Prince Lotarno rose slowly to his feet, casting one malignant glance at
the prisoner before him.
"You have heard," he said, "what is alleged against you. Have you
anything to say in your defence?"
The captured brigand laughed.
"The time for talk is past," he cried. "This has been a fine farce of a
fair trial. You need not have wasted so much time over what you call
evidence. I knew my doom when I fell into your hands. I killed your
brother; you will kill me. You have proven that I am a murderer and a
robber; I could prove the same of you if you were bound hand and foot
in my camp as I am bound in your castle. It is useless for me to tell
you that I did not know he was your brother, else it would not have
happened, for the small robber always respects the larger and more
powerful thief. When a wolf is down, the other wolves devour him. I am
down, and you will have my head cut off, or my body drawn asunder in
your courtyard, whichever pleases your Excellency best. It is the
fortune of war, and I do not complain. When I say that I am sorry I
killed your brother, I merely mean I am sorry you were not the man who
stood in his shoes when the shot was fired. You, having more men than I
had, have scattered my followers and captured me. You may do with me
what you please. My consolation is that the killing me will not bring
to life the man who is shot, therefore conclude the farce that has
dragged through so many weary hours. Pronounce my sentence. I am
ready."
There was a moment's silence after the brigand had ceased speaking.
Then the Prince said, in low tones, but in a voice that made itself
heard in every part of the judgment-hall--
"Your sentence is that on the fifteenth of January you shall be taken
from your cell at four o'clock, conducted to the room of execution, and
there beheaded."
The Prince hesitated for a moment as he concluded the sentence, and
seemed about to add something more, but apparently he remembered that a
report of the trial was to go before the King, whose representative was
present, and he was particularly desirous that nothing should go on the
records which savoured of old-time malignity; for it was well known
that his Majesty had a particular aversion to the ancient forms of
torture that had obtained heretofore in his kingdom. Recollecting this,
the Prince sat down.
The brigand laughed again. His sentence was evidently not so gruesome
as he had expected. He was a man who had lived all his life in the
mountains, and he had had no means of knowing that more merciful
measures had been introduced into the policy of the Government.
"I will keep the appointment," he said jauntily, "unless I have a more
pressing engagement."
The brigand was led away to his cell. "I hope," said the Prince, "that
you noted the defiant attitude of the prisoner."
"I have not failed to do so, your Excellency," replied the ambassador.
"I think," said the Prince, "that under the circumstances, his
treatment has been most merciful."
"I am certain, your Excellency," said the ambassador, "that his Majesty
will be of the same opinion. For such a miscreant, beheading is too
easy a death."
The Prince was pleased to know that the opinion of the ambassador
coincided so entirely with his own.
The brigand Toza was taken to a cell in the northern tower, where, by
climbing on a bench, he could get a view of the profound valley at the
mouth of which the castle was situated. He well knew its impregnable
position, commanding as it did, the entrance to the valley. He knew
also that if he succeeded in escaping from the castle he was hemmed in
by mountains practically unscalable, while the mouth of the gorge was
so well guarded by the castle that it was impossible to get to the
outer world through that gateway. Although he knew the mountains well,
he realised that, with his band scattered, many killed, and the others
fugitives, he would have a better chance of starving to death in the
valley than of escaping out of it. He sat on the bench and thought over
the situation. Why had the Prince been so merciful? He had expected
torture, whereas he was to meet the easiest death that a man could die.
He felt satisfied there was something in this that he could not
understand. Perhaps they intended to starve him to death, now that the
appearance of a fair trial was over. Things could be done in the
dungeon of a castle that the outside world knew nothing of. His fears
of starvation were speedily put to an end by the appearance of his
gaoler with a better meal than he had had for some time; for during the
last week he had wandered a fugitive in the mountains until captured by
the Prince's men, who evidently had orders to bring him in alive. Why
then were they so anxious not to kill him in a fair fight if he were
now to be merely beheaded?
"What is your name?" asked Toza of his gaoler.
"I am called Paulo," was the answer.
"Do you know that I am to be beheaded on the fifteenth of the month?"
"I have heard so," answered the man.
"And do you attend me until that time?"
"I attend you while I am ordered to do so. If you talk much I may be
replaced."
"That, then, is a tip for silence, good Paulo," said the brigand. "I
always treat well those who serve me well; I regret, therefore, that I
have no money with me, and so cannot recompense you for good service."
"That is not necessary," answered Paulo. "I receive my recompense from
the steward."
"Ah, but the recompense of the steward and the recompense of a brigand
chief are two very different things. Are there so many pickings in your
position that you are rich, Paulo?"
"No; I am a poor man."
"Well, under certain circumstances, I could make you rich."
Paulo's eyes glistened, but he made no direct reply. Finally he said,
in a frightened whisper, "I have tarried too long, I am watched. By-
and-by the vigilance will be relaxed, and then we may perhaps talk of
riches."
With that the gaoler took his departure. The brigand laughed softly to
himself. "Evidently," he said, "Paulo is not above the reach of a
bribe. We will have further talk on the subject when the watchfulness
is relaxed."
And so it grew to be a question of which should trust the other. The
brigand asserted that hidden in the mountains he had gold and jewels,
and these he would give to Paulo if he could contrive his escape from
the castle.
"Once free of the castle, I can soon make my way out of the valley,"
said the brigand.
"I am not so sure of that," answered Paulo. "The castle is well
guarded, and when it is discovered that you have escaped, the alarm-
bell will be rung, and after that not a mouse can leave the valley
without the soldiers knowing it."
The brigand pondered on the situation for some time, and at last said,
"I know the mountains well."
"Yes;" said Paulo, "but you are one man, and the soldiers of the Prince
are many. Perhaps," he added, "if it were made worth my while, I could
show you that I know the mountains even better than you do."
"What do you mean?" asked the brigand, in an excited whisper.
"Do you know the tunnel?" inquired Paulo, with an anxious glance
towards the door.
"What tunnel? I never heard of any."
"But it exists, nevertheless; a tunnel through the mountains to the
world outside."
"A tunnel through the mountains? Nonsense!" cried the brigand. "I
should have known of it if one existed. The work would be too great to
accomplish."
"It was made long before your day, or mine either. If the castle had
fallen, then those who were inside could escape through the tunnel. Few
know of the entrance; it is near the waterfall up the valley, and is
covered with brushwood. What will you give me to place you at the
entrance of that tunnel?"
The brigand looked at Paulo sternly for a few moments, then he answered
slowly, "Everything I possess."
"And how much is that?" asked Paulo.
"It is more than you will ever earn by serving the Prince."
"Will you tell me where it is before I help you to escape from the
castle and lead you to the tunnel?"
"Yes," said Toza.
"Will you tell me now?"
"No; bring me a paper to-morrow, and I will draw a plan showing you how
to get it."
[Illustration: "I WILL DRAW A PLAN"]
When his gaoler appeared, the day after Toza had given the plan, the
brigand asked eagerly, "Did you find the treasure?"
"I did," said Paulo quietly.
"And will you keep your word?--will you get me out of the castle?"
"I will get you out of the castle and lead you to the entrance of the
tunnel, but after that you must look to yourself."
"Certainly," said Toza, "that was the bargain. Once out of this
accursed valley, I can defy all the princes in Christendom. Have you a
rope?"
"We shall need none," said the gaoler. "I will come for you at
midnight, and take you out of the castle by the secret passage; then
your escape will not be noticed until morning."
At midnight his gaoler came and led Toza through many a tortuous
passage, the two men pausing now and then, holding their breaths
anxiously as they came to an open court through which a guard paced. At
last they were outside of the castle at one hour past midnight.
The brigand drew a long breath of relief when he was once again out in
the free air.
"Where is your tunnel?" he asked, in a somewhat distrustful whisper of
his guide.
"Hush!" was the low answer. "It is only a short distance from the
castle, but every inch is guarded, and we cannot go direct; we must
make for the other side of the valley and come to it from the north."
"What!" cried Toza in amazement, "traverse the whole valley for a
tunnel a few yards away?"
"It is the only safe plan," said Paulo. "If you wish to go by the
direct way, I must leave you to your own devices."
"I am in your hands," said the brigand with a sigh. "Take me where you
will, so long as you lead me to the entrance of the tunnel."
They passed down and down around the heights on which the castle stood,
and crossed the purling little river by means of stepping-stones. Once
Toza fell into the water, but was rescued by his guide. There was still
no alarm from the castle as daylight began to break. As it grew more
light they both crawled into a cave which had a low opening difficult
to find, and there Paulo gave the brigand his breakfast, which he took
from a little bag slung by a strap across his shoulder.
"What are we going to do for food if we are to be days between here and
the tunnel?" asked Toza.
"Oh, I have arranged for that, and a quantity of food has been placed
where we are most likely to want it. I will get it while you sleep."
"But if you are captured, what am I to do?" asked Toza. "Can you not
tell me now how to find the tunnel, as I told you how to find the
treasure?"
Paulo pondered over this for a moment, and then said, "Yes; I think it
would be the safer way. You must follow the stream until you reach the
place where the torrent from the east joins it. Among the hills there
is a waterfall, and halfway up the precipice on a shelf of rock there
are sticks and bushes. Clear them away, and you will find the entrance
to the tunnel. Go through the tunnel until you come to a door, which is
bolted on this side. When you have passed through, you will see the end
of your journey."
Shortly after daybreak the big bell of the castle began to toll, and
before noon the soldiers were beating the bushes all around them. They
were so close that the two men could hear their voices from their
hiding-place, where they lay in their wet clothes, breathlessly
expecting every moment to be discovered.
The conversation of two soldiers, who were nearest them, nearly caused
the hearts of the hiding listeners to stop beating.
"Is there not a cave near here?" asked one. "Let us search for it!"
"Nonsense," said the other. "I tell you that they could not have come
this far already."
"Why could they not have escaped when the guard changed at midnight?"
insisted the first speaker.
"Because Paulo was seen crossing the courtyard at midnight, and they
could have had no other chance of getting away until just before
daybreak."
This answer seemed to satisfy his comrade, and the search was given up
just as they were about to come upon the fugitives. It was a narrow
escape, and, brave as the robber was, he looked pale, while Paulo was
in a state of collapse.
Many times during the nights and days that followed, the brigand and
his guide almost fell into the hands of the minions of the Prince.
Exposure, privation, semi-starvation, and, worse than all, the
alternate wrenchings of hope and fear, began to tell upon the stalwart
frame of the brigand. Some days and nights of cold winter rain added to
their misery. They dare not seek shelter, for every habitable place was
watched.
When daylight overtook them on their last night's crawl through the
valley, they were within a short distance of the waterfall, whose low
roar now came soothingly down to them.
"Never mind the daylight," said Toza; "let us push on and reach the
tunnel."
"I can go no farther," moaned Paulo; "I am exhausted."
"Nonsense," cried Toza; "it is but a short distance."
"The distance is greater than you think; besides, we are in full view
of the castle. Would you risk everything now that the game is nearly
won? You must not forget that the stake is your head; and remember what
day this is."
"What day is it?" asked the brigand, turning on his guide.
"It is the fifteenth of January, the day on which you were to be
executed."
Toza caught his breath sharply. Danger and want had made a coward of
him and he shuddered now, which he had not done when he was on his
trial and condemned to death.
"How do you know it is the fifteenth?" he asked at last.
Paulo held up his stick, notched after the method of Robinson Crusoe.
"I am not so strong as you are, and if you will let me rest here until
the afternoon, I am willing to make a last effort, and try to reach the
entrance of the tunnel."
"Very well," said Toza shortly.
As they lay there that forenoon neither could sleep. The noise of the
waterfall was music to the ears of both; their long toilsome journey
was almost over.
[Illustration: HE THREW ASIDE BUSHES, BRAMBLES AND LOGS]
"What did you do with the gold that you found in the mountains?" asked
Toza suddenly.
Paulo was taken unawares, and answered, without thinking, "I left it
where it was. I will get it after."
The brigand said nothing, but that remark condemned Paulo to death.
Toza resolved to murder him as soon as they were well out of the
tunnel, and get the gold himself.
They left their hiding-place shortly before twelve o'clock, but their
progress was so slow, crawling, as they had to do, up the steep side of
the mountain, under cover of bushes and trees, that it was well after
three when they came to the waterfall, which they crossed, as best they
could, on stones and logs.
"There," said Toza, shaking himself, "that is our last wetting. Now for
the tunnel!"
The rocky sides of the waterfall hid them from view of the castle, but
Paulo called the brigand's attention to the fact that they could be
easily seen from the other side of the valley.
"It doesn't matter now," said Toza; "lead the way as quickly as you can
to the mouth of the cavern."
Paulo scrambled on until he reached a shelf about halfway up the
cataract; he threw aside bushes, brambles, and logs, speedily
disclosing a hole large enough to admit a man.
"You go first," said Paulo, standing aside.
"No," answered Toza; "you know the way, and must go first. You cannot
think that I wish to harm you--I am completely unarmed.
"Nevertheless," said Paulo, "I shall not go first. I did not like the
way you looked at me when I told you the gold was still in the hills. I
admit that I distrust you."
"Oh, very well," laughed Toza, "it doesn't really matter." And he
crawled into the hole in the rock, Paulo following him.
Before long the tunnel enlarged so that a man could stand upright.
"Stop!" said Paulo; "there is the door near here."
"Yes," said the robber, "I remember that you spoke of a door," adding,
however, "What is it for, and why is it locked?"
"It is bolted on this side," answered Paulo, "and we shall have no
difficulty in opening it."
"What is it for?" repeated the brigand.
"It is to prevent the current of air running through the tunnel and
blowing away the obstruction at this end," said the guide.
"Here it is," said Toza, as he felt down its edge for the bolt.
The bolt drew back easily, and the door opened. The next instant the
brigand was pushed rudely into a room, and he heard the bolt thrust
back into its place almost simultaneously with the noise of the closing
door. For a moment his eyes were dazzled by the light. He was in an
apartment blazing with torches held by a dozen men standing about.
In the centre of the room was a block covered with black cloth, and
beside it stood a masked executioner resting the corner of a gleaming
axe on the black draped block, with his hands crossed over the end of
the axe's handle.
The Prince stood there surrounded by his ministers. Above his head was
a clock, with the minute hand pointed to the hour of four.
"You are just in time!" said the Prince grimly; "we are waiting for
you!"
"AND THE RIGOUR OF THE GAME."
Old Mr. Saunders went home with bowed head and angry brow. He had not
known that Dick was in the habit of coming in late, but he had now no
doubt of the fact. He himself went to bed early and slept soundly, as a
man with a good conscience is entitled to do. But the boy's mother must
have known the hours he kept, yet she had said nothing; this made the
matter all the blacker. The father felt that mother and son were
leagued against him. He had been too lenient; now he would go to the
root of things. The young man would speedily change his ways or take
the consequences. There would be no half measures.
Poor old Mrs. Saunders saw, the moment her husband came in, that there
was a storm brewing, and a wild fear arose in her heart that her boy
was the cause. The first words of the old man settled the question.
"What time did Richard come in last night?"
"I--I don't know," she hesitated. "Shuffling" her husband always called
it. She had been a buffer between father and son since Dick was a
child.
"Why don't you know? Who let him in?"
She sighed. The secret had long weighed upon her, and she felt it would
come out at some hapless moment.
"He has a key," she said at last.
The old man glared in speechless amazement. In his angriest mood he had
never suspected anything so bad as this.
"A key! How long has he had a key?"
"About six months. He did not want to disturb us."
"He is very thoughtful! Where does he spend his nights?"
"I don't know. He told me he belongs to a club, where he takes some
kind of exercise."
"Did he tell you he exercised with cards? Did he say it was a gambling
club?"
"I don't believe it is; I am sure Dick doesn't gamble. Dick is a good
boy, father."
"A precious lot you know about it, evidently. Do you think his
employer, banker Hammond, has any idea his clerk belongs to a gambling
club?"
"I am sure I don't know. Is there any thing wrong? Has any one been
speaking to you about Dick?"
"Yes; and not to his credit."
"Oh dear!" cried the mother in anguish. "Was it Mr. Hammond?"
"I have never spoken to Hammond in my life," said the old man,
relenting a little when he saw how troubled his wife was. "No, I
propose to stop this club business before it gets to the banker's ears
that one of his clerks is a nightly attendant there. You will see
Richard when he comes home this evening; tell him I wish to have a word
or two with him to-night. He is to wait for me here. I will be in
shortly after he has had his supper."
"You will not be harsh with him, father. Remember, he is a young man
now, so please advise and do not threaten. Angry words can do no good."
"I will do my duty," said the old man, uncompromisingly.
Gentle Mrs. Saunders sighed--for she well knew the phrase about duty.
It was a sure prelude to domestic trouble. When the old gentleman
undertook to do his duty, he nailed his flag to the mast.
"See that he waits for me to-night," was the parting shot as the old
man closed the door behind him.
Mrs. Saunders had had her share of trouble in this world, as every
woman must who lives with a cantankerous man. When she could save her
son a harsh word, or even a blow, she was content to take either
uncomplainingly. The old man's severity had put him out of touch with
his son. Dick sullenly resented his boyhood of continual fear. During
recent years, when fear had gradually diminished and finally
disappeared, he was somewhat troubled to find that the natural
affection, which a son should have for his father, had vanished with
it. He had, on several occasions, made half-hearted attempts at a
better understanding, but these attempts had unfortunately fallen on
inopportune moments, when the old man was not particularly gracious
toward the world in general, and latterly there had been silence
between the two. The young man avoided his father as much as possible;
he would not have remained at home, had it not been for his mother. Her
steady, unwavering affection for him, her belief in him, and the
remembrance of how she had stood up for him, especially when he was in
the wrong, had bound her to him with bonds soft as silk and strong as
steel. He often felt it would be a pleasure to go wrong, merely to
refute his father's ideas regarding the way a child should be brought
up. Yet Dick had a sort of admiration for the old man, whose many good
qualities were somewhat overshadowed by his brutal temper.
When Richard came home that evening he had his supper alone, as was
usual with him. Mrs. Saunders drew her chair near the table, and while
the meal went on she talked of many things, but avoided the subject
uppermost in her mind, which she postponed until the last moment.
Perhaps after all she would not need to ask him to stay; he might
remain of his own accord. She watched him narrowly as she talked, and
saw with alarm that there was anxiety in his face. Some care was
worrying him, and she yearned to have him confide his trouble to her.
And yet she talked and talked of other things. She noticed that he made
but a poor pretence of eating, and that he allowed her to talk while he
made few replies, and those absent-mindedly. At last he pushed back his
chair with a laugh that sounded forced.
"Well, mother," he said, "what is it? Is there a row on, or is it
merely looming in the horizon? Has the Lord of Creation----"
"Hush, Dick, you mustn't talk in that way. There is nothing much the
matter, I hope? I want to speak with you about your club."
Dick looked sharply at his mother for a moment, then he said: "Well,
what does father want to know about the club? Does he wish to join?"
"I didn't say your father----"
"No, you didn't say it; but, my dear mother, you are as transparent as
glass. I can see right through you and away beyond. Now, somebody has
been talking to father about the club, and he is on the war-path. Well,
what does he want to know?"
"He said it was a gambling club."
"Right for once."
"Oh, Dick, is it?"
"Certainly it is. Most clubs are gambling clubs and drinking clubs. I
don't suppose the True Blues gamble more than others, but I'll bet they
don't gamble any less."
"Oh, Dick, Dick, I'm sorry to hear that. And, Dick, my darling boy, do
you----"
"Do I gamble, mother? No, I don't. I know you'll believe me, though the
old man won't. But it's true, nevertheless. I can't afford it, for it
takes money to gamble, and I'm not as rich as old Hammond yet."
"Oh yes, Dick dear, and that reminds me. Another thing your father
feared was that Mr. Hammond might come to know you were a member of the
club. It might hurt your prospects in the bank," she added, not wishing
to frighten the boy with the threat of the dismissal she felt sure
would follow the revelation.
Dick threw back his head and roared. For the first time that evening
the lines of care left his brow. Then seeing his mother's look of
incomprehension, he sobered down, repressing his mirth with some
difficulty.
"Mother," he said at last, "things have changed since father was a boy;
I'm afraid he hardly appreciates how much. The old terrifying relations
between employer and employee do not exist now--at least, that is my
experience."
"Still if Mr. Hammond came to know that you spent your evenings at----"
"Mother, listen to me a moment. Mr. Julius Hammond proposed me for
membership in the club--my employer! I should never have thought of
joining if it hadn't been for him. You remember my last raise in
salary? You thought it was for merit, of course, and father thought it
was luck. Well, it was neither--or both, perhaps. Now, this is
confidential and to yourself only. I wouldn't tell it to any one else.
Hammond called me into his private office one afternoon when the bank
was closed, and said, 'Saunders, I want you to join the Athletic Club;
I'll propose you.' I was amazed and told him I couldn't afford it.
'Yes, you can,' he answered. 'I'm going to raise your salary double the
amount of entrance fee and annual. If you don't join I'll cut it down.'
So I joined. I think I should have been a fool if I hadn't."
"Dick, I never heard of such a thing! What in the world did he want you
to join for?"
"Well, mother," said Dick, looking at his watch, "that's a long story.
I'll tell it to you some other evening. I haven't time to-night. I must
be off."
"Oh, Dick, don't go to-night. Please stay at home, for my sake."
Dick smoothed his mother's grey hair and kissed her on the forehead.
Then he said: "Won't to-morrow night do as well, mother? I can't stay
to-night. I have an appointment at the club."
"Telegraph to them and put it off. Stay for my sake to-night, Dick. I
never asked you before."
The look of anxiety came into his face again.
"Mother, it is impossible, really it is. Please don't ask me again.
Anyhow, I know it is father who wants me to stay, not you. I presume
he's on the duty tack. I think what he has to say will keep till to-
morrow night. If he must work off some of his sentiments on gambling,
let him place his efforts where they are needed--let him tackle Jule
Hammond, but not during business hours."
"You surely don't mean to say that a respected business man--a banker
like Mr. Hammond--gambles?"
"Don't I? Why, Hammond's a plunger from Plungerville, if you know what
that means. From nine to three he is the strictest and best business
man in the city. If you spoke to him then of the True Blue Athletic
Club he wouldn't know what you were talking about. But after three
o'clock he'll take any odds you like to offer, from matching pennies to
backing an unknown horse."
Mrs. Saunders sighed. It was a wicked world into which her boy had to
go to earn his living, evidently.
"And now, mother, I really must be off. I'll stay at home to-morrow
night and take my scolding like a man. Good-night."
He kissed her and hurried away before she could say anything more,
leaving her sitting there with folded hands to await, with her
customary patience and just a trifle of apprehension, the coming of her
husband. There was no mistaking the heavy footfall. Mrs. Saunders
smiled sadly as she heard it, remembering that Dick had said once that,
even if he were safe within the gates of Paradise, the sound of his
father's footsteps would make the chills run up his backbone. She had
reproved the levity of the remark at the time, but she often thought of
it, especially when she knew there was trouble ahead--as there usually
was.
"Where's Richard? Isn't he home yet?" were the old man's first words.
"He has been home, but he had to go out again. He had an appointment."
"Did you tell him I wanted to speak with him?"
"Yes, and he said he would stay home to-morrow night."
"Did he know what I said to-night?"
"I'm not sure that I told him you----"
"Don't shuffle now. He either knew or he did not. Which is it?"
"Yes, he knew, but he thought it might not be urgent, and he----"
"That will do. Where is his appointment?"
"At the club, I think."
"Ah-h-h!" The old man dwelt on the exclamation as if he had at last
drawn out the reluctant worst. "Did he say when he would be home?"
"No."
"Very well. I will wait half-an-hour for him, and if he is not in by
that time I will go to his club and have my talk with him there."
Old Mr. Saunders sat grimly down with his hat still on, and crossed his
hands over the knob of his stout walking-stick, watching the clock that
ticked slowly against the wall. Under these distressing circumstances
the old woman lost her presence of mind and did the very thing she
should not have done. She should have agreed with him, but instead of
that she opposed the plan and so made it inevitable. It would be a
cruel thing, she said, to shame their son before his friends, to make
him a laughing-stock among his acquaintances. Whatever was to be said
could be said as well to-morrow night as to-night, and that in their
own home, where, at least, no stranger would overhear. As the old man
made no answer but silently watched the clock, she became almost
indignant with him. She felt she was culpable in entertaining even the
suspicion of such a feeling against her lawful husband, but it did seem
to her that he was not acting judiciously towards Dick. She hoped to
turn his resentment from their son to herself, and would have welcomed
any outburst directed against her alone. In this excited state, being
brought, as it were, to bay, she had the temerity to say--
"You are wrong about one thing, and you may also be wrong in thinking
Dick--in--in what you think about Dick."
The old man darted one lowering look at her, and though she trembled,
she welcomed the glance as indicating the success of her red herring.
"What was I wrong about?"
"You were wrong--Mr. Hammond knows Dick is a member of the club. He is
a member himself and he insisted Dick should join. That's why he raised
his salary."
"A likely story! Who told you that?"
"Dick told me himself."
"And you believed it, of course!" Saunders laughed in a sneering, cynical
sort of way and resumed his scrutiny of the clock. The old woman gave up
the fight and began to weep silently, hoping, but in vain, to hear the
light step of her son approaching the door. The clock struck the hour;
the old man rose without a word, drew his hat further over his brow,
and left the house.
Up to the last moment Mrs. Saunders hardly believed her husband would
carry out his threat. Now, when she realised he was determined, she had
one wild thought of flying to the club and warning her son. A moment's
consideration put that idea out of the question. She called the
serving-maid, who came, as it seemed to the anxious woman, with
exasperating deliberation.
"Jane," she cried, "do you know where the Athletic Club is? Do you know
where Centre Street is?"
Jane knew neither club nor locality.
"I want a message taken there to Dick, and it must go quickly. Don't
you think you could run there----"
"It would be quicker to telegraph, ma'am," said Jane, who was not
anxious to run anywhere. "There's telegraph paper in Mr. Richard's
room, and the office is just round the corner."
"That's it, Jane; I'm glad you thought of it. Get me a telegraph form.
Do make haste."
She wrote with a trembling hand, as plainly as she could, so that her
son might have no difficulty in reading:--
"_Richard Saunders, Athletic Club, Centre Street_.
"Your father is coming to see you. He will be at the club before
half-an-hour."
"There is no need to sign it; he will know his mother's writing," said
Mrs. Saunders, as she handed the message and the money to Jane; and
Jane made no comment, for she knew as little of telegraphing as did her
mistress. Then the old woman, having done her best, prayed that the
telegram might arrive before her husband; and her prayer was answered,
for electricity is more speedy than an old man's legs.
Meanwhile Mr. Saunders strode along from the suburb to the city. His
stout stick struck the stone pavement with a sharp click that sounded
in the still, frosty, night air almost like a pistol shot. He would
show both his wife and his son that he was not too old to be master in
his own house. He talked angrily to himself as he went along, and was
wroth to find his anger lessening as he neared his destination. Anger
must be very just to hold its own during a brisk walk in evening air
that is cool and sweet.
Mr. Saunders was somewhat abashed to find the club building a much more
imposing edifice than he had expected. There was no low, groggy
appearance about the True Blue Athletic Club. It was brilliantly lit
from basement to attic. A group of men, with hands in pockets, stood on
the kerb as if waiting for something. There was an air of occasion
about the place. The old man inquired of one of the loafers if that was
the Athletic Club.
"Yes, it is," was the answer; "are you going in?"
"I intend to."
"Are you a member?"
"No."
"Got an invitation?"
"No."
"Then I suspect you won't go in. We've tried every dodge ourselves."
The possibility of not getting in had never occurred to the old
gentleman, and the thought that his son, safe within the sacred
precincts of a club, might defy him, flogged his flagging anger and
aroused his dogged determination.
"I'll try, at least," he said, going up the stone steps.
The men watched him with a smile on their lips. They saw him push the
electric button, whereupon the door opened slightly. There was a brief,
unheard parley; then the door swung wide open, and, when Mr. Saunders
entered, it shut again.
"Well, I'm blest!" said the man on the kerb; "I wonder how the old
duffer worked it. I wish I had asked him." None of the rest made any
comment; they were struck dumb with amazement at the success of the old
gentleman, who had even to ask if that were the club.
When the porter opened the door he repeated one of the questions asked
a moment before by the man on the kerb.
"Have you an invitation, sir?"
"No," answered the old man, deftly placing his stick so that the barely
opened door could not be closed until it was withdrawn. "No! I want to
see my son, Richard Saunders. Is he inside?"
The porter instantly threw open the door.
"Yes, sir," he said. "They're expecting you, sir. Kindly come this way,
sir."
The old man followed, wondering at the cordiality of his reception.
There must be some mistake. Expecting him? How could that be! He was
led into a most sumptuous parlour where a cluster of electric lamps in
the ceiling threw a soft radiance around the room.
"Be seated, sir. I will tell Mr. Hammond that you are here."
"But--stop a moment. I don't want to see Mr. Hammond. I have nothing to
do with Mr. Hammond. I want to see my son. Is it Mr. Hammond the
banker?"
"Yes, sir. He told me to bring you in here when you came and to let him
know at once."
The old man drew his hand across his brow, and ere he could reply the
porter had disappeared. He sat down in one of the exceedingly easy
leather chairs and gazed in bewilderment around the room. The fine
pictures on the wall related exclusively to sporting subjects. A trim
yacht, with its tall, slim masts and towering cloud of canvas at an
apparently dangerous angle, seemed sailing directly at the spectator.
Pugilists, naked to the waists, held their clinched fists in menacing
attitudes. Race-horses, in states of activity and at rest, were
interspersed here and there. In the centre of the room stood a pedestal
of black marble, and upon it rested a huge silver vase encrusted with
ornamentation. The old man did not know that this elaborate specimen of
the silversmith's art was referred to as the "Cup." Some one had hung a
placard on it, bearing, in crudely scrawled letters the words:--
"Fare thee well, and if for ever
Still for ever Fare thee well."
While the old man was wondering what all this meant, the curtain
suddenly parted and there entered an elderly gentleman somewhat
jauntily attired in evening dress with a rose at his buttonhole.
Saunders instantly recognised him as the banker, and he felt a
resentment at what he considered his foppish appearance, realising
almost at the same moment the rustiness of his own clothes, an everyday
suit, not too expensive even when new.
"How are you, Mr. Saunders?" cried the banker, cordially extending his
hand. "I am very pleased indeed to meet you. We got your telegram, but
thought it best not to give it to Dick. I took the liberty of opening
it myself. You see we can't be too careful about these little details.
I told the porter to look after you and let me know the moment you
came. Of course you are very anxious about your boy."
"I am," said the old man firmly. "That's why I'm here."
"Certainly, certainly. So are we all, and I presume I'm the most
anxious man of the lot. Now what you want to know is how he is getting
along?"
"Yes; I want to know the truth."
"Well, unfortunately, the truth is about as gloomy as it can be. He's
been going from bad to worse, and no man is more sorry than I am."
"Do you mean to tell me so?"
"Yes. There is no use deluding ourselves. Frankly, I have no hope for
him. There is not one chance in ten thousand of his recovering his lost
ground."
The old man caught his breath, and leaned on his cane for support. He
realised now the hollowness of his previous anger. He had never for a
moment believed the boy was going to the bad. Down underneath his
crustiness was a deep love for his son and a strong faith in him. He
had allowed his old habit of domineering to get the better of him, and
now in searching after a phantom he had suddenly come upon a ghastly
reality.
"Look here," said the banker, noticing his agitation, "have a drink of
our Special Scotch with me. It is the best there is to be had for
money. We always take off our hats when we speak of the Special in this
club. Then we'll go and see how things are moving."
As he turned to order the liquor he noticed for the first time the
placard on the cup.
"Now, who the dickens put that there?" he cried angrily. "There's no
use in giving up before you're thrashed." Saying which, he took off the
placard, tore it up, and threw it into the waste basket.
"Does Richard drink?" asked the old man huskily, remembering the eulogy
on the Special.
"Bless you, no. Nor smoke either. No, nor gamble, which is more
extraordinary. No, it's all right for old fellows like you and me to
indulge in the Special--bless it--but a young man who needs to keep his
nerves in order, has to live like a monk. I imagine it's a love affair.
Of course, there's no use asking you: you would be the last one to
know. When he came in to-night I saw he was worried over something. I
asked him what it was, but he declared there was nothing wrong. Here's
the liquor. You'll find that it reaches the spot."