IT WAS ALL WEBB'S FAULT.
It was a day or two before Ralph's nerves recovered their tone. It
mortified him to discover that such things formed part of his internal
economy, for he had supposed himself to resemble the strong and
successful men of history and finance, who march straight forward to
their purpose, looking neither behind nor to either side, careless
alike of the downtrodden and the overthrown who mark their onward
path, conquering and to conquer. It was a day or two before he calmed
down, or, as his wife expressed it, "got over that little turn, which,
now it was over, she was free to confess, had made her feel real
anxious." The cares of business had been too much, she thought, and
she was sure he wanted a change. "Why would he not take her for a few
weeks to the sea; or to the White Mountains she was so fond of? Why
keep a dog and be always barking himself? Had he not made Gerald a
partner? Then why not leave him in charge of the business? She was
sure her boy, with his inherited smartness and fine education, could
manage very well for a week or two; and at the worst there was always
the telegraph, and he could recall his father if he found the
responsibility too much for him. Is he not a fine young man, Ralph?
Own up for once, though he is your own son."
"Yes, my dear, certainly!--Very fine indeed, and very nice--and a good
lad to boot; but he knows no more of my business than you do, and I do
not wish that he ever should."
Martha sighed. She had her misgivings that there were depths and
recesses in her husband's thoughts and his affairs, which she had
never sounded or peered into, and which might yield up skeletons and
unwelcome truths to an over-inquisitive search. She had never
attempted to know more than was disclosed, therein manifesting her
wisdom. "Why should she, indeed?" as she asked herself. Ralph had
always been kind; once upon a time, at least, he had been more, he had
been really fond of her; and, for herself, she knew that she still
loved him very dearly, and therefore it was wisdom to keep disturbing
considerations out of sight. It is so always. There is much in life to
make the moral perceptions jar. Good and evil are linked in such close
relations--concurrent streams which occupy one channel amicably, and
with mutual convenience, but without mingling--the wheat and tares
growing up together, and both contributing to the luxuriance of the
scene, however the strictly moral eye may disapprove. Still, Martha
had her misgivings; or rather, if she would have heeded them, her
intuitions. They started from the most trivial grounds, an inadvertent
phrase, a laugh, or even a shrug of scorn, at something good or noble,
which betrayed that there were things, and not so far either from the
gates of speech, which, if they came forth, would raise a barrier
between them which could never be pulled down; and so, as the guardian
of her own happiness and peace, she resolutely turned her observation
the other way, rather than see what it would cost her far too dear to
know, as leading to an alienation worse than widowhood; for there
could be mingled with it no tender regret, no hope, or even wish for
reunion.
"Then is Gerald to have no holidays this year?" said Martha, by way of
resuming the talk. "If you will not go away yourself you may surely
send _him_."
"I don't think he wants to travel farther
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[Pages 86-87 missing.]
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was finished. No, sir-ree! Not if I know it."
"But, my dear fellow, I really do not know whom you are talking about.
I assure you. I have not seen or heard of him since the other evening
when we called on him together."
"Who _has_ seen him since then, I should like to know? But it is clear
you know well enough what I'm driving at. Now, tell me, for we have
little time to act in, have you taken any steps towards getting hold
of his papers yet?"
"What steps would you wish me to take? or rather, what steps would be
possible? Podevin--his host, remember, and the man has no one
belonging to him, or more nearly interested in him, in this
country--thinks he must have gone to New York by the early train the
other morning; that he went straight from his room to the station
without going into the hotel. You see the train stops for breakfast at
that small station, fifty miles down the line. So he is no way
disturbed at his guest's absence, who has taken his room for the
season, and goes and comes as he likes."
"But the man is drowned! I saw him sink with my own eyes."
"If you will report that to the authorities, it will both simplify and
hasten matters. Only the first question which they will ask is sure to
be why you waited so many days before saying a word. The heat, no
doubt, may be made to account for a good deal, but you had better have
medical advice before committing yourself."
"But there is the boat. He undressed in the boat. That will tell the
whole story. One of Podevin's boats, too."
"Ha! Yes; I think I remember, now you mention it, Randolph's telling
us at dinner, yesterday, that Podevin's boat-house had been broken
open and a boat carried off--yes, and the boat was picked up far down
the river, and brought back all safe. And the old man has been
fretting himself to make out which of his servants could have given
it, for he is sure the boat-house has been opened from the inside. Not
a word about clothes, though, and you see there is no anxiety whatever
about his disappearance. We must wait. The body may be found."
"But I am going off--off to the White Mountains with my wife, for the
rest of the warm weather, and there is no saying when I shall get
back."
"No; I suppose not."
"And I want to take those securities, or whatever they are--you don't
seem to know yourself? a pretty trustee!--along with me. Can I depend
on you to send them after me?"
"_You_ should know. Would you do it yourself?" and Jordan, braced into
self-assertion by the overbearing tone of the other, looked defiantly
in his face. "In a year and ten months from now your son will have a
right to dictate, if, as Considine phrased it the other evening, he
shall then prove to be the heir. In the meantime, I am accountable
only to my fellow-trustee, and if he does not call me to account I
know of no one else in the position to do so. At the same time, your
assistance in unloading my copper shares might be of vast benefit to
me, and I am willing to pay for that, and pay handsomely, though it is
idle to discuss at present what I may see my way to doing if ever I
become sole trustee."
Ralph turned away with a shrug to buy his morning newspaper. "Brag is
a good dog, but Hold-fast is a better," was all he said to himself as
he seated himself in the railway carriage, and began to look over the
news. It was a truism he had long been familiar with, but one which
came pleasanter when he happened to own Hold-fast, instead of poor
Brag. However, one must fight the dog he happens to have, there are
chances, always, only one need not lament when what might have been
expected comes to pass. It did seem to him, however, that he had very
needlessly befouled himself with crime; he was going to make nothing
out of it, that was pretty clear, and, as he cynically expressed it,
the devil was picking him up a bargain, dirt cheap. His hide,
however--his moral hide, that is--was tough and callous, and he
congratulated himself on the circumstance. So long as the "untoward
incident" was not known, it should not interfere with his appetite or
his spirits. Already he had become accustomed to that ugly word
"murderer" in his mind; it was bearable he found, so long as it
carried no external mark; though he regretted it, undoubtedly, now
that it had turned out so utterly useless. As there was every prospect
of its never being known, he would survive it well enough, he felt;
but he would take precious good care next time that there should be no
mistake about the _quid pro quo_, before again running the risk of so
many ugly possibilities.
He reached town busied with these reflections, and hurried to his
office, where he soon was deep in the correspondence of the days he
had been absent, with Stinson behind his chair contributing condensed
verbal information by way of commentary as he went along.
"Yes, Stinson, you'll do," he said, when he had laid down the last
letter. "You've been a good clerk, and an apt pupil. You have
feathered your nest nicely, I make no doubt, and when the house goes
up, as it must, in three weeks at the outside--I think I can keep it
standing till then--you will be in a good position, no one better, to
start for yourself; and, with what I have taught you, to make your
fortune right off. You will be able to start at once, I say, but if
you take the advice of an old friend--who has not been a bad friend to
you either, though I say it--you will wait on here and wind up the
business. The creditors will be only too glad to have you. In fact,
there is no one else who ever will unravel things. You will, and can,
make your own terms with them, I doubt not; and the only favour I have
to ask of you is that you will do what you can to let that boy Gerald
down easy, and get him his discharge as soon as possible. It is well
for him now, that he should have been so unfit for business--financial
business, I mean, or rather, perhaps, our special application
of the science of finance. He would have done well in some steady,
old-fashioned, respectable concern, I make no doubt, for he is not a
fool; but he wants enterprise, vim, go, and he has too many scruples
for a rising man. His mother, good woman, has spoiled his prospects
for life in this walk; but, as he will probably be independent,
perhaps it is best so. There's nothing like high-souled honour to keep
a man's head up in the world--when he can afford it, that is--I never
could, not till after my road was chosen, at least, when it would have
been too late; so broad views in economics and morals were the only
ones for me, and I fancy some of my admirers will find them to have
been even broader than they thought, after I have cleared out, and
they find their money scattered past picking up again. But this is
digression, Stinson; never mind _me_, only keep the boy's name clean.
It would break his spirit and kill his mother--the truest woman
alive--if any reproach fell on him. Fling everything on me, I shall
have so much to carry that a trifle more or less will make no matter.
And, after all, when Pikes Peak and Montana comes up to par, I shall
be back again with a pocketful of money big enough to make them all
keep quiet. If anybody strong enough to carry on a lawsuit for years
has a colourable claim, I can settle with him out of court; and as for
the small fry, I shall snap my fingers at them, and they will think me
a finer fellow than ever for being able to over-ride them. They're
like dogs, they reverence the man who can hide them soundly. But I
talk discursively this morning. Eh, Stinson? I hope you will
impress upon the lad, what, indeed, is the fact, and what the books
of the firm show conclusively, and that is, that the _firm_ is
solvent--almost, that is; ninety-eight cents to the dollar they show,
and there would be a surplus, if the firm's funds had not been
diverted to my private operations, with which he has no concern, and
which it would be casting a reflection on me for him now to touch.
There is the Bank, the Copper Company, and the St. Lawrence and
Hudson's Bay, in which he has absolutely no interest whatever. If the
creditors of these come to him with representations, and claims of
honour--I know how they will put it--asking him to promise a payment
out of my uncle's fortune when he gets it, tell him from me, that I
expect him as a good son to close his ears to every slanderous story,
and to have nothing to do with those who tell it, and never to admit
the possibility of such claims having a foundation, by attempting to
settle them. It will not surprise me much if that inheritance of his
turns out to be no great thing after all. It has not been in the most
judicious keeping, and----But see, who is that at the door. Tell him,
whoever he is, I am engaged, and can't see him. There are several
drawers full of papers in the safe--the accumulation of years--I shall
need your memory to help me, perhaps. We will tackle them to-day in
case of accidents."
"Engaged most particularly," cried Stinson, unbolting the door and
holding it ajar. "Can see nobody, Mr. Jordan. Indeed, sir--you cannot
come in--no, indeed!"
"Stand back, you fool. Don't I tell you I must?" and Jordan, looking
red and white in patches, hot and cold at once, his hat on his head
askew, and his waistcoat torn open, struggled in, pushing Stinson
aside, closing the door again, and locking it himself.
"See here! Herkimer. Have _you_ been served with this?--I have got one
as solicitor, but you as president should be served also, and so
should each individual director, I hold, and I mean to push the point
as to their being served individually; but there can be no question
about the necessity of serving the president."
"What is it? Let me see. Hm! Webb v. St. Euphrase Mining Association.
Motion to show cause--pay dividend. Don't know, I'm sure. It may be
in the outer office. Have been busy this morning--let nobody in but
you--and that was only because Stinson failed to keep you out. Ask in
the office as you go out, they will tell you--if you think it of
consequence."
"Consequence? If they have not served you I can certainly get the
hearing postponed, and secure time to unload."
"Time to unload? Who wants to unload? _I_ don't. I unloaded long ago."
"But _I_ do."
"And pray, Mr. Jordan, what of that? _You_ are not a director of this
company--only the solicitor, its paid professional adviser. Send in
your bill, it will be filed with the rest of the claims, and rank as
the law prescribes when we go into liquidation."
"Good God! Ralph. It will ruin me!" Jordan had grown all white now,
and beads of moisture were standing on his forehead. "We _must_ stave
off this argument in court. The shares will be unsaleable at a cent in
the dollar. As it is, my brokers have been able to get off none for
three days back--some inkling of this, no doubt. But if I can stave
off the argument in court for a fortnight, there will be time for us
to circulate encouraging rumours."
"_Us?_ What have I to do with it? I will have no hand in circulating
false reports. Understand that clearly, Mr. Jordan. I wonder what I
can have done"--turning to Stinson, who stood by the door enjoying the
comedy--"to give any one the right to approach me with such a
proposal," and he blew his nose loudly, grinning the while under cover
of his pocket-handkerchief.
"Do you want to ruin me, Herkimer? I have all the shares I ever took
up still on my hands, not only those I subscribed for, but all
Rouget's, and I was to have given him up his mortgage in payment of
them; but I had already realized that, and bought more of your
infernal shares with the money; and now, the fat's in the fire! If I
can't unload I am a ruined and a dishonoured man. Everything I have
will go, and then the Law Society will come down on me for
irregularities, when I have lost the ability to square the benchers,
and I shall be disbarred. Ralph!" and he clasped his hands, "I shall
be ruined if you do not help me at this pinch. You must!"
"I don't seem to see it. I fear it is impossible. Unfortunate, of
course; but just what happens constantly, when a man leaves the groove
of his own profession, and ventures into fields of enterprise he does
not understand, and has no experience in. You lawyers are so very
superior to the rest of us. You go into court and talk so glibly of
our affairs, and so much more knowingly than we can do ourselves, that
by-and-by you persuade yourselves that you really understand them.
Then you try a hand at them yourselves, and then you cut your fingers.
It is droll, my dear fellow. Forgive my saying so, but as a man of the
world you must see it yourself; and if only it had been some one else
you would have appreciated the humour of the situation thoroughly."
"Keep your jesting, Mr. Herkimer, for a more seemly opportunity,"
cried Jordan, rallying into something like manhood under the sting of
the other's gibes. "It will prove no very amusing jest for yourself if
I am ruined. Your son's inheritance is involved with my fortune, and
both must sink or swim together. Remember that! I have something in
_my_ power, too, so beware!"
"I know. You seem to have forgotten our conversation this morning very
quickly. You then defined your position with a frankness which left
nothing more to say. You made it perfectly clear that you would never
leave hold on my uncle's fortune till we compelled you, and we cannot
do that at present. If you saved your money at the present pinch, you
would lose it again next opportunity; or, at least, you would make
sure that we should not get at it. No! Mr. Jordan. I shall put in no
rejoinder, or whatever may be the proper name for it. Mr. Webb may
have his order, and welcome, for any obstruction from me. In fact, as
I am taking my wife on a tour through the White Mountains, it would be
inconvenient for me to be detained watching a lawsuit. If I might
suggest, change of scene will be beneficial to your own health, as a
relief from the worries of share-jobbing. Meanwhile, let me wish you
good-bye. No saying how long it may be before we meet again. Stinson!
Let's get on with those papers. I think I may be able to get away to
the White Mountains to-morrow."
The very next morning Martha, escorted by Ralph, set out on a journey
of pleasure through the White Mountains; and a day or two later,
Amelia Jordan, tantalized out of patience by her husband's continued
procrastination as to their summer holiday, went off to Long Branch
alone, and it was not many days later that Jordan himself did not
appear at his office, though where he had gone nobody knew. Some said
he had followed his wife to the fashionable seaside resort, others,
that he had joined Herkimer in his travels. The latter view became the
popular one; it kept the two names conjoined, which seemed best, they
came up together so often now in the talk on 'Change; for the great
house in the Rue des Borgnes--Ralph Herkimer & Son--had come down, and
great was the fall of it, the Banque Sangsue Prêteuse was involved in
the ruin, so was the Mining Association of St. Euphrase, and so were
other important concerns. They had all tumbled together in one
confusion of ruin which set the ears of the public ringing, and filled
their eyes with so much dust that they could see nothing clearly; but
Jordan having been heard to anathematize "that fellow Webb," it was
universally held during the worst days of the excitement that he had
originated or precipitated the calamity for his own base ends. In
truth, Webb was one of the severest sufferers, his fellow-directors
having taken the hint to save themselves in time, and even to make
money out of it; while he, good man, found all his savings and all his
ready money evaporated in smoke or converted into scrip fit for
nothing but pipe-lights, with impending possibilities of litigation,
should any victimized shareholder be tempted to throw good money after
bad and relieve his indignation with a lawsuit. But then he had the
high moral satisfaction of having vindicated his superior probity in
his own eyes--the world's, I fear, were so busy with its own affairs
that they took no heed. He lay down at night with an easy conscience
and a light pocket, if sometimes a heavy heart, for it must be
confessed that his neighbours' non-appreciation of his virtuous
conduct was afflicting. But he was young still, and strong, and
sanguine, and his farm and stock were fairly good. He would make money
yet, he vowed, if only Providence would spare him in the land of the
living; and that--money-making, I mean--is, as all the world knows,
the whole duty of man.
Webb realized, however, that he must now have a woman in his
household, to help him to make it quickly; not a hireling, as
heretofore, in his days of bachelorhood and prosperity, to be courted
and considered at every turn, lest she should go off and leave him,
but a lawful wife; tied to his homestead by the institutions of God
and man, to churn his butter, fatten his poultry, and look after his
comfort; and do it, too, for life, without other wage than her keep,
and the dignity of being a married woman.
He had had dreams, like other young men, of a being with golden hair
and wonderful eyes, a human bird of paradise, for whom he was to build
a delightful bower, and live happy with her in it for ever after; but
the day for fantastic dreaming was gone by; birds of paradise are
expensive, and he had no money. He must content himself with less,
with a serviceable work-a-day barn-door fowl, content to roost
anywhere, and for whom a nest of wholesome straw would be as meet as a
gilded aviary for the other--and such a one rose before his mind's eye
in the person of Betsey Bunce. "A homely girl," as he told himself,
"but active and handy, able to bake and mend, and willing to do
it"--for _him_ at least, he flattered himself. She was "awful homely,"
he confessed as he mused; "and a fool about her clothes, but if he
looked after the spendings, as he 'allowed' to do, he would have her
dressed sensibly enough, he flattered himself, so soon as her wedding
finery wore out."
He did not feel as if he could ever come to be foolishly fond of her,
but he thought he had descried tokens that she was not indisposed to
attach herself to _him_. So there would be a certain _modicum_ of love
to furnish out their board, and if it was not he who provided it, at
least he would be its object, which was the next best thing, and as
much, perhaps, as a man could look for, after losing his money.
Wherefore he made up his mind, and the very next Sunday after church
he put his resolve in practice.