You had a close graze," he said, "but I don't think it is anything more
serious than a bad scrape on your head, and a laceration and bruise on
the shoulder."
While he was working on the footpad I telephoned Langton, got hold of
him and asked him to come there, which he said he would do at once. Just
as the doctor was through with me, Langton walked in. I never saw so
surprised an expression on his face as that when his eyes fell on my
thug. I saw at once that he knew him. But as usual he said nothing. The
thug, too, evidently knew he was an officer; for he gave me one swift
glance of fear. I, however, allayed his suspicion.
"It's all right," I said, "if you tell me the truth. Who is he?" I asked
Langton. He smiled.
"Red Talman. What've you been up to?" he asked.
"Nothin'."
"I brought him here to have his wound dressed, and he's going directly.
I have promised him."
He nodded.
"Coll McSheen put him on to a little job and he bungled it, that's
all."
Langton actually looked pleased; but I could not tell whether it was
because his warning had been verified or because I had escaped.
"'T was that other skunk," muttered Talman sullenly.
"Who? Dutch?"
The footpad coughed. "Don' know who 'twas."
"You don't? You don't know who I am either?"
The man gave him a keen look of inspection, but he evidently did not
know him. Langton leaned over and dropped his voice. "Did you ever
know--?" I could not catch the name. But the thug's eyes popped and he
turned white under his dirt.
"I didn't have nothin' 't all to do with it. I was in Canady," he
faltered.
Langton's eyes suddenly snapped. "I know where you were. This
gentleman's a friend of mine," he said. "He saved my life once, and if
you ever touch him, I'll have you--" He made a gesture with his hand to
his throat. "Understand? And not all the bosses in the city will save
you. Understand?"
"I ain't goin' to touch him. I got nothin' against him."
"You'd better not have," said Langton, implacably. "Come here." He took
him out into the doctor's front office and talked to him for some little
time while I told the doctor of my adventure.
"Who is Langton when he is at home?" I asked him.
He chuckled. "He is the best man for you to have in this city if Coll
McSheen is your enemy. He is a retainer of Mr. Leigh's."
Just then Langton and the thug came in.
"Say, I'm sorry I took a hand in that job," said the latter. "But that
skunk that runned away, he put 't up, and he said 's another friend of
his got him to do it."
"Coll McSheen?"
"I don't know who 'twas," he persisted.
I glanced at Langton, and he just nodded.
"Good-by. If ever you wants a job done----"
"Get out," said Langton.
"Don't you give 't to that other skunk. I didn't know. Good-by. Obliged
to you." And he passed through the door which Langton held open for him.
"It's all right," said the latter as he closed the door. "You had a
close graze--that's one of the worst criminals in the country. He don't
generally bungle a job. But he's all right now. But there are others."
"My dog saved my life--he got his throat."
"That's a good dog. Better keep him close to you for a while."
XXVII
THE SHADOW
A great factory with the machinery all working and revolving with
absolute and rhythmic regularity and with the men all driven by one
impulse and moving in unison as though a constituent part of the mighty
machine, is one of the most inspiring examples of directed force that
the world shows. I have rarely seen the face of a mechanic in the act of
creation which was not fine, never one which was not earnest and
impressive.
Such were the men, some hundreds of them, whom I used to gaze at and
admire and envy through the open windows of several great factories and
mills along the street through which lay my way to my office. I chose
this street for the pleasure of seeing them of a morning, as with bared
and brawny arms and chests and shining brows, eager and earnest and
bold, they bent over glowing fires and flaming furnaces and rolled
massive red-hot irons hither and yon, tossing them about, guiding them
in their rush and swing and whirl, as though they were very sons of
Vulcan, and ever with a catch of song or a jest, though a swerve of the
fraction of an inch might mean death itself.
I had come to know some of them well, that is, as well as a man in a
good coat can know men in a workman's blouse, and numbers of them I
began to know in a sort, as day after day I fell in beside them on
their way to or from their work; for, lawyer and gentleman as I was,
they, I think, felt in me the universal touch of brotherhood. We used to
talk together, and I found them human to the core and most intelligent.
Wolffert was an idol among them. They looked to him as to a champion.
"He has learned," said one of them to me once, "the secret of getting at
us. He takes us man for man and don't herd us like cattle. He speaks to
me on a level, man to man, and don't patronize me."
He was a strong-visaged, clear-eyed Teuton with a foreign accent.
"We haf our own home," he said with pride, "and the building company is
'most off my back. If we can but keep at vork we'll soon be safe, and
the young ones are all at school. The sun shines bright after the
storm," he added with a shake of his strong head.
"Ah, well, we are having good times now. The sun is shining for many of
us. Let us pray that it may keep shining."
"God grant it," he said, solemnly.
I was thinking of Miss Eleanor Leigh and the way she had smiled the last
time Heaven had favored me with a sight of her. That was sunshine enough
for me. She had heard of the attack on me and had been so sympathetic
that I had almost courted her again on the spot. John Marvel had made me
out quite a hero.
The good times, however, of which my mill-friends and I talked were
rapidly passing. In Coll McSheen's offices plans were being laid which
were to blot out the sun for many a poor family.
Within a day or two I began to observe in the press ominous notices of
an approaching strike. All the signs, it was declared, pointed to it.
Meetings were being held, and the men were rapidly getting out of hand
of their conservative leaders, who, it being on the verge of winter,
were averse to their undertaking the strike at this time,
notwithstanding what they admitted were their undoubted and
long-standing grievances. As I ran over the accounts in many of the
papers I was surprised to find that among these "conservatives" was
mentioned the name of Wringman. It was evident, however, that the
efforts of the conservative element were meeting with success; for in
the workingmen's section through which I passed every day there was not
as yet the least sign of excitement of any kind, or, indeed, of any
dissatisfaction. The railway men all appeared quiet and contented, and
the force in the several large factories along my route whom I mingled
with in my tramp back and forth from my office were not only free from
moroseness, but were easy and happy. The only strikes going on in the
city were those on the lines in which the Argand interests were, and
they were frequently spoken of as "chronic."
The mills were all running as usual; work was going on; but a shadow was
deepening over the community of the operatives. The strike which the
newspapers had been prophesying for some time was decreed--not yet,
indeed, by the proper authorities; but it was determined on by the
leaders, and its shadow was darkening the entire section. The first
knowledge I had of it was the gloom that appeared on the countenances of
the men I saw in the morning. And when I met Wolffert he was more
downcast than I had seen him in a long time. He had been working night
and day to stave off the trouble.
"The poor fools!" was all he could say. "They are the victims of their
ignorance."